All Chapters of Dear Ex-wife, You're More Than A Substitute: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Richard’s POV It was already past noon when I finally pulled myself together and drove to the office. Rain pelted the windshield as I sat at a red light, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other tapped restlessly on my thigh. I hadn’t slept well. My mind had been a whirlwind of Camilla’s voice, the flash of fire in her eyes, the way she’d looked at me before storming out the night before. I hadn’t been able to breathe right since. She didn’t just walk out of my house, she walked out of whatever fragile thing was building between us. It hurt more than I was willing to admit. And now, heading into work, I wasn’t sure how to face her. Would she even look at me? Would she pretend like none of it happened? I couldn’t blame her if she did. By the time I stepped into the building, I barely acknowledged the greetings I received. I was soaked, unshaven, and just barely holding it together. On the surface, I was the CEO. The boss. But inside… everything felt like it was fray

The day had been long. Longer than most. Even after everything that happened, the stolen project, the chaos, the silent tension between everyone on the executive floor… my face remained composed. But inside… everything felt like it was shifting.I had spent hours in my office, keeping my head down, working through files while the storm brewed quietly in Richard’s. I could sense his presence without needing to look up. The energy around him was… heavy. Like something had broken and was trying, desperately, not to bleed out.It wasn’t my business. At least, not outwardly.I had my own part to play.I gathered my things slowly when the clock finally blinked 7:42 p.m. Christine had texted earlier that Zane had eaten and was already curled up in bed with his favorite bedtime story. That was my signal to breathe. I was free to go.I reached for my handbag, pushing a pen behind my ear as I took one last glance at the work I’d pushed aside most of the day. I stacked the files, slipped my lapt

I turned back toward him, slowly, my pulse catching in my throat. He was facing the ceiling now, one hand flung over his eyes, the other clenched against his chest. “I should’ve protected you,” he murmured, barely coherent. “I should’ve believed you…” I stood still, caught in a tide of emotion I couldn’t explain. Watching him unravel like that… like the years had never passed… like he wasn’t a powerful CEO anymore but just a man… a man drowning in grief. He whispered again. “I was guilty, they told me you jumped off the cliff. I kept secrets from you that made you… didn’t love me anymore.” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, the kind that sounded more like a sob. “But that wasn’t true, was it?” he continued, voice cracking. “I never stopped loving you. I just… I let everything turned me to something else. I let my ego destroy us.” My throat tightened. I wanted to move. To tell him to shut up. To

Camilla’s POVThe first thing I did when I woke up was remind myself of one simple truth: Last night meant nothing.It didn’t matter that I spent the better part of my night dragging a drunk Richard Anderson into a hotel room, holding him upright as he threw up everything he’d numbed himself with, then listened to him cry about the woman he once loved, me... without knowing I was the one standing there, wiping his mouth with the edge of a hotel towel.That man had broken me once. I was only here to make sure he felt it twice as deep.And yet, the image of him curled up on that bed, muttering “Tessa” like it was the only name he remembered stayed with me longer than I wanted.I’d left him before he woke. Gave the hotel attendant instructions to take care of him. Left the room tidy, the whiskey bottle in the trash, his folded clothes on the armchair.It was almost too caring for someone bent on revenge.But I reminded myself again... what I did was damage control, not affection.Richard

The ballroom sparkled with the sheen of old money and new ambition.Chandeliers glittered overhead, cascading golden light across polished marble and champagne flutes. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement… investors, media figures, executives, all gathered to celebrate the monumental High-Rise project.A project I designed.A project Richard and I brought to life.And tonight was the official launch… the celebration of months of work, sacrifice, strategy… and secrets.The music swelled with smooth jazz. The scent of gardenias and aged scotch hung in the air. My black velvet gown trailed behind me as I moved through the room, exchanging smiles, nods, polite “thank yous” to those who gushed over the design mockups displayed on digital screens around the room.But my eyes, my focus… rested on one man.Richard Anderson.He stood across the room, surrounded by people yet so clearly… alone.His suit was perf