Divorced: Ex-wife Heiress Strikes Back의 모든 챕터: 챕터 221 - 챕터 230

CLARISSA.The silence that followed Freda’s suggestion felt heavier than any sound. It pressed against my chest until breathing became laborious and painful. I sat there with my hands folded over my stomach, as if I could shield my unborn child from the words still hanging in the air. A setup. A trap. A situation designed to force Bruce to kill, openly and undeniably.I wanted to reject it immediately. I should have. The old version of me would have stood up, furious, horrified, and ended the conversation right there. But that woman felt like someone I had buried along the way, another casualty of Bruce’s war.I looked at Devan first. His shoulders were slumped in a way I had never seen before, the sharp confidence that once defined him dulled by exhaustion and loss. His eyes met mine briefly, then drifted away, as if he couldn’t bear to let me see how close he was to breaking. Our accounts were bleeding. His companies, built over the years, were being dismantled in weeks. And no matt

CLARISSA.I had begun to move with an even more deliberate slowness, not just because of the weight of my belly, but because haste felt dangerous now. Every step echoed too loudly in my head, and every decision seemed capable of splintering the fragile future I carried inside me.My hands rested instinctively over the curve of my stomach as I crossed the wide hallway, feeling the faint, reassuring pressure of life beneath my palms. Round. Heavy. Real. The baby had become my anchor, the one thing that pulled me back whenever fear threatened to drown me. Each flutter, each subtle shift beneath my skin, reminded me that this war wasn’t abstract anymore. It had a heartbeat.The birth month loomed closer with every sunrise, and with it came a strange fluster of emotions; fierce anticipation braided tightly with gnawing dread. I imagined holding my child for the first time, memorizing the weight, the warmth, the proof that something good could still survive all this darkness. Then the anxie

MARCUS.I sat alone in my study, hands folded on the polished desk, staring at the faint reflection of myself in the dark glass. I looked older tonight, but the reflection looking back at me wasn’t just aged, but resolved. The kind of resolve that only comes when all other doors have slammed shut.Clarissa’s voice still echoed in my head.“It’s the only way, Dad.”She hadn’t cried or sounded shaky when she said it, and that was what terrified me. Her hands had rested on her belly as if instinctively shielding the life growing inside her, her spine straight, her eyes sharp with a determination I recognized too well.My own.“We’re not talking about revenge,” she had said quietly. “We’re talking about survival.”I had listened, paying attention to every word, every pause. I had watched Devan pace the room like a caged animal, his rage barely contained. I had watched Isabella sit unnaturally still, jaw set, eyes hard, too hard for someone who had already seen too much blood spilled in Br

DEVAN.Every system in the mansion seemed to hum all at once. Security monitors glowed in stacked rows along the wall, feeds refreshing every half second. Motion sensors pinged, cleared, pinged again. The generators pulsed beneath the floors like a second heartbeat; too loud, too alive, and too aware.Time was slipping through my fingers, and I could feel it in my chest, tight and unforgiving. Clarissa crossed the room slowly, one hand braced against the edge of the table, the other resting protectively on her belly. Her movements were careful now, measured. Every step looked like it cost her something.“Sit,” I said immediately, standing. “You’ve been on your feet too long.”She shot me a look. “I walked ten steps, Devan. Not a marathon.”“That’s not the point.”She sighed but let me pull out the chair. When she sat, I crouched in front of her without thinking, my palm resting lightly against her knee.“Talk to me,” I murmured. “Pain? Dizziness? Anything?”She softened then, her fing

CLARISSA.The pain I felt tore through me without warning, white-hot, vicious, starting low in my back and ripping forward like something alive. My breath left me in a sharp cry before I could stop it. My hands flew to my stomach, fingers digging into the taut curve of my belly as my body arched instinctively.“Clarissa?” Devan’s voice snapped tight with alarm.I couldn’t answer right away. The contraction wrapped around me, crushing, relentless, stealing the air from my lungs. My vision blurred at the edges. When it finally eased, I gasped, dragging oxygen back into my chest like I had nearly drowned.I looked up at him. His face had gone pale.“It’s time,” I whispered.He didn’t argue, didn’t bother to ask any questions. He was already moving.“Okay,” he said softly, gripping my hand with both of his. “Okay, I’ve got you. I’m right here.”Another contraction slammed into me before the echo of the first had faded.I cried out, my fingers tightening painfully around his. “Devan—”“I k