Semua Bab Revenge After Divorce: Ex-Husband Regret : Bab 121 - Bab 130

—Zeke— The moment the sleek black car pulled up to the clubhouse, I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen just a little. The bouncers at the door—two towering men with arms crossed—instantly recognized me. Their eyes flickered with respect, maybe even a bit of fear, as they bowed slightly and nodded me through without a word.Inside, the place was a whole different universe. The bass from the music pounded against the walls, shaking the floor beneath my boots. Neon lights flickered everywhere—pulsing pinks, blues, and greens that painted the room in a wild, hypnotic glow. Strippers twirled around poles with practiced grace, their movements fluid and hypnotic. Groups of men and women huddled in dark corners—some locking lips, others nursing drinks, and a few brave souls lost themselves on the dance floor.None of it interested me.I navigated past the chaos with a calm, cold determination, ignoring the catcalls and whistles from the crowd. Upstairs was the VIP section, the real play

– Samantha’s POV —My lips still burned from Dalton’s kiss, a fire I didn’t want to feel. I stumbled back, my heart racing, my body betraying me with a shiver that wasn’t just anger. How dare he? After everything—his lies, his betrayal, the way he’d toyed with my heart like I was nothing. I pressed my hands against my desk, steadying myself, my nails digging into the polished wood. My office, my empire, my new life as McQueen—it was supposed to be untouchable. Yet here he was, storming in, shattering my walls with one reckless, rage-filled kiss.I was furious. My chest heaved, and I glared at the spot where he’d stood moments ago, his tall frame filling my office like he owned it. The nerve of him, sitting in my chair, demanding me and our daughter back like we were prizes to be claimed. And then be had the gall to question why I’d work with Zeke, my ex-husband, as if he had any right to be jealous. I scoffed, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Jealousy looked pathetic on Dalton Mont

—DALTON— The heavy door creaked open, and my grandmother stepped in, her cane tapping the hardwood floor. She moved slowly but with purpose, her silver hair pulled tight in a bun, her eyes sharp as ever. At eighty, she was still a force, the matriarch who’d built the Montclair name alongside my grandfather. She wore a dark green robe, her posture straight despite the late hour. I set the whiskey down on the desk and faced her, bracing for whatever she’d come to say. She sighed, a heavy sound, and sits ainto the leather armchair by the fireplace. The dim glow cast shadows on her lined face, and for the first time, I saw worry there—real worry, not the calculated concern she usually showed. I stayed standing, my hands in my pockets, my suit still crisp despite the night’s chaos. “Granny,” I started, keeping my tone calm, “you don’t need to worry. I’ll handle everything. The Browns, Jessica, the news—it’s under control.” She shook her head, her lips tight. “No, Dalton,” she said, he

– Samantha’s POV— The sun was dipping low as we drove back from the park, Amore’s sleepy hums filling the SUV. Her stuffed bunny was clutched tight, her curls messy from the slide. Ryan was in the driver’s seat, tapping the wheel to a pop song, but his grin faded when my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, my stomach twisting. Zeke. My ex-husband. I frowned, my thumb hovering over the decline button. What did the fool want now?Neverthless, I answered, keeping my voice sharp. “Zeke, what is it?”“Samantha,” he said, his tone smooth, like he still had a right to say my name. “We need to meet. Tonight. The Grand Meridian Hotel, Room 1204. Eight o’clock.”What? I narrowed my eyes, leaning back against the leather seat. “okay,” I muttered coldly and hung up before he could say more. The nerve of him, acting like he could summon me.Ryan glanced over, his brow furrowed. “Who was that?”“Zeke,” I said, staring out the window at the city’s glittering lights. “Wants to meet at the Grand

– Samantha’s POV—The hospital room smelled like antiseptic and the chicken soup I was spooning from a tray. Sunlight streamed through the window, warming the white sheets on my bed. My head still ached, but the bandages on my arm and temple felt lighter today. I was healing fast, my body fighting as hard as my mind. Amore was safe with Ryan’s sister, and that thought kept me grounded. But my plans—crushing Zeke, the Frosts, and now Ophelia’s sneaky foreign deal—kept my heart racing.The door swung open, and I froze, my spoon halfway to my mouth. Dalton stood there, tall and devastating in a navy suit, his dark hair tousled, his green eyes locked on me. My breath caught. He looked like he owned the room, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his presence sucking the air out of it. My heart skipped, and I hated it. Why did he still do this to me?I set the spoon down, my hands shaky. “Dalton, why are you here?” I asked, my voice tight. “How’d you even know I was here?”He stepped cl