All Chapters of Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

The silence in the wisteria room was thick and suffocating, punctuated only by Evelyn’s ragged breathing and the soft, insistent drip of her tears onto the laptop keys. The weight of Sophia’s betrayal, coupled with the crushing realization of her own misguided anger, pressed down on her. Hunter’s quiet declaration—"I never did. Not once. I could never cheat. Not on you. Not on us"—echoed in the air, a devastating truth that brought no immediate comfort, only a fresh wave of agony. With trembling hands, Evelyn reached out and, with a swift, decisive movement, slammed the laptop shut. The sharp click resonated in the quiet room, a final, emphatic punctuation mark to the horrifying revelation. She pushed the laptop away, as if its presence burned her, then she turned away from Hunter, walking a few shaky steps towards the large window that overlooked the moonlit gardens. Her back was to him, her shoulders hunched, her hands clasped tightly together. Hunter remained rooted to the spot,

The click of the door latch echoed in the silence of the wisteria room, a small, definitive sound that ripped through Hunter. He stood there for a long moment, staring at the closed wooden panel, the stark finality of her words ringing in his ears. The air felt heavy, suffocating, laden with unspoken pain and insurmountable barriers. Slowly, his shoulders slumped. He backed away from the door, each step heavy, dragging. The carefully constructed facade of calm he had maintained for days, the relentless pursuit of truth, the desperate hope that had fueled him, all crumbled into dust. He didn’t go to his own room, or to the comfort of his grandmother's presence. Instead, he simply sank to the floor, right where he had spent so many nights, just outside her door. He didn't curl up. He didn't pace. He didn't make a sound. He simply sat, his long frame folded, his elbows resting on his knees, his head falling heavily into his hands. His fingers tangled in his hair, gripping it, as if tr

The quiet act of returning The Galaxy Gemstone Company had created a subtle shift in the sterile hospital waiting room. Evelyn still held the legal documents, their weight a tangible representation of years of pain and, now, a hesitant flicker of unexpected peace. Hunter sat across from her, respecting her silence, his gaze fixed on the wall, but his presence felt less intrusive, less suffocating. Then, he spoke, his voice low, breaking the fragile quiet. "Evelyn, there's something else. Something else I need to address." She looked at him, her guard still firmly in place, but a flicker of morbid curiosity compelled her to listen. What now? More reparations? Hunter finally met her eyes, and there was a determined, almost fierce light in them. "James. I know he’s been a constant threat, a shadow hanging over you and your father’s legacy." Evelyn tensed. The very name was a venomous whisper in her mind. "What about him?" Evelyn asked, her voice flat, betraying none of the turmoil

The days at Hunter’s grandmother’s house had woven themselves into a gentle tapestry, each thread a quiet moment of healing for Evelyn. The peaceful rhythm of the old home, Grandma’s unwavering affection, and Hunter’s respectful distance had slowly, imperceptibly, begun to chip away at the formidable ice wall around her heart. She still held her resentment close, a familiar, bitter comfort, but beneath it, a tentative thawing had begun. Hunter continued to move through the house like a silent sentinel, always present, never intrusive. He’d spend hours on calls related to James, the legal battle a constant undercurrent, but he never brought the stress of it to her. His focus was entirely on ensuring her comfort and peace. One morning, Evelyn woke to the soft light filtering through her curtains. She stretched, a rare, unburdened feeling unfurling in her chest. She decided to go to the veranda for some fresh air before breakfast. The wooden floorboards creaked softly under her bare f

Days bled into weeks at Grandma’s house, each one a testament to the quiet, almost imperceptible shift in the atmosphere between Evelyn and Hunter. The initial sharp edges of her anger had softened into a dull ache, a pervasive sadness that lingered, but no longer consumed her. She still carried the weight of past hurts, the phantom pain of neglect, but Hunter’s unwavering presence and his meticulous, unobtrusive care had begun to chip away at her defenses. Evelyn no longer actively avoided him. The elaborate detours through the house, the hurried retreats to her room when she sensed his approach, had ceased. She accepted his presence, a silent acknowledgment of his role in her healing. When he offered a glass of water, she took it. When he silently adjusted the pillow behind her head while she read, she didn't flinch away. She might not offer a smile, or initiate conversation, but the outright rejection was gone, replaced by a quiet, watchful acceptance. Hunter, for his part, ma