บททั้งหมดของ DEAR EX-HUSBAND, YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ME BACK: บทที่ 231 - บทที่ 240

Lucas’s POVThe hospital’s sterile hum lingered in my ears as I left Vivian and Ethan at Olivia’s bedside, their presence a fragile anchor against the storm of fear that churned in my chest. My heart thudded, heavy with dread, as I gripped the steering wheel, the road blurring under a gray afternoon sky. My hands trembling on the wheel, my throat tight with the image of Olivia clutching her belly, her eyes wide with pain and terror, her voice breaking as she begged to go home. My eyes stung, burning with the memory of her panic over the bouquet, the cryptic note—To meeting you soon—that had sent her spiraling, her PTSD flaring like a raw scar from Austin’s bomb two years ago. My stomach twisted, my heart aching with the weight of her fear, the same fear that had gripped us when the reception hall exploded, nearly stealing her, Lily, Noah, and our unborn daughter.My throat burned, my pulse quickening as I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking with the need to protect my family, to

Olivia’s POVI lay propped up on the bed, my swollen belly heavy with Hope, whose faint kicks reminded me of the scare that had landed me here. My heart thudded, a frantic drumbeat, as I stared at the TV screen, where Vivian had flipped on a cheerful rom-com, its laughter a cruel mockery of the fear clawing at my chest. My pulse raced, my hands trembling against the stiff sheets, my throat tight with the memory of the bouquet on our porch its lilies pristine and taunting, the note—To meeting you soon—seared into my mind like a brand. My stomach churned, my heart aching with the terror that had gripped me since that note, the fear that Austin, despite his confirmed death, was somehow back, watching us.Vivian sat beside me, her heart warm with effort as she shuffled a deck of cards, her eyes bright with a forced cheer. “Come on, Olivia,” she said, her voice light, her hands dealing cards onto the tray table. “One round of Go Fish, for old times’ sake.” My throat burned, my pulse

Lucas’s POVThe air in the rundown lot near the hospital was thick with the smell of oil and dust, but it was Olivia’s trembling hand in mine that anchored me, her pulse racing under my fingers as I gripped her tightly, trying to keep her grounded. My heart thudded, heavy with dread, as I stood beside her, my throat raw from the tension of the past hours. My eyes stung, burning with the memory of her insistence to come here, to chase the black sedan, the car tied to the note that had chilled us: Guess your kids would have been smarter too.My stomach churned, my pulse quickening as I glanced at her, her swollen belly a fragile reminder of Hope, our unborn daughter, who’d already endured too much stress from Olivia’s hospital scare. I squeezed her hand, my hands trembling with the need to protect her, my eyes scanning the lot where Tom crouched by the car, his heart resolute but guarded as he searched for clues.I wasn’t sure what Tom was doing, his hands moving methodically over th

Lucas’s POVThe morning light beamed, casting a soft glow over the breakfast table where Lily and Noah’s chatter filled the air, their voices a fragile anchor against the storm of fear that had gripped me since the car explosion yesterday. My heart thudded, a heavy rhythm, as I sipped my coffee, my pulse racing with the memory of the fireball. My stomach churned, my hands trembling as I glanced at Olivia, her swollen belly a reminder of Hope, our unborn daughter, who’d already endured too much stress. My pulse quickened, my heart aching with the need to protect her, Lily, Noah, and my mother, who sat across from me, her eyes warm but worried, her heart open with concern. My throat burned, my eyes burning with the weight of keeping them safe, especially after the hospital card and the scared face Olivia swore she’d seen.Tom called just as I cleared the dishes, his voice low, his heart resolute but strained. My pulse faltered, my throat raw as I stepped into the living room, my eye

Lucas’s POVThe dim glow of the police station’s monitor room cast flickering shadows across Tom’s face as we hunched over the grainy CCTV footage from Vivian’s wedding two years ago, my heart pounding with a desperate need to find answers. My pulse raced, my throat raw as I stared at the screen, my eyes stinging with exhaustion after hours of combing through angles from that chaotic night at the venue where Austin’s bomb had nearly destroyed us. My hands trembled, my stomach churning with the weight of his threats—the hospital card, the car note, the phone call at the quarry where he’d mocked me, vowing to kill Olivia, Lily, Noah, and Hope. My heart ached, my pulse quickening as I thought of my mother, shaken by her encounter with Austin, who’d warned her to keep me in line if she wanted us alive. My throat tightened, my eyes burning with the fear that he was still out there, orchestrating this nightmare.Tom’s voice broke the silence, his heart resolute as he pointed at the scree