All Chapters of DEAR EX-HUSBAND, YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ME BACK: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Olivia's POV “You’re always everywhere Lucas is, and now he’s locked up for murder, and where are you? Nowhere to be found!”—echoed in my ears, a searing accusation that left my heart pounding, my hands trembling as I gripped the phone. My chest heaved, a mix of anger and guilt surging through me, the urge to defend myself, to scream that I hadn’t caused Lucas’s arrest, warring with the resolve I’d clung to for over a week—to stay away, to let him go. My throat tightened, tears stinging my eyes as I sat on the bed, Austin’s breakfast tray now cold beside me, the room heavy with the aftermath of his subtle manipulation, his suggestion of a trip to escape the “stress” of Lucas’s chaos. My breath was shallow, my mind reeling from the news of Lucas’s arrest for murder, his cuffed image still burned into my retina, and now Amelia’s call, her rage a fresh wound that threatened to unravel me.I swallowed hard, my voice shaking but firm as I responded, my heart racing with defiance. “Ame

Olivia's POVTears streamed down my face, hot and relentless, as I stumbled out of Lucas’s hospital room, the door’s soft click behind me a final severing of the fragile thread that had pulled me back to him. My chest heaved and sobs wrenching from my throat. His bruised face, his limping form, his plea for help with his company haunted me, a love I still carried but couldn’t act on, not with Amelia’s pregnancy and the prison walls now between us. My heart ached, torn between the man I loved and the life I was choosing to protect myself, my resolve to let him go a wound that bled with every breath. The police station’s cold corridor blurred through my tears, my hands trembling as I clutched my bag, my steps unsteady as I headed for the parking lot, desperate to escape the pain, the guilt, the love I couldn’t shake.I was halfway to my car, the autumn air sharp against my tear-streaked face, when a hand grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around with a force that jolted my heart. I g

Olivia's POV The dining room was warm with the glow of late morning light, the table set with my father’s favorite brunch—golden waffles, fresh berries, and strong coffee—a deliberate effort to soften the conversation I knew would be fraught. My heart pounded, a nervous rhythm that hadn’t slowed since Amelia’s visit yesterday, her desperate plea to help Lucas echoing in my mind, her gaslighting about her unborn child a hook I couldn’t shake. Agreeing to call my father, to leverage his connections to aid Lucas, had been a decision born of pity for an innocent child, not love, but it weighed heavy, stirring a storm of guilt, fear, and resolve. I’d hurt Austin again, promising to focus on our trip, yet here I was, about to beg my father for a favor I knew he’d hate, risking his disapproval, our bond, for a man I’d vowed to let go. My hands trembled as I poured coffee, my throat tight, my chest aching with the memory of Lucas’s bruised face, his plea for trust, and my refusal to stay

Olivia's POV The prison hospital room was a sterile cage, its white walls and antiseptic stench a constant reminder of my fall—arrested for a murder I didn’t commit, beaten within hours of arriving, now nursing bruises and a fractured spirit. My body ached, my face a patchwork of purple and blue, my limp a painful echo of the attack that had left me reeling. I couldn’t figure out why it had happened, why a group of inmates had targeted me so quickly, their fists and boots a brutal welcome that came without warning. My mind churned, replaying the chaos, searching for a reason—had I crossed someone without knowing? Was it tied to Richard West’s death, the crime they’d pinned on me? The uncertainty gnawed at me, a cold dread that settled in my gut, my heart pounding with the need to protect myself, to survive this hell until I could clear my name.I’d learned fast that survival here wasn’t just about strength—it was about leverage, connections, knowing who to trust. My lawyer, Har

Lucas's POV Amelia’s scream—“My water broke!”—echoed through the phone, a jolt that sent my heart racing, my breath catching in the dim confines of the safe house. My body froze, my hands trembling as I gripped the receiver, fear and urgency flooding me, the reality of her labor crashing over me like a wave. My child—our child—was coming, and I was free, out of prison just in time, a twist of fate that felt like a miracle after the hell I’d endured. My chest tightened, a mix of joy and dread warring within me, the memory of my escape—bribing my way out, leaving a stand-in to wear my name—still a raw wound, a risk that had paid off for this moment. I dropped the phone, my bruises aching, my mind racing as I grabbed my jacket, my voice a hoarse shout to the safe house’s lone guard. “I need a car—now! Hospital, nearest one!” The city lights streaking past as I drove to the hospital. My heart pounding with a fierce hope, a desperate need to be there, to witness my child’s birth, to