Semua Bab Divorce and Regret: Chasing My Famous Lawyer Ex-Wife: Bab 161 - Bab 170

Nathan’s POVThe road stretched ahead of us, gray and unforgiving, the windshield streaked with late-afternoon glare. I drove faster than necessary, knuckles tight on the wheel, jaw clenched so hard it ached.I should’ve been angry.Correction—I was angry.At her timing. At her certainty. At the way she stepped in without asking and said exactly what needed to be said.That was the problem.She was right.I replayed the meeting in my head—the look on Brown’s face, the way the leverage slipped the second Carmilla laid out the numbers. The extension. The breathing room. The deal that would’ve gone sideways if I’d pushed one inch further.“You blindsided me,” I muttered again, more to myself than to her.She didn’t answer this time. She sat beside me, composed, eyes forward, like she hadn’t just walked into my line of fire and redirected it.I hated how steady she was.I hated that I needed it.The silence pressed in. I could hear the soft click of her seatbelt, the faint rustle of paper

Brandon’s POVI checked my watch for the third time in under a minute.Plenty of time.That was what I kept telling myself as I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair and headed toward the door. Nervous energy buzzed through me—not the kind I got before negotiations or board meetings, but something sharper. Personal.I was finally going to meet her.The ex-wife I’d signed papers for but never really known.Maybe this would finally put an end to it. Or maybe it would make things worse.My phone rang just as my hand closed around the doorknob.I sighed and answered. “Brandon York.”“Mr. York, this is Clerk Alvarez from the family court,” a woman said briskly. “I’m calling regarding a minor issue with your finalized divorce paperwork.”I stopped short. “That was settled months ago.”“Yes, sir, it was,” she said. “This is procedural. We just need your confirmation before we release any related documents.”I glanced at my watch. “What kind of issue?”“There’s a discrepancy in how you

Brandon’s POVI was one street away.One.Then everything stopped.Cars jammed up ahead, horns blaring, people leaning out their windows, shouting. I leaned forward in my seat, trying to see past the line of stalled vehicles—and that’s when I saw it.Two men. Out of their cars. Chest to chest.“Unbelievable,” I muttered.One of them shoved the other. Someone screamed. A crowd began to form, phones already out, capturing every second like this was entertainment instead of a disaster waiting to happen.I checked my watch.Fifteen minutes late.My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.“Move,” I snapped uselessly, tapping the steering wheel. “Come on.”Nothing moved.The argument escalated fast—fists raised, voices hoarse with rage. A third man tried to intervene and got shoved aside for his trouble. Traffic was completely deadlocked now.That was it.I threw the car into park.“What are you doing?” the driver behind me yelled.“I’m done waiting,” I shot back, already yanking the door open.I did

Emma’s POVOut of all the villas on this island, out of all the logistical miracles I’d managed to pull off for this trip, I still had to share one more night with Lucas.I stood in the middle of the villa as the lights flickered once—twice—and then died completely.“Oh. You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered.The air-conditioning cut out with a sad little wheeze, and within seconds the place transformed into a humid, suffocating box. The only light came from a few emergency candles the staff had dropped off earlier, their flames casting long, flickering shadows across the walls.Somewhere behind me, Lucas let out a low whistle.“Well,” he said lightly, tossing his phone onto the bed, “this is… intimate.”I shot him a look. “Don’t.”He grinned, completely unapologetic, already loosening his collar like the heat didn’t bother him at all. A battery-powered fan sat on the nightstand, humming weakly, stirring the air just enough to remind us how useless it was.Lucas flopped onto the be

Brandon’s POVI stayed longer than I should have.The bar filled up even more as the night went on, the energy loosening, laughter spilling freely now that the album launch had officially crossed into celebration.The singer—Lila, her name was—stepped off the small stage to a ripple of applause. She moved with the easy confidence of someone who knew she’d nailed it. Talent like that did things to a room.She headed straight for the bar.Straight for Matthew.“Well?” she asked, leaning an elbow on the counter beside him, smile bright but curious. “Did I pass?”Matthew laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You crushed it.”Her grin widened. “I knew you’d say that.”I watched the exchange, the way she angled her body toward him without hesitation, how Matthew—usually guarded, usually measured—looked slightly off-balance in her presence. Interested, whether he wanted to admit it or not.“Lila,” Matthew said, turning to me, “this is Brandon. Owner of the building. Also the reason I could