All Chapters of Chasing His Ex-wife Back : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

111 Chapters

Chapter 49: the call that change everything

The house was too quiet.Too hollow. Too heavy. Too wrong.I sat in the living room with the curtains drawn tight, staring at the faint outline of my own reflection in the glass. My own eyes looked back at me—empty, rimmed red, haunted. My hands twisted together in my lap, restless, fingers tightening and loosening until my nails bit deep into my skin. Tiny half-moon indents dotted my palms, a physical reminder of how tightly I was holding myself together. Every tick of the clock above the mantel landed like a hammer against my ribs, louder and heavier with each passing second.Kent’s laughter should have been echoing through these walls. His messy toys should have been scattered across the rug, the trail of his little adventures leading into every corner. Instead, the room was pristine, lifeless. Too still. The silence pressed down on me like a tomb, suffocating, swallowing me whole.Liam had tried to make me eat dinner. I couldn’t. The food had turned to ash on my tongue. He’d tried

Chapter 50:the pact

I insisted on meeting Mr. Abbas somewhere neutral. My house felt too exposed, too fragile — like one more secret waiting to be cracked open. His home, on the other hand, was drenched in shadows I had no intention of walking through again. So we settled on a quiet hotel lounge on the outskirts of Chicago’s business district — discreet enough for powerful men to trade lies behind smiles, and far enough from downtown that familiar eyes wouldn’t linger.The drive there was suffocatingly silent. Liam sat in the passenger seat beside me, his jaw locked tight, knuckles bone-white around his phone. Every few minutes, he’d glance my way — not saying anything, but the question hung heavy in the air between us: Are you sure about this?I didn’t answer. I just tightened my grip on the steering wheel, feeling it tremble faintly beneath my palms. It had been years since I’d driven myself anywhere — years since I’d trusted my own hands to take me where I needed to go. But today, I needed the control

Chapter51: fault lines

The drive home was suffocatingly silent.Chicago’s night pressed against the tinted windows, the city lights flickering like broken stars across the glass. I barely saw any of it. My reflection stared back at me — pale, hollow, unrecognizable — while my hands gripped the leather seat so tightly that my knuckles turned bone white.Beside me, Liam sat rigid in the driver’s seat. His jaw was locked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as if sheer focus could keep the car from detonating with all the words he wasn’t saying. The hum of the engine filled the space between us — low, steady, mocking.Outside, the city blurred into streaks of steel and glass, neon bleeding across wet pavement. But all I could see — all my mind could conjure — was Kent. His small body limp in the arms of a masked man. The lifeless tilt of his head. The flash of a van door slamming shut.A sound escaped me before I could stop it — half breath, half sob. Liam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, but he didn’t loo

Chapter 51 Ashes of trust

The night stretched endless, a heavy, unbroken stretch of darkness that refused to let me breathe.Sleep had been a cruel stranger. I’d drifted in and out of shallow, jagged dozes, each one ending in a start, my heart pounding at sounds that weren’t there—Kent’s laugh, Kent’s cry, Kent calling for me from somewhere I couldn’t reach. By the time the first faint threads of dawn leaked through the curtains, I felt brittle, scraped hollow. My body was a knot of tension; my throat burned as though I’d been swallowing stones all night.The staircase creaked beneath my weight as I descended, each step heavier than the last, dragging me down as if the house itself was trying to keep me from moving.The smell of coffee reached me before anything else—rich, dark, bitter. Normally it was a comfort, a small anchor in the chaos of my mornings. Today it only made my stomach twist.Liam was already there.He stood at the counter with his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, his tie loosened, moving wi

Chapter 53 A mother’s breath

The text came without warning — a cold, small thing that landed like a stone in the dark. There was no buzzing serenade, no clumsy ring to warn me; just a vibration that rattled the nightstand like a pulse from the devil himself. My hand moved before my brain caught up, fumbling for the phone, nails scraping the wood as the screen flared and carved a thin, cruel light across the room.The message was surgical in its brevity.“Midnight. South edge of the city. Come alone. Bring no one else or the boy dies.”Too simple. Too certain. Those words carried the kind of calm only monsters wear — the composed cruelty of someone who believes obedience is a given. The sentence sat in my palm like a hot coal. I could feel its heat searing the inside of me.“Ma’am.” Liam’s voice from the doorway was tight, every syllable measured to keep him from breaking. He hadn’t slept either. The tie hung loose around his neck, his hair a tumble of exhaustion; the man looked like he’d been circling the house a

Chapter 54: Ghosts in white walls

Evelyn’s POVThe corridor was a battlefield.Not with guns or bombs, but with the relentless pounding of my heart and the ghosts that had been resurrected before my very eyes.Sebastian Rodgers.Even under the harsh fluorescent lights, even pale and unconscious on that stretcher, he was unmistakable. The sharp lines of his jaw, the slope of his brow, the mouth I once swore could destroy me and save me in the same breath.And just like that, all the air was sucked out of the sterile hallway.The scent of antiseptic clawed at my throat. Somewhere down the hall, a monitor beeped in an endless rhythm, steady and cruel. I couldn’t move. My back pressed against the wall, the cool paint biting through the thin fabric of my blouse as my nails carved half-moons into my palms. They wheeled him past—white sheets, pale skin, the faint, rhythmic sway of his arm against the rails—and the world narrowed to that single moment.My world was Kent in that room. My son. My baby. His fragile breathing, hi

Chapter 55: fragile joy

The faint beeping of machines was the only sound anchoring me to reality. Each rhythmic pulse was a fragile reminder that he was still here — that my world hadn’t completely fallen apart.I sat slumped in the hospital chair, my back aching, my hand wrapped tightly around Kent’s small fingers as though my grip alone could tether him to this world. His skin was cool — too cool — and the faint sheen of sweat glistened on his temple, catching the weak fluorescent light.He looked so pale. Too fragile. The warmth and mischief that once danced behind those bright eyes were gone now, drained from his tiny body as if someone had reached in and stolen it along with his laughter.But he was breathing.That alone was a miracle.Each shallow rise and fall of his chest was a prayer answered, yet it came with a thousand unanswered ones still lodged in my heart. I wanted to hold him tighter, but I was terrified of hurting him, of pressing too hard, of shattering what was left of him. My thumb brushe

Chapter 56: the unwanted guest

The morning sun spilled through the curtains, scattering gold across the living room. Streamers crisscrossed the walls, balloons bobbed in clusters near the corners, and the faint scent of chocolate cake drifted from the kitchen.It was the first time the house had felt alive in weeks.Kent sat propped up on the couch, still pale but smiling faintly, his eyes glowing brighter than they had since the hospital. A soft blanket was tucked around him, his small frame dwarfed by the cushions. Rolland crouched in front of him, holding up two different sets of ribbons like they were sacred artifacts.“Blue or gold? You pick, Kent. It’s your birthday.”Kent blinked at the ribbons, his lips twitching in the smallest of smiles. His hand—still weak, trembling slightly—lifted and pointed toward the blue.“Blue it is!” Rolland announced triumphantly, puffing out his chest like a hero who had just won a great battle.Anastasia clapped her hands, the sound light and sweet, and skipped to Muna’s side

Chapter 57: the birthday reunion

Liam didn’t move, but his jaw tightened. “I’m not starting. I’m reminding you. There’s a difference.”Her breath hitched, but she held his gaze. “You think I don’t know what I’m walking into? You think I haven’t been preparing for this moment since the second I said yes to the children?”He sighed, running a hand through his hair, eyes flicking toward the clock on the wall. “Preparing doesn’t make it hurt any less.”“Neither does hiding.” The words came out softer than she intended, almost a whisper. She turned back to the window, the reflection of her face faint in the glass—composed on the outside, chaos underneath. “They need this. I can handle it.”“Can you?” he asked quietly.The question lingered in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.Evelyn’s fingers brushed against the edge of the curtain, tracing the fabric without realizing it. “I have to,” she said finally. “Because if I can’t face him now, then he still owns a part of me. And I won’t give him that.”For a mome

Chapter 58: the birthday reunion 2

The silence stretched for a heartbeat too long, heavy and fragile all at once. The air felt thick, as if even the walls were holding their breath, waiting for someone to move first. Evelyn looked away, pretending to busy herself with clearing crumbs from the table, anything to avoid the familiarity in his voice.Anastasia didn’t notice the tension; she was already onto the next box, dragging it toward Sebastian with both hands. “This one’s from Rolland!” she announced proudly.Sebastian’s eyes flickered toward his eldest son. “Is it?” His tone was light, but his voice trembled at the edges.Rolland gave a stiff nod, refusing to meet his father’s gaze. “I—I made it,” he muttered, his fingers twisting the edge of his shirt.Sebastian swallowed hard. “Then I’m honored.” He opened the box carefully, as if afraid to damage whatever lay inside. When he pulled out a small wooden airplane—roughly carved, uneven but full of care—his breath hitched. He turned it over in his hands, tracing the g

...

4 5 6 7 8

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP