Lahat ng Kabanata ng Chasing The Stubborn Ex-Wife: Kabanata 61 - Kabanata 70

The biting wind howled outside, rattling the windowpanes of Vinni’s fourth-floor apartment, a stark reminder of the treacherous rain-slicked streets Evelyn had just navigated. Stepping across the threshold felt like entering a different world, a haven of warmth and comforting domesticity. The air was thick with the inviting aroma of freshly brewed Ethiopian Yirgacheffe coffee, its rich, slightly citrusy notes mingling with the sweet, comforting scent of toasted sourdough bread. A soft, indie folk playlist drifted from hidden speakers, the gentle melodies creating a soothing backdrop to the cozy ambiance cast by strategically placed lamps with warm, amber bulbs. The living room, with its mismatched but comfortable furniture, overflowing bookshelves, and vibrant throw pillows, exuded a sense of lived-in charm, a stark contrast to the sterile, power-hungry atmosphere of Starlink Tower.Evelyn stood just inside the doorway, a dark, sodden silhouette against the warm light spilling from

Next day the Metro Times newsroom, usually a vibrant hub of ringing phones and hurried footsteps, had succumbed to an unusual stillness. The rhythmic hum of the ventilation system was now the most prominent sound, a low drone that amplified the silence rather than filling it. Desks were scattered with discarded coffee cups and hastily scribbled notes, remnants of the day’s frantic pursuit of stories. But now, under the muted glow of the overhead fluorescent lights, the room felt deserted, almost ghostly. Nina Vargas remained hunched over her desk, a solitary figure amidst the quiet chaos. The glow of her laptop screen illuminated her determined face, casting long shadows on the stacks of documents that surrounded her like a fortress. Dexter Carter’s name seemed to leap from the pages, a recurring motif in the damning evidence she had been meticulously reviewing. Altered financial logs, their figures meticulously manipulated. Forged signatures that bore a chilling resemblance to the

“Evelyn and Adrian Wells met three times in the last two weeks. Once at a prominent law firm – Morris & Lane. Evelyn had a private meeting with a criminal defense attorney named Abigail Lane.” The agent laid out more photographs, arranging them neatly across the expansive desk.Hunter snapped his gaze up, his eyes like chips of ice. “Defense attorney? Evelyn has nothing to defend. What in God’s name is going on?”“That’s what’s… unusual, sir,” the agent said, his tone suggesting he, too, found the situation perplexing. “They weren’t being particularly subtle either. No disguises, no attempts to conceal their meetings. It was almost as if she wanted someone to notice.”Hunter’s gaze returned to the photographs, his mind racing. Evelyn leaning close to Adrian in the crowded café, their heads bent together in conspiratorial whispers. Adrian placing a comforting, almost protective hand on her back as they exited a nondescript office building. A flicker of jealousy, sharp and sudden, like

The glass doors of the underground parking lot hissed open with a mechanical whisper, exhaling a gust of cold, stale air as Evelyn stepped out of the elevator. The harsh fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting long, stark shadows across the concrete floor. She clutched a sleek leather file bag tightly under her arm, its smooth surface cold against her damp fingers.Her heels, sharp and unforgiving, echoed loudly in the cavernous space, each clicking a staccato rhythm against the silence. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of the crucial pieces she and Adrian had painstakingly uncovered the night before. Dates, names, altered financial records, the cold certainty of Linda Marlowe’s murder – all fitting together, forming a grim, undeniable picture. Dangerous pieces, indeed.She spotted Vinni’s car, a familiar blue hatchback, a few rows ahead, parked near a support pillar. A small sigh of relief almost escaped her lips. Just a few more steps, and she could be in the relative safety of her f

The morning air was deceptively bright, almost pristine, filtering through the humid remnants of the previous night’s rain. It held the kind of eerie calm that always made Evelyn feel restless, a silence that hummed with unfulfilled expectations. She sat behind the wheel of her sleek black SUV, the expensive leather cool beneath her hands, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm against the steering wheel. The vehicle’s internal systems hummed to life around her as her phone’s Bluetooth connected with a soft, electronic chime.Adrian’s voice, crisp and clear, came through the speakers.“Did you get the file I sent?” he asked, his tone betraying a hint of the urgency they both felt. The file was the culmination of their clandestine work, the digital ghost of Dexter Carter finally brought to light.“Yes. It came through just as I was leaving the apartment,” Evelyn replied, her voice sharp, focused, already mentally dissecting the contents. The detailed spreadsheets, the cross-reference