All Chapters of Divorced My Husband And Found Love: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Naomi's povOne evening, my phone buzzed with a message that made my heart skip. The message arrived at 8:07 pm, just as I was pretending to go over my school notes.Jace: Be ready at nine. Don’t tell anyone.That was it. No emoji, no explanation. My pulse immediately leaped into a frantic thump, betraying my composure. I stared at it for a full minute before typing back.Me: You realize you’re literally supposed to stop people from sneaking out, right?He replied almost instantly.Jace: And yet here I am, making an exception.I bit back a smile. Dangerous, stupid, exhilarating. That was what this was. And I couldn’t say no.Me: Where are we going?Jace: Trust me.I didn’t bother to be cautious. If Jace was asking me to sneak out, then he would have either disabled the cameras or created a way out, and the other guards wouldn’t notice a thing. I just freshened up, changed—a pair of dark jeans, a soft, oversized sweater—and slid my feet into my favorite and comfy leather boots while wa

Naomi's povThe cold was finally starting to creep in as the night air grew cooler. Yet neither of us made a move to leave. I pulled Jace’s jacket tighter around my shoulders, the fabric still warm from him. His scent wrapped around me until I forgot the rest of the world existed. The dim, orange glow of a single rooftop beacon from afar, meant to illuminate the hill and its surroundings, only served to cocoon us further in a bubble of our own.We were sitting side by side, our knees almost touching. It was the best night I had had in a while. The night hummed around us, the city below alive. It should have been easy, being quiet with him. But the question I’d been swallowing for weeks finally pushed its way out.I turned my head slowly, resting my cheek against the coarse wool of his shoulder.“Tell me,” I whispered, not looking up. The words were small, lost easily to the wind, but I knew he heard every single one. “Do you regret it?” I asked.His brow furrowed. “Regret what?”“Tell

Naomi's povThe drive back home felt like something out of a dream I didn’t want to wake from. The night air was cool through the half-open window, brushing against my cheek as I sneaked glances at Jace. His hand alternated between resting casually on the gearshift and resting on my thigh, and every now and then, our fingers almost touch. Almost.The silence between us was charged with a dangerous, exhilarating energy. I heard the low rumble of the engine as the car slowed, pulling to a stop just outside the iron gates of the mansion’s back gate.“Guess this is where you sneak back into your castle, princess,” he teased, though his voice was softer than usual.I grinned, my pulse fluttering. “And you’re my getaway driver.” I whispered, turning in the leather seat to face him. The dashboard lights cast faint shadows across the sharp angles of his jaw, softening the usually stern set of his mouth.Jace laughed quietly, turning off the ignition. “I could get fired for this, you know.”“Y

Jace's povIt’d been three days since that dinner. Three days since Naomi sat across from me in that dim restaurant, smiling like she didn’t have the world’s most watchful father.We’d found a rhythm since then—if one could call something so fragile a rhythm. Stolen glances across crowded rooms. Brushed hands when I opened a door for her. A quiet “hi” that meant a thousand things. It was dangerous, stupid, reckless… but I couldn’t stop.Every morning, I told myself I’d keep my distance. By night, I’d retire to my room, thinking about how much I failed.Today was no different.I was standing by the SUV outside the main entrance waiting to take her to school, sunglasses on, pretending not to look at her. But she knew. She always knew.When she walked past me, her fingers grazed mine for half a second—so light I could convince myself it didn’t happen. But I know it did.“Morning,” she said under her breath.“Morning, Naomi,” I replied in the same tone.Her lips twitched, trying and faili

Naomi's povI knew something was off the moment Jace’s texts became one-word replies. Three days in a row, my phone buzzed with nothing more than “k”, “sure” or “ok”, and I could feel the shift before I even saw him. Something about him felt… rehearsed. His smiles became too polite. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Not once.I tried to tell myself I was imagining it. Maybe he was just stressed with work. Maybe he was tired. But deep down, I knew better. I knew the difference between professional stress and emotional withdrawal.The second day was worse. When he drove me home from the library—one of our few remaining stolen moments—the air in the car was suddenly thin. He didn't take the long route which allowed us to spend more time with each other and even exchange quick, heated kisses. He drove straight, his hands gripping the steering wheel tight, shoulders rigid. He didn't even look at me in the rearview mirror, which was usually his subtle way of communicating affection.By the third da