Ex-husband’s Regret: Revenge So Sweet のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

Alexander’s POVI pull into the valet parking lot of La Belle Étoile, the restaurant Cynthia’s been raving about for a while now, mentioning how she’s seen a lot about it and always wanted to try it. She’s brought it up so many times, I’ve lost count—going on about their “exquisite dining experience” and their perfectly curated menu and luxurious ambianceTrue to her word, the place reeks of prestige. The entrance alone gleams with crystal chandeliers visible through the glass doors, and the soft hum of classical music spills out as we step inside.Cynthia’s arm wraps around mine as we walk in, her fingers curling tightly against my jacket sleeve. I resist the urge to pull away, reminding myself to maintain composure. We’re in public, and I won’t give her the satisfaction of a scene. Still, the possessiveness in her grip irritates me. She tilts her head toward me, whispering something about how I’m going to love the food here. I nod absentmindedly, offering her a tight smile as the

Isabel’s POVThe tension thickens, but I try to stay still. Why should I leave? I’m done running now.I glance at Roy and whisper, a teasing smile tugging at my lips, “And the food, Roy. How can I leave that?” I add a playful gesture, and he chuckles, his tension easing slightly.Placing a hand over mine, he says, “As long as you’re fine, let’s enjoy our meal. You know I’m here for you, always.”I give him a cheeky smile, but my mind betrays me, drifting back to the pair across the room. Just then, the waiter arrives with our meals, the aroma sending a thrill through my senses. I dive in without hesitation, savoring every bite. It’d be foolish to let them ruin this for me, I think, relishing the rich flavors.When I finish, I stand up, ready to make my exit, but before I can take a step, I catch the flicker of worry in Roy’s eyes. It’s quick, fleeting, but it’s there—a silent question hanging between us. His concern isn’t something he tries to hide, even if it’s just a moment of hesita

Alexander’s POVI lean back in my chair, my leg bouncing restlessly as I stare at the closed door. My fingers twist the edge of my jacket, the tension in my chest refusing to settle. I’ve been trying to keep my mind off it—off them—but it’s useless. Cynthia and Claire in the same room never ends well. Oil and water don’t mix, and I know the history between them well enough to expect a spark turning into a blaze.For a moment, I almost push myself up to check, but I stop, pressing my hand to the armrest instead. They’re adults. They can handle themselves. So why the hell does it feel like something’s about to go wrong? I shake my head, forcing myself to sit still, but the unease claws at me, pulling tighter.The door creaks open. My head jerks up, and there she is—Cynthia. A smug smile spreads across her face, so out of place that I blink. My mind stumbles over it. Didn’t she walk in earlier with a look so downcast she could’ve passed for a grieving widow? Now she’s smiling?I sit up st

Alexander’s POVI pull the cuffs of my shirt down before slipping on my cufflinks, the metallic click grounding me. Today’s meeting hangs heavily in my mind as I brush my hair into place, the gel smoothing down the dark strands until they fall in the sharp, confident style I prefer. Looking at my reflection, I tug the edge of my jacket, ensuring every line of the suit is immaculate. “I’m ready,” I murmur, letting the words steel my resolve.Sitting down, I slide my feet into polished leather shoes, fastening them securely. My movements are deliberate as I pick up my briefcase and head down the grand staircase. Halfway down, a rich, savory aroma drifts up to meet me. My steps falter. For a moment, I think I’m imagining it. Meals aren’t uncommon here, but this… it feels different, strange even.And then I see her. Sabrina. My mother.Standing near the dining table, she’s supervising the preparation of breakfast. It’s jarring—a scene I can’t recall witnessing since childhood. My mother a

Isabel’s POVThe cool morning breeze brushes past as my Louboutin heels click against the marble pavement outside LM Group’s headquarters. Clad in a white blazer and tailored navy pants, I adjust my cuff bracelet before striding purposefully through the glass doors.Inside my office, sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a glow on the stack of folders on my desk. I pick one up and freeze. Alexander. The name stings like an old wound. I shake my head, setting it back down. “Focus,” I mutter, willing his voice and the memories to fade.I sit up abruptly, spinning my chair around to face the expansive view of the city. Skyscrapers rise majestically against the pale blue sky, and the streets below pulse with life. For a moment, I lose myself in the rhythm of the world outside, but even the bustling city can’t drown out my inner turmoil.A soft knock pulls me back. “Come in,” I call, straightening in my chair. Christine steps inside, iPad in hand, her expression pr