All Chapters of Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

HANNAHThe incense clung to my throat like a reminder: don’t breathe too easily in this house of God. The memorial mass droned on, Father Matteo’s Latin a backdrop to the real theater playing out in the pews. Candles flickered, cameras blinked, and Veronica sat three places away from me, spine as rigid as marble, pearls glowing in the candlelight.I’d been waiting for this.She thought today was about rewriting the Mancini tragedy into something clean, something polished. But every hymn, every press camera, every carefully folded hand was another opportunity to sharpen my blade.Nico’s grip on my hand had been bruising since the homily started. I didn’t let him see me wince. The more docile I looked, the more careless Veronica became. She believed composure meant surrender. She’d learn soon enough it meant calculation.**********************************During the offertory, when the congregation stood and the shuffle of bodies filled the nave, I leaned slightly toward her. Just enough

HANNAHThe house smelled like lilies again. Always lilies. They used to mean celebration. Now they just smelled like bleach, like someone scrubbing too hard at a stain that would never come out.I sat at the vanity, necklace clasp biting into the back of my neck, and watched myself in the mirror. My reflection looked polished. Composed. Exactly what Veronica always demanded. But under the silk and emerald, my pulse throbbed like a warning drum.The envelope lay open on the vanity. The papers inside weren’t mine anymore. They belonged to the world.Signatures. Payments. A letterhead from a clinic Veronica swore she never touched. Her name buried in the margins of orders that shaped my body like property. Fertility “treatments” that were never mine to choose. Records of drugs designed to bend me into something useful, not heal me.I slid the papers back in, folded them once, and placed them in the manila envelope. My phone buzzed once—confirmation.The leak was already in motion.******

HANNAHBy the time night came, I felt like the walls of the safehouse were pressing against my ribs.The tabloids hadn’t stopped since morning. Headlines screamed Hannah Mancini reckless, Hannah Mancini unstable, Hannah Mancini to blame. Sydney’s fingerprints were all over it. I could practically hear her laugh in every poisonous caption, every “unnamed source.”David and Elise had been fielding calls all day, trying to plug leaks that had already drowned half the city. Veronica, predictably, said nothing. Nico, unbelievably, believed nothing—at least nothing against me. But it was only a matter of time before the lies hardened into something that looked like truth.I held it together through the strategy sessions, through the whispers of damage control, through Elise’s sharp instructions to keep my head down. But when the house finally went quiet, when the clock ticked past midnight and my body stopped performing strength, I felt it. The collapse.David found me on the balcony, clutch

NICOThe whiskey glass shattered before I even realized I’d thrown it. Amber splashed up the wall, streaking down the wallpaper like blood. The TV kept talking anyway—smug anchors in crisp suits, repeating my family’s name like it was dirt under their nails.Veronica Mancini… implicated in fertility tampering… medical fraud… signatures authenticated.My mother’s face stared back at me from the news chyron, pearls around her throat like a noose. She looked composed in the photo they used—stiff-backed, perfect smile. But the words crawling beneath her image gutted everything she’d spent a lifetime polishing.“She was supposed to protect us,” I muttered. My voice bounced off the paneled walls, hollow and ugly. I said it again, louder. “She was supposed to protect us!”Shards glimmered on the carpet, catching the lamplight. I kicked through them, scattering glass until one sharp piece bit into my foot. Pain flared, but it felt almost good. At least it was mine.Alvarez was standing in the

SYDNEYThe house didn’t feel like a fortress anymore. It felt like a ruin pretending not to be—marble still shining, chandeliers still blazing, but the rot was in the air. Staff whispered when they thought doors were closed. Reporters lurked at the gate with questions about Veronica, about the scandal, about the family that had once seemed untouchable.And me? I could feel the cracks spreading under my feet.Veronica had been my shield. She always knew where to stand, how to sharpen her words into knives that cut Hannah down before anyone noticed she was bleeding. But now Veronica’s face was on every screen, her name crawling across tickers as if disgrace was a headline you could wear.She wasn’t coming back from it.Which meant I was alone.**********************************I watched Nico pace the study that morning, glass in his hand, muttering at the shelves as if the books could answer him. He looked terrible—red-rimmed eyes, hair uncombed, shirt half-open. A man unraveling.For a