DIVORCED, BUT SPOILED BY MY FIVE BROTHERS のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 91 - チャプター 100

Chapter 91Janet’s Point of ViewWe all followed Anthony to the security room to review the camera footage. Tiffany and Claire trembled as we walked. Their faces were pale, their hands visibly shaking.I could see the fear in their eyes.They knew exactly what was coming.As we moved down the corridor, Claire suddenly spoke, her voice weak and breathless.“I’m not feeling well,” she said, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I think I need to go to the hospital.”Rowan immediately moved to her side, holding her as if she were fragile porcelain. His protective instincts kicked in without hesitation.I watched the scene with a strange detachment. Rowan had always been like this—quick to protect, quick to shield. He would drop everything for his family, no matter the cost.But when it came to me, he wouldn’t even listen.He wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain.I pushed the thought aside.It didn’t matter anymore.We were already divorced.When we reached the security room, Anthony tur

Rowan’s Point of ViewI stood there long after Dickson’s car disappeared into the night.The red taillights faded at the end of the driveway, swallowed by darkness, and yet I couldn’t move. It felt as though something had been torn out of my chest and taken with her.The driveway was empty.So was I.The night air was cool, but I barely felt it. My hands were still in my pockets, fingers curled tight, nails pressing into my palms as if pain could anchor me to something real.I had doubted her. Publicly. Coldly. Without hesitation.I hadn’t even paused to question it. I hadn’t asked for her side. I had simply looked at her, weighed her against Claire’s tears, and chosen wrong.The memory made my stomach tighten — the way my voice had turned distant, the way her eyes had hardened when she realized I wasn’t on her side. I hadn’t just doubted her — I had made sure she felt it.And the worst part wasn’t Claire’s lies.It was how easily I had believed them.The damage had already been done.

Janet's Point of ViewPeter and I were driving to see Ezra the next day. I had reached out to her the night before, and she made time for me immediately. It was wonderful how quickly she responded.Peter had heard me mention Ezra before, but he had never actually met her. When I told him she had mentored me, it wasn’t entirely accurate. The truth was more complicated than that. Ezra and I had started learning design at the same time. We weren’t mentor and student — we were peers. We grew together, challenged each other, and pushed one another forward. She was slightly older than me, but in those early years, we stood on equal ground.Ezra came from a humble background, just like mine. But she was fortunate enough to earn a scholarship to study in France. That opportunity sharpened her skills and shaped her into the designer she is today. We stayed in contact over the years, and I helped her with designs when she was just starting out. We were more like best friends than anything else.

Janet’s Point of ViewWe had barely recovered from the confrontation when the door opened again.Rowan stepped inside.The air shifted instantly.Flora didn’t hesitate. She rushed to him as if she had been waiting for rescue, her fingers clutching his sleeve.“Rowan,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Thank God you’re here.”Her body shook convincingly. Anyone who didn’t know her would have believed it.“I came here peacefully,” she continued, her voice breaking at the right places. “And she started attacking me. She accused me of stealing you. She humiliated me.”Ezra glanced at me.“Is that your ex-husband?” she asked quietly.“Yes,” I replied.Rowan hadn’t taken his eyes off me.Not once.His gaze was intense, searching — not angry, not soft — just trying to understand.Flora tightened her grip on his arm. “You need to do something. You can’t let her treat me like this.”Rowan’s jaw flexed.“This isn’t why we came,” he said calmly. “We came for you to select a design. Handle that

Rowan's Point of View When I arrived home, the house felt unusually bright.My mother was seated in the sitting room, as if she had been waiting.She looked up the moment I stepped inside.“Well?” she asked smoothly. “Did Ezra agree to design Flora’s dress for the homecoming party?”I loosened my tie before answering. “It wasn’t finalized.”Her gaze sharpened slightly. “That concert and the party are important. Appearances matter. Flora needs to look flawless. If tonight goes well, the public response will be favorable.” She tilted her head. “And if Ezra is pleased with the collaboration, she could continue working with Flora in the future.”I started toward the stairs.“In fact,” she added lightly, as if the thought had just occurred to her, “if everything progresses naturally, she could even design Flora’s wedding gown someday.”My foot stopped mid-step.I turned slowly.“Wedding gown?” I repeated.She didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled — calm, composed, calculating. “Rowan, you’re