All Chapters of Dear Ex-Husband, Revenge is Mine!: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

RYAN Harold Windsor was a complete asshole. And I might just fucking kill him.Up until about a year ago, I’d thought my sister was dead. I’d thought her body was even buried, but it wasn’t. Another damn body was placed in my sister’s coffin, charred beyond recognition so nobody would notice.The story was that Layla was in a car with Macerick Sinclair, both of them high out of their minds. But she was the one driving. Not him.I fucking hated Maverick Sinclair because he’d let my sister drive. Granted, they were both irresponsible teenagers, but he should have stopped her.He never should have let her drive.And then his fucking family offered my parents a shitload of money to keep their mouths shut, and my parents—their souls rest in peace—agreed.They fucking agreed.And so I spent years hating the Sinclair family, plotting my revenge plan and everything.But Maverick fled the city. Starting a stupid tech company in Amsterdam that he named after my sister, like that was supposed t

IRIS The moment the doors to the dining room closed shut, a heavy silence fell over the room. Uncomfortable as hell and too damn loud.My father’s gaze shifted down to his food, and he started to eat again, like he hadn’t just asked Ryan and Layla to abandon their meals and leave us alone.He was really fucking good at pretending like nothing was wrong. I supposed that was how he was able to easily stay away after he abandoned me.I glared at the glass of wine in front of me. It would be a good idea to get drunk as hell, but I couldn’t risk it.I needed to have a sound mind if I was going to continue this bloody conversation with my father.“What do you want from me?” I asked again, quieter this time. My throat felt tight as I watched him chew the food in his mouth, his gaze focused ahead of him instead of at the person sitting beside him.After a full, long minute, he finally turned to glance at me, his eyes narrowed at the edges as they studied me with the same interest you’d use t

RYAN Harold Windsor was a complete asshole. And I might just fucking kill him.Up until about a year ago, I’d thought my sister was dead. I’d thought her body was even buried, but it wasn’t. Another damn body was placed in my sister’s coffin, charred beyond recognition so nobody would notice.The story was that Layla was in a car with Macerick Sinclair, both of them high out of their minds. But she was the one driving. Not him.I fucking hated Maverick Sinclair because he’d let my sister drive. Granted, the were both irresponsible teenagers, but he should have stopped her.He never should have let her drive.And then his fucking family offered my parents a shitload of money to keep their mouths shut, and my parents—their would rest in peace—agreed.They fucking agreed.And so I spent years hating the Sinclair family, plotting my revenge plan and everything.But Maverick fled the city. Starting a stupid tech company in Amsterdam that he named after my sister, like that was supposed to

IRIS The moment the doors to the dining room closed shut, a heavy silence fell over the room. Uncomfortable as hell and too damn loud. My father’s gaze shifted down to his food, and he started to eat again, like he hadn’t just asked Ryan and Layla to abandon their meals and leave us alone. He was really fucking good at pretending like nothing was wrong. I supposed that was how he was able to easily stay away after he abandoned me. I glared at the glass of wine in front of me. It would be a good idea to get drunk as hell, but I couldn’t risk it. I needed to have a sound mind if I was going to continue this bloody conversation with my father. “What do you want from me?” I asked again, quieter this time. My throat felt tight as I watched him chew the food in his mouth, his gaze focused ahead of him instead of at the person sitting beside him. After a full, long minute, he finally turned to glance at me, his eyes narrowed at the edges as they studied me with the same interest you’

IRIS‘I really want to be in your life, princess.’That was what my father had just said to me.After the many years I’d spent without a father, hearing him say that just… It made the anger at the bottom of my stomach boil even hotter.I had waited for this man on the front steps. Waited for him every single evening, hoping that one day, he would come back home. Come back to me.But he never did.Days and days passed. Weeks, months, years…I stopped waiting on the steps after a whole year.Mostly because I was tired of waiting, but also because that was when my mother started hitting me. And when I was finally able to run away, I ran straight to my grandmother—Harold’s mother. She was still alive at the time and also knew nothing about her son’s whereabouts.She was reluctant to take me in because she was scared she didn’t know how to take care of me since she was already failing in health.But I was fine with it. I didn't need much. I just needed a place to call home. A place to la