Semua Bab Shattered Vows : Bab 91 - Bab 100

ElenaThere’s a strange silence that follows survival.It’s not peaceful. It’s the breath between storms—the pause before the past claws its way back, whispering you’re not done yet.It had been three months since Victor Thorne disappeared. Three months since Kate’s death, the viral interview, and the chaos that followed. Jason’s empire had begun to crumble—investigations launched, funding frozen, board members distancing themselves like cowards abandoning a sinking ship.I should’ve felt victorious.But all I felt was hollow.The house in Zurich was gone. Noah and I were staying in a quiet lakeside town in southern France now, under a different name. I called myself Claire now. Claire Moreau. The name tasted foreign but safe.Noah was enrolled in a local school, his French improving by the day. He still asked about his father sometimes, but less frequently now. He didn’t cry at night anymore.That was my only measure of progress.I spent my days

ElenaIt’s strange how the past doesn’t just visit—it haunts.Like perfume on a scarf long after the owner has gone. Like a door left ajar in your childhood home. Like the echo of a voice you swore you’d forgotten.I thought I had closed every chapter with Daniel.But I was wrong.The phone rang just after midnight.It was a number I didn’t recognize—Swiss country code. My stomach knotted as I stared at it glowing on my nightstand. For a second, I considered silencing it and rolling over. But something told me not to.When I picked it up, there was no voice. Just heavy, familiar breathing.“Hello?” I whispered.“Elena…”My breath caught in my throat.His voice.Daniel.Raw. Hoarse. Desperate.“I need to see you,” he said.I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. It was like time folded in on itself—one moment I was standing in the safehouse bathroom with Noah’s toothbrush in hand, and the next, I was back in our old kitchen, crying ov

ElenaI returned to my apartment and locked the door behind me. It wasn’t fear—it was ritual.I’d learned to protect my space like a fortress. And yet, I still checked the windows. The balcony. The hallway camera feed.Daniel had left, yes. But his presence lingered. Not physically, but in the way a song gets stuck in your head—uninvited, persistent, and haunting.For three days, I didn’t answer my phone. I didn’t return emails. I went to work, and then I came home. And in between, I floated in the cold, weightless silence of avoidance.Until the morning I got the call.From Lucas.“Elena,” he said quietly, “we need to talk.”We met at a discreet café outside of the city—a neutral ground. One that didn’t belong to my memories with Daniel or the ruins of my past with Lucas.He looked older. Tired. His usual cool exterior was frayed at the edges.“I saw Daniel,” he said.I didn’t react.“He came to my office last night.”Now I looked

ElenaThe air was thick with silence as I waited in the small consultation room outside the courtroom.Noah was with my sister for the day. Lucas was down the hall, consulting with a paralegal. And I… I was sitting alone, palms cold despite the heating vent at my feet, staring at the clock on the wall as if it could offer mercy.A pre-custody mediation hearing. That’s what they called it.But I knew what it really was—a battleground dressed in civility.Daniel had filed for visitation. Supervised, for now, but it was a shot across the bow. A signal. He was no longer hiding in the shadows. He wanted in.And behind him—like a phantom stitched to his spine—stood Sophie.She didn’t come into the building. She didn’t have to. Her fingerprints were all over the strategy. The subtle leaks to the media, the whispered rumors about my mental stability, the fake social media accounts accusing me of controlling behavior. A calculated smear campaign dressed in concern

ElenaCourtrooms are rarely what people imagine them to be.There’s no cinematic music. No thunderous gasps. No dramatic cries of “Objection!” echoing off wooden walls. No—real courtroom battles are quieter. More calculated. Like a game of chess played with knives under the table.The morning of the hearing, I wore black.Not for mourning, but for war.A fitted dress, minimal jewelry, my hair tied back in a sleek knot. Calm. Unshaken. Unapologetically composed.I wasn’t here to be pitied.I was here to be believed.Lucas walked beside me through the courthouse lobby, his expression unreadable, the folder in his hand thick with evidence—bank records, email chains, surveillance photos, and Sophie’s signature on property documents she thought were buried.Daniel was already inside.So was she.They sat side by side.Sophie wore pastel pink. Strategic. Soft. Her hair curled, a pearl necklace hugging her throat. Her expression was demure, c