All Chapters of Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

BRUCE. My instincts didn’t just rise the moment the ground convulsed under my feet, it detonated. The tremor shot up my legs, rattling through my bones, and before thought could even form, I lunged.Antonio barely had time to turn. I tackled him with the full weight of a man's hours of unresolved fury. We slammed into the metal flooring, dust exploding around us in a choking cloud. The ceiling screamed overhead, sheets of steel peeling away like paper. But I didn’t hear any of it. All I heard was Antonio’s breath hitching beneath me, the small, sharp sounds of a man losing control for the first time.I drove my elbow into Antonio’s ribs, pinning him by sheer force, my teeth gritted so hard that pain shot up my jaw. This wasn't me trying to be strategic; it was something that lived deeper than words, the impulse to end the threat before it could rise again.Antonio writhed, grabbing for leverage, but I slammed him back down, our bodies rolling through debris that cut into my skin.“St

CLARISSA.We stumbled out of the collapsing building like a procession of half-formed ghosts, moving on instinct rather than strength. It felt as if we had been spit out rather than rescued, thrown from the darkness into a world too bright, too open. Smoke clung to my clothes like a second skin, filling my lungs even as I gasped for fresh air. Dust coated my tongue, turning every swallow into a scrape as my ears rang with the echo of crumbling steel and snapping concrete.My legs wobbled beneath me, rubbery and trembling, but I forced myself to turn back toward the grotesque pile that used to be a building; a structure that had swallowed hours of our lives little by little and then, in its final act, tried to swallow us whole. My eyes darted from slab to slab, searching, refusing to accept the truth forming at the edges of her mind.Antonio wasn’t there. There was no single silhouette of him, not even a shadow pinned beneath the ruin. All I could see was j

CLARISSA.I sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees, staring at the folded note resting on my palms. It was small, crisp, clean, and out of place here, as if it had slipped in from a world where things still made sense. But nothing made sense anymore. Not the trembling ruin we had climbed out of. Not Isabella’s disappearance. Not Antonio’s vanishing act and certainly not the quiet, calculated message someone had managed to slide under my door.I stared at the paper in my hands. It was a set of coordinates and a time with no name and no symbol, not even a smudge of a fingerprint. I traced the numbers like they were a lifeline or a threat, I still wasn’t sure which. My first thought, the one that clawed its way to the surface before I could swallow it down, was Isabella. If anyone could communicate from the other side of a trap, it was her. If anyone would risk sending something this precise, this controlled, it had to be her. But hope was dan

ISABELLA.My mind didn’t feel like my own anymore. It felt borrowed and rearranged, like someone had taken every thought I trusted and placed it back slightly out of alignment. The room around me pulsed with low light and muted sound, screens lining the walls in a curved semicircle that escaped feeling theoretical at best. Antonio never needed chains. He preferred architecture, space itself bent to his will.The images changed constantly: Clarissa stumbling through dust, coughing, eyes wild but focused; Devan moving with blood on his knuckles, his rage and instinct fused into something dangerous; Bruce dragging Freda through shadows, his jaw locked so tight it looked painful and my father half-conscious, guilt bleeding out of him slower than the wound in his shoulder.

CLARISSA.Machines hummed softly in the half-dark, steady and indifferent, as if nothing in the world had changed. Footsteps passed beyond the door, rubber soles whispering against tile, nurses trading shifts, lives continuing in neat rotations. Somewhere far off, a siren rose and faded, the sound stretching thin before dissolving.I lay still, staring at the ceiling, my body heavy with that strange hospital safety: clean sheets, taped wires, plastic rails meant to keep me from falling out of bed or running too far. Nothing hurt the way it should have. I felt no sharp agony, no screaming nerves, no punishment equal to what I remembered.That almost scared me more than the pain ever could have.My mind refused order, my thoughts colliding against each other in my head. Antonio’s stillness came first; seated, composed, like a god who never needed to move because the world shifted itself around him. I thought of the way his presence had filled the room