บททั้งหมดของ The EX-Wife Returns : บทที่ 231 - บทที่ 240

Calla stared at Vincenzo as he stood in the middle of the road, his hands still raised in mock surrender. Her eyes narrowed, but she kept her voice calm and steady. "Lower your weapons. I don't consider him a threat." she commanded her guards without looking away from Vincenzo. The guards hesitated for only a second before obeying, though they kept their hands near their weapons, ready to act if needed. Vincenzo dropped his hands and walked slowly toward Calla, a smug smile playing on his lips. His eyes dropped to her swollen stomach, and he let out a low chuckle. "What's with you both being pregnant?" he asked, shaking his head in fake wonder. "You and Vanessa... the only difference is you're due very soon." He laughed louder now, the sound harsh in the quiet street. "Don't tell me you're both pregnant for my brother. That would be quite the family drama, wouldn't it?" Calla's smile was cold and sharp as broken glass. "Don't worry, your brother knows how to satisfy a woman prope

Calla's sleek black car rolled smoothly up the long, tree-lined driveway leading to Killian's grand mansion. The evening sky was turning a deep purple, and lights were beginning to glow in the mansion's many windows. Neva stood waiting at the top of the stone steps, her arms crossed and her face set in a grim expression. As Calla stepped out of the car, her friend immediately moved to her side, falling into step beside her as they climbed the steps together. "The hidden cameras are all in place and working perfectly," Neva murmured quietly as they walked through the massive front doors into the grand entrance hall. "Mateo has been watching the security feeds all afternoon. Now we just need our little spy to take the bait we're about to offer." Calla nodded slowly, her sharp eyes carefully scanning the various staff members moving through the entrance hall. Some were dusting, others were arranging flowers, all going about their normal duties. "Where is Killian right now?" she asked i

Lena stumbled slowly to her feet, brushing dirt and gravel from her ruined clothes. She looked all around her, utterly alone in the silent night. Then, a sly, triumphant smile suddenly broke through her fading tears. She reached carefully into her dress pocket and pulled out a small, sleek phone she had managed to hide. Her fingers trembled with excitement and nervous energy as she quickly dialed a number she knew by heart. The line rang only twice before a familiar voice answered. "Boss. Vincenzo?" she sobbed into the phone, her voice a masterpiece of fake distress and pain. "Oh, Vincenzo, it was just terrible! They caught me! They hurt me so badly! They threw me out on the side of the road like I was nothing but trash!" She poured out a long stream of dramatic lies, wildly exaggerating her ordeal, carefully painting herself as a brave, suffering martyr for his important cause. He told her firmly to stay right where she was and not to move. For what felt like nearly an hour,

Back at the mansion, the tension of the evening began to melt away. The staff had been dismissed, the front door locked, and an uneasy quiet settled over the grand house. Calla stood by the study window, watching the moonlight paint silver stripes across the manicured lawns. Killian came up behind her, his presence a warm, solid comfort. He rested his hands gently on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing slow circles into the tight muscles there. “You were brilliant tonight,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble near her ear. Calla leaned back against him, letting her eyes fall closed. “Do you think he believed it?” “The information was too shocking not to,” Killian said, a note of grim satisfaction in his tone. “The idea that you’re the Ricardo’s partner… it’s so insane, he’ll have to accept it as truth. No one would make that up.” He turned her slowly in his arms until she was facing him. The fierce pride in his eyes made her breath catch. “You played him perfectly.” The ad

Later, wrapped in thick, soft towels, Calla leaned against the bathroom counter, watching Killian shave. A comfortable, drowsy silence filled the room, broken only by the soft scrape of the razor. Then, a wave passed over Killian's face in the mirror. His hands stilled. "Today is Friday," he said, his voice losing its morning softness. The warmth and safety of the morning seemed to shrink back. Calla met his gaze in the reflection. The memory of the invitation, of the mysterious "Viper," settled between them like a sudden chill. "I know," Calla replied, her own voice quiet. She placed a hand on her stomach, a protective gesture. "Tonight." He rinsed his face and turned to her, his expression now all hard edges and grim determination. He cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek, but the touch was different now. It was a promise of protection, a vow of battle. "Whatever game she wants to play," Killian said, his voice low and deadly serious. "We end it tonight. For good." Ca