All Chapters of Married to my ex-husband's boss: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

ELLE One week. Seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours of waking up in a hospital room that felt too big, too white, and definitely too quiet. Well, it wasn't exactly quiet. The doctors and nurses would come in to ask how I was feeling. But not once have I felt guilty for looking away and ignoring their questions and nudges. Or for pulling my arms away from Raymond's hand when he tried to comfort me with his touch. Or for blinking away when he gave me that look that was capable of breaking me. But I was already broken, and there was nothing left to break anymore. Sometimes I wondered if I was punishing him, or me. I guess it was both of us. His words and promises still echoed in my head like one of those huge church bells. He had told us we would be safe here in Paris. But then what happened? My baby was taken away from me! She was snatched away from me even before I got to hold her little arms, or stare at her and hold her in my arms. I wasn't even sure who she look

RAYMOND The morning was gray, overcast, a dull drizzle painting the streets of Paris in muted tones. I stormed into the Paris police station, my coat still damp, hands trembling slightly. The officers glanced at me—by now, they had come to recognize the look of a man teetering on the edge of panic. “Mr. Orlando,” one of the detectives said, his voice cautious. “We’ve been expecting you.” “Where is she?” I demanded before even closing the door. “Have you found anything? Any trace of our baby? Any clue at all?” The lead detective—a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp eyes exhaled slowly. “We’ve been following every lead, checking witnesses, reviewing traffic cameras… but nothing concrete. We don’t know who took her. We don’t know the kidnapper, and so far, the trail’s cold.” My stomach dropped. “Nothing? Still nothing? Nothing is unacceptable! Our daughter is out there somewhere, alone with whoever the hell had kidnapped her, and every second matters! You have to do some

ELLE Night settled in slowly, swallowing the hospital room in a tired, heavy quiet. I sat on my bed with Rosetta’s baby cradled against my chest, my arms stiff from holding him for so long. My eyelids felt like they were made of iron—every blink heavier than the last—but I refused to sleep. Not again. Not when a baby was in my arms. Not since the last time I closed my eyes, my world disappeared. I rocked gently, humming the lullaby I always imagined singing to my daughter. The warmth of the child in my arms soothed me, but fear clawed at the back of my throat with every heartbeat. What if I slept and woke up empty again? What if this child… vanished too? I blinked hard, forcing myself upright. Stay awake. I had to stay awake. But grief had a way of dragging you under, no matter how fiercely you fought it. And eventually… I lost. Sleep took me quietly, stealing my resistance as the baby breathed softly against me. I didn’t know how long I was out. Minutes? Hours? It didn’

RAYMOND I didn’t see it coming. Elle’s voice was quiet when she said she would be leaving. For a moment, I froze. My brain simply trying to process the words. My hand, which had been offering silent support at her back, gave a sudden, surprised squeeze. I kept my face rigid, forcing the shock down, knowing any argument would shatter her entirely. Rosetta blinked rapidly, her mouth falling open. “Leaving? Elle, what do you mean?” She shifted her baby to her shoulder, frowning. "I think it's time for me to go home," Elle said simply. Rosetta was still shocked. “But isn't it too early? I mean, I know you just got stable, but you’re still healing. So why rush out?” I saw and felt Elle struggle for an answer. Her eyes didn’t meet Rosetta's. They stayed fixed on the floor tiles. “I think I’ll heal better at home,” she whispered. “Around family. Somewhere quiet.” She forced a tiny smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I think I’ll be alright.” A lie. It was a soft, shaky lie. I

ELLE People kept approaching me, bewildered, like I was an artifact at a museum. But I didn't care. None of them would understand what just happened. The whole scene replayed in my head, and I just couldn't believe it. “He had her…” I whispered, half-delirious. “He had my baby… God… he had my little girl…” I knew that from the start, but with that smile he had, it made things worse. Someone said, “Ma’am? Are you okay?” “Call someone,” someone else whispered. Another said, “Is she… is she having a breakdown?” People kept talking, but their voices seemed far away. Because I was back in that moment— hearing the cry, smelling the sterile room, feeling the empty weight of my arms. And now this. He had taunted me. Shown his face. Proved that he could get close anytime he wanted. I lifted my hands to my head, gripping my hair as sobs shook my entire body. I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t safe. And neither was my baby. I had never felt so helpless, nor so utterly broken. And in that