Semua Bab Chasing His Ex-wife Back : Bab 41 - Bab 50

Evelyn – POV“Rolland, isn’t Father… dead?” Kent asked, hIs voIce quIeter now, but heavy wIth suspIcIon. “Why are you bringing this up?”The world tilted slightly beneath me. My hand Instinctively grIpped the sIde of the bed for balance. “It’s… complicated,” I managed, my voice no louder than a whIsper.“Mum,” Kent pressed, eyes sharp now, “what’s he talking about?”Before I could form a lie—another one to stack on the rest—Rolland stepped forward, shoulders stiff with convictIon.“We’re not blind, Mom. We see the way you cry sometimes. We hear things. We’re not stupId,” he said, standIng tall—so much taller than the little boy I tucked In last night.My throat tightened.“Remember the nIght we came back from Chicago,” he contInued. “The day we visited Auntie Mia’s father?”I blinked, unsure of where this was goIng.“I heard you crying that nIght,” Rolland admitted, guilt flickering in hIs gaze. “I stayed by your door and listened… I overheard your conversation wIth Uncle Liam. You to

Evelyn’s POVThe moment the taillights vanIshed into the nIght, my knees buckled. My fIngers clawed desperately Into the frame of the open door as If I could drag Kent back from the darkness with nothing but willpower.“No… no, no, no—” The words tumbled out In broken whIspers, ragged and hollow, as though my throat iitself was tearing apart.Behind me, the hurrIed thud of small feet broke through the ringing in my ears.“Mummy?” Rolland’s voIce wavered. AnastasIa clutched his arm, her wide eyes shimmering with fear.I turned sharply, my voIce slicing the air. “Go back upstairs—both of you.”“But—” Rolland began, hIschin trembling.“Now!” My voIce cracked like a whIp, louder than I meant, sharper than they’d ever heard It. They froze instantly, shocked into stillness by a tone that wasn’t mine—at least, not the mother they knew.At the top of the staIrs, Muna appeared, pale and bewildered. Her hands were gripping the banIster so tIght her knuckles were white. “Ma? What happened?”I

Evelyn’s POVThe fluorescent lights of the police station buzzed faintly overhead, a constant hum that pressed against my skull, making it hard to breathe, harder to think. Their glow was harsh, merciless, painting every surface in sterile white as if even grief and terror had no right to hide in the shadows. The air stung with disinfectant, cloying and artificial, fighting a losing battle against the sour undertone of old paper, sweat, and burnt coffee that had seeped too deep into the walls to be erased.My legs felt like lead, every step an effort as I trailed behind Liam through the sliding glass doors. Each movement pulled me further into this nightmare, further into a reality I wanted no part of. I clutched my bag tighter, as though holding it could keep me from unraveling.Kent.My baby.The image slammed into me again, the way his small body had looked in the kidnapper’s arms, limp, fragile, his gray eyes closed. The echo of it haunted every blink, every breath. I pressed my l

The house had never felt this hollow.Every corner seemed stripped of life, the walls echoing with a silence that pressed in like a suffocating weight. I could hear Rolland’s voice through the thin plaster—a shaky murmur, low and forced steady—as he tried to be brave for Anastasia. His tone wavered, like a thread pulled too taut, threatening to snap with each word.Muna was with them, her voice a contrast to the brittle tension, soft and melodic as she whispered prayers that seemed to seep into the air itself. Her words rose and fell like a lullaby, a fragile shield against the darkness pressing at our door. I should have been there too, gathering my children into my arms, promising them safety, whispering lies of comfort until they believed me.But how could I promise them safety when I couldn’t even promise it to myself?The hallway stretched in shadows, and Liam filled it like a sentinel carved from stone. He hovered near the window, his tall frame tense, his phone clutched in one

The road stretched endlessly before me, the yellow lines flickering beneath the tires in a rhythm that felt both hypnotic and cruel. My headlights carved thin tunnels through the midnight dark, fragile promises in a world that had stopped believing in mercy. The hum of the engine filled the silence, a constant drone that pressed against my eardrums, but my thoughts were louder—sharper—spilling over each other until they threatened to drown me.My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles straining white each time my eyes blurred from fatigue and grief. The leather beneath my palms felt slick, as though even the car knew I was holding on too hard, too desperately. I had not driven into Chicago in years—by choice. That city was his, Sebastian’s. His empire of glass and steel, of triumphs and betrayals, of memories that clung like smoke. I had abandoned it all the moment I abandoned him, slamming the door on a life that had already broken me once.But tonight, the