All Chapters of Dear Ex-husband, My Stepbrother is Your Replacement.: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

SILVAN “Sir, Ms. Montessori is here to see you.” I look up from the documents splayed on my table, the words “tell her to get lost” already on the tip of my tongue when the door slams open and Claire sashays into the room. I take one look at her six inch heels, red, puckered lips and strip club dress, my lips tightening with distaste. She’s here to stir up trouble. I just know it. “Silvan!” She whines. “Your assistant kept me outside for nearly thirty minutes.” She shoots Michael a venomous glare. When she refocuses her attention on me, her face is twisted in a childlike frown. She folds her arms underneath her breasts in a huff, exposing the barely clad bosoms even more. I have no idea why this woman thinks acting like a five year old around me would instantly have me wrapped around her little finger. My grip on my fountain pen tightens so hard, the plastic almost explodes. Claire Montessori is an anomaly in my life. Her presence only means my already stressful night i

SPECIAL APOLOGY: Hello, everyone, before this chapter kicks off, I would love to tender a special apology to my readers.I promised four chapters yesterday but due to a technical problem on my part (lack of signal in my area), only one of those chapters could get published on time.The problem has been resolved and four chapters will be uploaded today (three to make up for yesterday.)You have every right to be upset with me but I hope I can be forgiven this one time. Once again, I am deeply sorry. I apologize from the bottom of my heart. ***ASTRIDI don’t get the chance to speak because the officers barge past me and immediately surround Silvan, guns drawn.Silvan, on the other hand, seems… unfazed. I mean, there’s an element of mild surprise in his eyes but asides that, he looks like a group of stray kids barged into his office and waved toy guns in his face.“What the hell is going on here?!”Claire stumbles to her feet, her eyes wide with confusion. When she spots me, those sam

SILVAN“Sir, you need to see a doctor.” Michael says, his face twisted in a deep frown as he paces outside my cell while urgently scrolling through his iPad.It’s almost thirty minutes since the NYPD chief of police and his men threw me into this dirty, square entrapment.My skin crawls as I examine the damp, algae-infested crack in the walls. There’s a brown, badly scrubbed stain on the floor — it looks suspiciously like dried blood.Bile rises in my throat and darkness dances at the edges of my vision, but I close my eyes and count to ten, willing my panic attack to recede.Ugly memories torment me, clawing their way through the dark corners of my mind. My fingers clench into fists and I whisper into the silence;“More than twenty years have passed, Silvan. Everything is under control.” “Sir, did you hear me?” Michael repeats, obviously exasperated. “Your wound might get infected if you keep refusing medical help.”My eyes follow a tiny millipede as it makes its way across the slim

SILVAN“Sir, he’s here.”I look up, taking in the tall, burly man before me.Vincent Bianchi. Capo of the Cosa Nostra. His chilly green eyes run over my dirty cell, shimmering with disdain.I’m pretty sure the temperature dropped by a couple hundred degrees when he walked in. If I were a lesser man, I’d be trembling in my boots.If he’s surprised to find me behind bars, he doesn’t show it. As a crime lord, I’m sure nothing shocks him anymore.“Where are your guards?” I say by way of greeting.“No guards.” He grunts, rolling his shirt up his tree trunk sleeves. “Anyone dumb enough to try and attack me will find out exactly why I don’t walk around with protection.”And I don’t doubt that statement even for a second.Vincent did not earn his nickname, The Skull, by being a merciful killer. He chops off the heads of his enemies while they're still alive, then proceeds to carve off their skin, leaving their naked skull to be found by the cops.Till this day, no one knows what he does with

SILVANWith Vincent’s connections, it only takes us a few hours to gain entrance into Fisherman’s Wharf. “Why Fisherman’s Wharf?” I ask, fighting to stop my fever-wracked body from surrendering.“The Scorpions were primarily fishermen… until they discovered that crime paid better.”I scoff. No surprises there. Human beings have a track record of being hard to satisfy. Case in point, Astrid Machiavelli.I shouldn’t be thinking about her during a critical period such as this one, but I cannot help but wonder how she’s holding up. I’m sure she’s devasted that the girls are still missing. Does she have anyone to lean on, to comfort her until I bring them back? Without thinking, I pull out my phone and dial Michael’s number. He answers on the first ring.“Boss, where are you? Are you on your way to the hospital?”My eyes slam shut. I know he means well, but Michael is starting to become a pain in my ass.“No. I need to find my daughters first.”He lets out a growl. “Boss, I swear to Go