บททั้งหมดของ Ex-husband’s Regret: Revenge So Sweet : บทที่ 241 - บทที่ 250

Collins’ POVI grip the steering wheel tighter than I realize, my knuckles white, the tension running up my arms. Through the window, I watch the tall building in front of me, its sleek glass reflecting the cloudy sky. A breath escapes me—long, heavy. What am I doing here?The question loops in my mind as my gaze sweeps over the structure again. Why do I find myself rushing to her place the moment I hear about Cynthia’s arrest? I should be at the hospital with Alexander. He needs me. But no, here I am… parked outside Aria’s apartment complex, heart pounding like I’ve been in a sprint. Why?Maybe it’s because I wanted to be the first to tell her. Or maybe it’s because I already knew what this news could mean for her. I didn’t want her hearing it from someone careless. Or worse—someone cruel. I wanted to see her face, gauge her reaction, maybe shield her from it.But what if… I lean back into the leather seat, closing my eyes briefly, tension sitting heavy in my chest. She’s not picking

Alexander’s POVI sit slumped in the stiff hospital chair, the cold metal biting through the fabric of my shirt, but I barely feel it. My elbows rest on my knees, shoulders hunched, as I stare blankly at the floor tiles, the doctor’s words echoing in my head like a never-ending loop.“The surgery was successful, but her condition remains critical. We’ve stabilized her for now, but she’s in a fragile state. We’ll keep her under intensive care and monitor her vitals closely. The next 24 hours are crucial. Let’s hope for the best.”Hope. That damn word. So light on the tongue, yet so heavy on the heart.In my hands, I grip the small stuffed bunny Sophia always carried—the one she had clutched tightly when she slipped and fell down those stairs. The fur is matted in some places, worn from all the times we played with it. I remember the day I bought it for her, the way her eyes had lit up, her smile full of wonder and joy. We spent that whole afternoon pretending it could talk, taking turn

Cynthia’s POVThe sharp click of heels on tile draws my gaze toward the door. My breath catches.She steps in.Her posture is stiff, regal—shoulders square, chin raised. Her face is tight, unreadable. Not a single tremor, not even in her hands. She walks like she belongs here, like nothing is broken inside her. Like she hasn’t been locked up for years in that cold, sterile mental asylum.I don’t get it.How… how is she appearing normal?She shouldn’t be. That’s not how I remember her.A million questions flood my mind, but one word stumbles out of me before I can stop it—raw, unfiltered.“Mom?”She flicks her fingers in the air.The men beside her bow slightly and step out, wordless, obedient. The door closes behind them with a click, leaving only us.My feet feel like lead, dragging across the floor until I stand before her. “Mom… is this really you?”She scoffs, almost amused. “Ah, no, I mean… how?” My voice cracks. “How are you able to— You were at the hospital.”She chuckles softl

Cynthia’s POVI stand there, frozen, as silence hangs thick between us.There’s something about the way she looks at me—still, too still. Her eyes don’t match her mouth, and her hesitation coils around the room like smoke I can’t quite see but can feel.The desperation in me is burning, rising fast. I don’t want to question anything. Not now. I just want my daughter.But she speaks before I can take another step.She shakes her head. “You know that’s not possible.”My chest tightens. “Isn’t that why you helped me? Why you saved me from the police? So I could be with my daughter?”“Yes,” she says, almost reluctantly. “But not now. You can’t just walk out. It’s too dangerous. If you leave, you’ll be caught.”“I don’t care about my safety!” I yell. “I just want to know how my child is doing!”She steps forward, eyes pleading. “You have to listen to me. You’ll be safe as long as you do what I say.”I shake my head desperately. “Then let me talk to Dad. He’ll help me. I know he will. He’ll

Alexander’s POVHer voice comes like smoke—soft but searing.“Alexander, why do you keep doing this to yourself?”It’s not the first time I’ve heard those words. But nothing about them hits quite like today. Her tone isn’t angry—it’s tired. Disappointed. Like she’s watching her son slowly unravel in broad daylight and doesn’t know how to stitch him back together. Her voice drapes over the living room like a shadow, making everything feel heavier than it already is.I look at her from where I sit on the couch, barely present in the moment. My gaze meets hers, but I don’t speak. I can’t. My body’s here, but my soul… God knows where it is.I bring the glass to my lips and swallow down the bitter taste of wine—my second bottle of the day. It burns down my throat, and still, it’s not enough. I scoff, the sound hard and empty, echoing off the silence of this damn house.It’s been weeks. Weeks of waking up alone. Of this suffocating loneliness that wraps around me like a second skin. The pai