All Chapters of His Ex Mistress, His Enemy: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

208 Chapters

Halfway Up the Stairs

Zane POVThe back tire screeched against the pavement just as Ash swung the door open with one hand, no hesitation. He jumped out before I even killed the engine.“I’M HOOOME!” His voice echoed across the yard, bouncing off the walls of the two-story house with its wrought-iron gates and freshly trimmed vines.The cats showed up like a tactical unit. Marble first, followed by Pepper, elegant and suspicious, then Mama Mozzarella, who always looked like she’d just walked out of a Sicilian kitchen, and finally Spaghetti.Ash dropped his backpack on the ground, knelt, and disappeared beneath a storm of fur.I leaned against the car door, keys still in hand, eyes tracing the scene. My kid, in a yellow hoodie with a T-Rex wearing headphones, laughing with his mouth wide open, his face half-buried under all that stray-cat chaos.The front door cracked open. Lavender soap drifted out, soft and clean. Then that voice came lazily.“If he pees on the couch again, I’m sending all those cats to re

If the World Throws Me Out

I reopened the tab I’d saved last night and skimmed through my notes on white-collar criminal liability and attorney-client privilege boundaries. The kind of stuff I’d cursed for five straight years for keeping me awake at night.But tonight or technically, this afternoon...my anxious brain needed something to control. And the law, no matter how awful, always came with rules.Tilting my head, I scrolled through the e-book, trying to remember the last time I studied not to win an argument but just to learn.The room was quiet in a way that didn’t feel right. Silence wasn’t rare in this house, but this one felt like the echo of a bullet left in the wall.Maybe I should go back to school. Maybe I needed something new.My firm’s senior partner said they’d call once the gossip died down. But no one knew how long “dying down” lasted in the legal world. Three weeks? Three months? Or until I changed my face and name?I clicked to the next page, then stopped. Comparative Constitutional Law: An

I’ll Be Fine

The small pot hissed on the stove. Garlic and chili hit the oil, sending up a scent strong enough to wake the dead. I tossed in the chicken pieces, added a splash of soy sauce, then turned down the heat. The kitchen was small but enough. Enough to trick me into thinkingI still had control over something, if only rice and two kinds of side dishes.From down the hall came a brawl worthy of a soap opera.“Pepper’s not a hero! He just sat there when Mama Mozzy climbed the table!”“Because he’s a pacifist, Ashraf!”“He’s a loser, Maritza! He should’ve fought!”“I’d rather have a pacifist cat than a human child who can backflip off the closet!”I didn’t turn around. That was Maritza’s voice when she was in a full-on debate with a three-year-old whose logic rivaled a lawyer’s and whose energy rivaled a mercenary’s. Something crashed, followed by Ash’s dramatic wail.“I’ve been shot!!”“You got hit with a sandal, kid! Know the difference!”I bit the inside of my cheek to hold back a laugh. S

Don’t Test Me, Mr. Fertilizer

Plates and bowls were already lined up on the dining table, forks mysteriously missing as usual, and Ash’s favorite plastic cup with the tow truck decal sat waiting. Steam rose from the warm rice, filling the air with that strange, homey smell that made the house feel like an actual place to live instead of a war zone with rent.Ash sat down. For half a second. Then stood up. Then sat again. Then, like a tiny creature powered by endless batteries, bolted down the hallway with a shout that could’ve triggered a fire drill.“I’m sleeping in Mami’s room tonight! With Papi!”A curse came from Maritza in the kitchen, probably because her salad just got hit with triple the dressing. Zane bit back a laugh, shot me a look, and leaned against the wall like he wasn’t the root of every hormonal disaster in this house.“Oh?” His voice was low, almost a whisper that slid between the sounds. “The three of us? You sure that’s wise, Dianna? You might get... nostalgic.”A kitchen rag flew through the a

Cool Mami, Hot Papi, and Tiny Tyrants

Morning showed no mercy. It was seven-thirty, and I was already in the kitchen, stirring pancake batter with one hand and wrapping fruit slices with the other.I hadn’t even washed my face. My hair was twisted up with a nail clipper because my hair tie had gone missing. Alexa screamed from the counter because Maritza had told her to play salsa, but the damn digital assistant insisted on reading a weather report from Bogotá.“I said salsa, not a tropical storm, perra!”Something crashed. I didn’t look and I didn’t care.A loud bang came from the playroom. I sighed. “If you break that shelf again, breakfast for the next week will be water and rice!”“Argh... MAMII!” Ash’s voice cracked with frustration. “I DON’T WANT THESE SHOES! MY FEET ARE STUCK! WHY DO SHOES HAVE DEAD ENDS?!”“Because you shoved two socks on one foot, buddy,” Zane said calmly somewhere nearby.“But the shoes are evil! Like... monsters disguised as Vans!”I sighed again. The pancakes burned a little. Fantastic.Zane w

The Laws of Us

The car glided down the main road, the radio playing jazz that felt too relaxed for my mood that morning. Maritza, pink crossbody bag and battle-ready face, had already gone into the school with Ash, joining the other babysitters who looked more like a special ops unit with luxury strollers and discreet spy cams in their purses. If they handed out Oscars for Best Supporting Role in Protecting a Billionaire Kid, Maritza would take one home every year.I sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, hoodie up, trying to look like a failed contestant on a reality show. Zane drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on his thigh, his fingers tapping the rhythm of the song. He slicked his hair back, but a few rebellious strands fell across his forehead with that annoyingly casual, lethal movement.I exhaled and opened my mouth without turning to him. “If the paparazzi catch us again, I’m going viral with a headline like ‘Scandal Lawyer Caught Kissing Prince Romano.’” I drew a breath. “Thi

Red at the End of the Morning

Nine a.m., and Zane’s car slid to a stop in front of my house. I unbuckled my seatbelt, slung my bag over my shoulder, and looked at the man behind the wheel, still too good-looking for this hour. His hair was damp from washing his face at the café earlier, and a lazy grin hovered at the corner of his mouth.“Go,” I muttered. “Before I change my mind and make you work in the backyard as my gardener.”“Fine,” he said, handing me the leftover coffee he’d somehow saved. “As long as I get the shirtless privilege.”I scoffed. “Keep dreaming.”He rolled the window down as I stepped out. “You realize, Di, if I go shirtless, the entire neighborhood might burst into flames.”I didn’t look back. “I’ll call the fire department in advance.”The gate shut behind me, and the house welcomed me with that familiar worn-out warmth I’d grown too used to. It wasn’t a mansion, but it had been a battlefield, an amusement park, a courtroom, and an emotional rehab center these past three months.Now it was q

Dead Line, Red Lip

I grabbed my phone off the kitchen counter, opened ERICK’s contact, and hit the call button with a finger still slick with oil. Not the time to care about fingerprints on glass.Ring one.Two.Three.And—“The number you’ve reached is currently unavai—”I hung up before the operator’s voice could finish spreading rejection through my nervous system.Redial. Wait.Still dead.Once more, this time with more bite in my pulse. Nothing. Straight to voicemail.I tossed the phone onto the couch. Sat down at the dining table, staring at the pile of photo scraps and that blood-red lipstick sitting in the middle of a tablecloth dusted with cat food crumbs. What kind of twisted performance was Erick directing?I opened WhatsApp, scrolled down to the group chat labeled WOMEN WHO SURVIVED MEN & MARGARITA. Icon: cocktail glass, crying-laughing emoji, the ones I used too often to cover up real trauma.I typed fast:[DIANNA]Erick just sent me red lipstick and shredded photos of me, Zane, and Ash fro

Where Home Ends

The front door unlocked with its usual click, followed by the sound of tiny feet padding across the floor.“I’m home!” Ash announced from the hallway like he’d just won an election and the nation needed to know.I hadn’t even stood up from the dining chair when Maritza appeared behind him, carrying a school bag that looked way too expensive for a three-year-old. And right behind them, of course...Zane. Black shirt, sunglasses hooked on his collar, hair a little messy, that half-lazy smile that could make anyone forget he’d just spent hours charming CEOs of the capitalist universe.He groaned. “I’m starving.”I pointed at the table, deadpan. “Food’s still warm. Serve yourself. You’re not a guest.”Without shame, he headed straight for the kitchen, flipped open the rice cooker, and started piling rice like a man escaping a diet prison.Ash grinned at me, his face lit up. I crouched and opened my arms. He rocketed into my lap.“Bathroom,” I whispered, kissing his cheek that smelled like

Silent Floor

The elevator in Erick’s penthouse moved like it hated me. Every second stretched, deliberate, almost smug.“If this thing could talk,” I muttered, glaring at the red digital numbers, “it’d probably join the long list of bastards trying to ruin my day.”The doors slid open with a soft hum. The hallway looked the same as the last time I was here. Clean, sterile, and expensive. The kind of luxury that tried too hard to hide how emotionally unstable its owner really was.I stopped at his door. Pressed the bell once.Twice.Three times.Nothing. No footsteps. No curse words about being woken up at eight in the morning.Silence.I squinted at the keypad beside the door. My fingers tapped the code I’d always used. His first birthday date, followed by the so-called lucky number that only ever brought him bad luck, mainly in the form of me.Beep. Incorrect.Okay. Maybe I hit the wrong button. Tried again.Beep.I stared at the screen. “You changed the code, Ric?” I whispered to the door. “Afte

...

11 12 13 14 15

...

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP