Semua Bab Dear Ex-Husband, Revenge is Mine!: Bab 161 - Bab 170

IRIS I hated funerals.I hadn’t really been to any funeral before, if I was being honest. I barely had any friends, let alone dead ones.But now, I was at Rhoda’s funeral.And I never wanted to attend another one ever again.Chelsea leaned against my arm, clutching it tightly as we sat in front of the church. It wasn’t a big funeral—I wasn’t sure Rhoda had any friends either, and a few of the people whom I knew definitely hadn’t been invited.Sebastian and Eleanor, for one. I shot them a dirty look when I first saw them. Sebastian had an indifferent expression on his face while Eleanor, with her baby bump, looked at me with pity.God, I hated that look. I hated it so much and I wished I could wipe it off her face.Megan sat on the other side of me. Amethyst was at home with Tania because I absolutely could not being her here.It wasn’t lost on me that my mother never got to hold her grandchild in her arms. To be honest, it hadn’t even crossed my mind at the hospital that day.I wonde

MAVERICK I fucking hated cemeteries.Not because of how the entire atmosphere was filled with death, or the dead themselves, but because of the liars who showed up to bury them.I had no problem with Sebastian being here, since he barely caused any trouble on his own, but my father? He didn’t show up to honor the woman he helped destroy. He came here for one reason and one reason only—to remind us that he was still here.I was sick of this motherfucker’s mind games.The moment we were away from the crowd, I slammed him against the wall of a nearby building, fisting the collar of his shirt.“You’ve got balls,” I spat, “showing up here like you’re not partially responsible for this.”As usual, Quentin wasn’t fazed. He just tilted his head, letting out a hum. “When you say partially… does that mean you don’t think I killed her? Or because you’re the one who killed her?”A growl teared from my throat, and I pulled my fist back, ready to land a blow on his jaw to wipe that fucked up smirk

IRIS A laugh escaped me before I could stop myself. But it wasn’t a happy or amused laugh.It was a ‘what-the-fuck’ laughter.Because really… What the fuck?Ryan kidnapped me and brought me here to this twisted barbie dream house of a room, and now he wanted me to eat breakfast like nothing happened?My gaze followed the girls as they walked out of the room, but when I tried to follow, Ryan stretched his hand out to block me. And then he shut the door.So now we were the only ones in the room.“Why am I here?” I gritted out, stepping closer to him.Ryan’s gaze raked over my body, his eyes burning with amusement and something darker. As though it just occurred to me, I glanced down at the clothes I was wearing. A pink pair of pajama short with a pink tank top. Something roiled in my stomach. “Did you touch me?”Ryan narrowed his eyes at me like he was trying to figure out what I meant, and then he arched his brow. “Tempting, Iris,” he said smoothly. “But no. There are maids who were

IRIS The memories I had of my father weren’t vivid, but they were there. I was still just a child when my mother told me that he wouldn’t be coming back home anymore.Prior to that day, I’d been listening to them having serious arguments that usually led to things breaking and crashing. My father wasn’t as close with me as he used to be anymore, and he hadn’t even been spending nights at home.I was in bed that night, but when Rhoda came into my room, I shut my eyes really tight, pretending to be asleep. But she wasn’t fooled.She forcefully shook me awake, and when I looked at her, her eyes were red rimmed, her breath reeked of alcohol, and she was glaring at me.“Your daddy’s not coming back anymore,” she said to me, her lips curling into a sneer, and then she laughed.“He doesn’t love me anymore, but he sure as hell doesn’t love you either, or else he would’ve stayed. Or taken you.”And then she shook me again while tears flooded my eyes. “He should’ve taken you. I don’t want a

IRIS It had been three full days. Three days of staring at the same four walls. Three days of watching the same man walk into the room to check in on me. I hadn’t had anything to eat in these past few days. Twice a day, the maids brought me food, but I didn’t touch them. They’d just come back and carry them and replace it with another tray. Like they were just hoping that I’d come around and decide that I wanted to eat. Ryan came in every morning after breakfast—or what was supposed to be breakfast—like clockwork. Always controlled, irritatingly calm. He’d say something like “hope you slept well, baby girl,” and expect me to reply. I never did. I stopped talking to him after the last conversation we had, because there was no use if he wasn’t planning on ever releasing me. So what I did was pretend to be asleep. It wasn’t hard to do since I was only ever on the bed. I’d lie on it, folding into myself as I backed the door, and he never questioned it. Not once. One wo