Lahat ng Kabanata ng Divorced My Husband And Found Love: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

Third person povThree years had passed in what felt like a blink. The rhythm of the Knight household had changed, not quieter but fuller, steadier, filled with even more laughter than had always been there.Delilah’s restaurant had blossomed into more than she ever dared to imagine. What began as a single dining space now had a second location across the city, bustling each night with reservations booked weeks in advance. Magazines called her a rising culinary star, critics praised her daring yet comforting menus, and patrons whispered her name with admiration. Her face graced the front pages of magazines, her story was one of quiet determination, resilience, unwavering passion and radiant success. For once, she wasn’t just surviving—she was building.Across the city, Calix’s empire was stronger than ever. His business acumen continued to be a force to be reckoned with, his strategic mind securing new ventures and expanding his reach into new markets. But it was his public devotion t

Naomi's povI slammed the study door so hard behind me that it rattled in its frame. Jace didn’t even flinch when I had stormed past him—of course he didn’t. The guy looked like he was carved out of stone, standing like some statue Dad had ordered from one of those intimidating Greek museums, arms folded, jaw locked, pretending like he didn’t notice the way my whole body practically vibrated with rage as I had brushed past him.I didn’t care though. If Dad wanted to assign me a babysitter, fine, but I wasn’t about to make it easy.I stormed into my room, shut the door hard enough to make the frame creak, and pressed my forehead against the wood. My chest was tight, my throat even tighter, and my mind screamed with a thousand more arguments I hadn’t gotten to throw at Dad. But none of it mattered to him. His solution was always the same. More control. More rules. More cages dressed up like castles.I kicked off my furry slippers and threw them at the foot of my bed. I tossed my phone a

Naomi’s povShe grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me towards the dance floor. The music was a living, breathing entity, and I let it take over, the beat a hypnotic rhythm that commanded my body to move. I swayed my hips, my arms in the air, my head thrown back in a fit of pure, unadulterated joy. For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t Naomi, the daughter of a powerful man. I was just Naomi, a girl dancing with her friends in a dark, sweaty club.We danced for what felt like hours, a blur of flashing lights and pounding music. Some guy with a nose ring tugged Sarah away from us, and she went without hesitation, laughing over her shoulder. A tall stranger grabbed Anna’s hand, and Priscilla disappeared with a boy in a leather jacket. Suddenly, I was left alone, swaying slightly, clutching my empty glass.A hand landed on my arm, and I turned to see a man, his face a little too close, his smile a little too wide. He was older than me—at least late twenties or e

Naomi’s POV The rest of the ride was silent. When we pulled up to the house, the grand white mansion looming in the dark, I felt a familiar sense of dread. The front door opened before we even reached the porch, and my father stood there, his face a mask of worry and anger. “Naomi! Where the hell have you been? Your mother and I have been calling your phone for hours!” I flinched, but the anger in his voice was familiar. I had heard it a hundred times. I walked past him, my head held high, trying to project a defiance I didn’t quite feel. “I was out,” I said, my voice flat. “Out? Out where? With who?” he boomed, his voice a low, furious rumble. “Do you have any idea how much you scared us? Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?” “I'm fine, Dad,” I said, turning to face him. “I'm not a child. I'm an adult. I can go out with my friends.” “An adult?” he scoffed, his eyes blazing with fury. “An adult doesn't sneak out of the house like a rebellious teenager. An adult

Naomi’s POV The weekend came too fast, like someone had hit fast-forward on my life just to watch me suffer and squirm. By Saturday morning, my final dress fitting was completed and by evening, I was zipped, tucked, painted, and perched like some porcelain figurine in the back of one of Dad’s cars. The shimmering silver couture dress Mum had picked out clung to my body like a second skin. It was a beautiful dress, I couldn’t deny it. But it felt less like something I chose and more like a uniform I was told to wear. Every bead, every sequin only made me feel like a doll. A very expensive, breakable doll. “Oh, dear, you look… breathtaking,” Mum said as she adjusted a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Absolutely perfect.” The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the hotel’s glittering entrance. Cameras lined the velvet ropes, already flashing as the chauffeur opened the door. And they came for me the moment I stepped out of the black car, my heels clicking on the marb