Lahat ng Kabanata ng Till Betrayal Do Us Part: Ex-Husband, Ex-Heartbreak: Kabanata 111 - Kabanata 120

Alejandro POVI didn’t moved from her side. Not once.She was laid in bed and wrapped in thick blankets, her skin still too cold, her breathing too shallow. The doctor had already come and gone, reassuring me that she was stable, that the hypothermia wasn’t severe enough to cause permanent damage. “She just needs warmth and more rest,” he’d said. As if that was supposed to make me feel better.Her lips were still pale. Her fingers barely curled around mine when I held them. She looked fragile.I sat beside her on the bed, gripping her hand, my thumb running over her knuckles absently. She hadn’t moved in hours. This was my fault. I should’ve gone after her sooner. I should’ve never let her out of my sight.I pushed back the image of finding her in the snow, barely breathing. My chest burned with frustration—at her, at myself, at everything.There was a soft knock on the door. I didn’t bother looking up.“Sir?” A hesitant voice. It was Mia. The damn maid—I’d almost forgotten she was

Alejandro’s POVThe moment I stepped into Vanveau’s sleek glass lobby, I was already seeing red.The place reeked of pretentious wealth—floor-to-ceiling windows and marble floors polished to perfection.I didn’t stop to acknowledge the security guard who straightened at the sight of me or the receptionist who opened her mouth to say something.I knew exactly where I was going.Elliot Harrington’s office.That smug son of a bitch had crossed a line.He had touched what was mine.And I was about to remind him exactly who the fuck he was dealing with.I headed straight towards the elevators, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.“Sir, you can’t—”The receptionist stepped in my way, a pretty blonde with wide blue eyes and a rehearsed corporate smile. She clearly had no idea who I was.I kept walking.“Mr. Harrington is in a meeting,” she tried again, holding out a manicured hand.I didn’t even break stride. “He wouldn’t be anymore.”“Sir, please—”She tried to step in front of m

Third-Person POV She had spent the last few days working with a tech expert—a discreet, well-paid hacker—to create an entire text thread that looked exactly like Alejandro’s messages.The messages painted a perfect story.Late-night apologies. Him begging her not to tell Estella.The final cherry on top?A message from “Alejandro” sent just last night:“She doesn’t have to know.”“Just one last time.”“You know I can’t stay away.”Camila nearly sighed at her own brilliance.Henry exhaled on the other end of the line. “You sure this is solid? If we post this and it turns out fake—”“It’s real enough,” she cut in. “Besides, we both know the public doesn’t care about facts. They care about scandals.”He grunted. “True. What else do you have?”Camila’s smirk deepened. “A hotel footage.”The Wexford had been the perfect place to execute her plan. Not only was it private and exclusive, but its security system? Laughable.A few tears, a little gaslighting about an “obsessed ex,” and the poo

Third Person POV The sound of laughter followed her everywhere she went. Camila clutched her purse, her heels clicking against the pavement as she practically ran down the street. Phones pointed at her. Her breath was ragged, her entire body trembling. “Camila Ramirez, exposed as a fraud!” “Damn, she really tried to fake a pregnancy?” “She looks like she’s about to cry—wait, is she crying?” This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. She shoved past people, ignoring their smirks, their stares. Her car wasn’t here. Her driver was gone. “Fuck,” she hissed under her breath. A paparazzi jumped in front of her, camera flashing. “Camila! Camila! Any comments on being exposed?” Her vision blurred with rage. “Get the fuck out of my face!” she snapped, shoving the camera away. A crowd had gathered. People were recording. She turned, frantic, feeling like a trapped animal. The whole world was laughing at her. Her face burned as she sprinted to the nearest cab, y

Estella POVThe soft glow of the bedroom lamp cast warm shadows on the walls as I lay against Alejandro’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His fingers lazily traced slow circles on my bare back, his other hand tangled in my hair.For the first time in weeks, there was no tension, no outside noise, no lingering ghosts from the past clawing at our peace. Just us.I felt his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek, steady and strong, like the man himself.It should have been easy to relax. To let go. To finally breathe.The past few weeks had been a whirlwind. The scandal, Camila’s downfall, the endless media storm—yet through it all, we had fought for each other. And we were still standing.Alejandro had changed. Not in the way that made me question if he was still the man I fell for, but in the way that told me he had learned. He let me in now. Into his world, his business, his thoughts. He no longer shut me out when things got messy.And I… I was learning too. To t