Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE WOMAN WHO CAME BACK: Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

The phone lay on the counter like a shard of glass, still burning in my hand though the line had been dead for minutes. My chest felt caved in, lungs pulling air that refused to fill me. He knew. Kieran always knew. The sound of Charles rinsing his plate in the sink pulled me back. He was careful about the dishes, always too careful, like he understood that breaking one would break something in me too. “I’ve got school,” he said, tugging his bag over his shoulder. His voice was calm, ordinary, but his eyes kept flicking to me. “I’ll walk you,” I said. “You don’t have to.” “I want to.” My voice was sharper than I meant. His brow wrinkled but he didn’t argue. He never argues—another habit I hate because it feels like he’s already learned silence is safer than speaking. We stepped into the wet morning. The city was still half-asleep, gutters coughing rain, buses groaning past with faces pressed to fogged windows. Charles stayed close, his hand brushing mine once before pulling away

The invitation had arrived in a gilded envelope, heavy stock, the kind that practically dripped with money.Black Enterprises Annual Winter Gala.I stared at it for a long time, the paper too smooth between my fingers. A few years ago, this event would have been mine to host. My smile would’ve been on the front page of every magazine, my gown dissected by stylists, my hand resting lightly on Kieran’s arm.Now, it was a battlefield.“Are you going?” James asked that afternoon, leaning against the kitchen counter of my penthouse. He looked too casual in his open-collared shirt, but his eyes—sharp, weighing—were anything but relaxed.“I don’t have a choice,” I muttered. “They’ll all be there. Investors, board members, vultures waiting to see if I flinch. If I stay away, Lyana wins before the night even starts.”James pushed his hands into his pockets. “Then don’t flinch. And don’t drink their poison either. She’ll come armed, Irene. Expect that.”I knew what he meant. Lyana.The very tho

The knock on her door came late, a hollow sound that seemed to rattle through every corner of Irene’s penthouse. She froze, her back stiffening against the leather of her chair. The city glittered outside, its lights scattered like broken glass, but inside the silence was thick enough to choke her.Her first thought was James. He had a habit of showing up unannounced when she least wanted to see him, carrying warnings she wasn’t ready to hear. Or maybe one of her assistants, dropping off a stack of papers she didn’t care to read.But the moment the handle turned, her pulse knew better.The figure who stepped through the door wasn’t James.It was Jaxon.The air left her lungs all at once.He stood in the doorway like a shadow she’d tried to outrun for years. Taller now, broader, with the kind of presence that swallowed a room whole. The years had carved into him, sharpened his edges, but his smirk was exactly the same—lazy, confident, cruel.“Hello, Irene.” His voice was low, roughened

Irene remained pressed against the edge of her desk, heart hammering in her chest, as though the sound alone could give away Charles’s location. The thought of him—small, trusting, utterly unaware of the storm swirling just beyond his paper-strewn walls—made her stomach twist. Every breath felt heavy, like it carried the weight of a secret too large to hold. James shifted uneasily behind her. His sharp eyes didn’t waver from hers, but there was a tension in his shoulders she hadn’t noticed before. “You okay?” he asked cautiously. “I’m… fine,” Irene lied, straightening her back with a faint click of her spine. She forced her hands to calm, smoothing them over the polished surface of the desk. “It’s just… a lot to process.” “A lot?” James echoed, voice low. “Irene, he saw him. Charles. And you know Jaxon Black. He doesn’t just see—he observes. He stores. He waits.” She swallowed hard, jaw tight. “I know,” she admitted, almost bitterly. “And I also know there’s nothing I can do abou

Kieran’s office was unusually quiet that morning, the steady hum of the city muffled by thick glass windows. He had barely settled into his chair when his assistant slipped in, dropping a cream-colored envelope onto his desk.“It was delivered by courier, sir,” she said before excusing herself.Kieran picked it up, the bold lettering catching his attention: Invitation to the Annual Charity Showcase. No sender’s name was listed, only a venue and time. He frowned. He had attended dozens of charity events before, but something about this felt…different. Still, habit guided him; he loosened his tie, grabbed his coat, and decided to go.It wasn’t until he arrived at the school grounds—a modest, ivy-framed building tucked into a quiet neighborhood—that he realized this was no ordinary gala. Children ran across the courtyard in neat uniforms, clutching handmade posters and decorations. Parents milled about, carrying trays of baked goods, their voices a cheerful hum.Kieran hesitated at the g