บททั้งหมดของ Never Forgive You, My Ex-Husband: บทที่ 31 - บทที่ 40

HANNAHI didn’t leave their side.Not when they were brought in coughing, their clothes reeking of smoke. Not when David’s people hooked them up to oxygen tanks and IVs in a quiet, white-walled room that looked more like a luxury clinic than anything else. Not when they drifted in and out of sleep, groaning with every shallow breath.David called it one of his “safehouses.” Safe. That word almost made me laugh. Nothing about tonight felt safe.The steady hiss of oxygen filled the space. My mom lay propped against crisp pillows, her skin pale, her lips cracked. My dad looked worse, gray and hollow, like the smoke had seeped into his bones. I held their hands like if I let go, they’d vanish.Relief hit first. Then the guilt.If I hadn’t gotten them out… if David hadn’t… they’d be gone.“Mom?” My voice cracked. I brushed damp hair off her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered open slowly, like every movement hurt.“Hannah…” Her voice was weak, scratchy.I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m h

DAVIDShe was starting to move like a true fighter.Not perfectly. But there was purpose in every strike. From the balcony, I leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching her move.She wasn’t polished. Half her strikes were sloppy, and her footing kept slipping. But there was intent behind every motion. Each punch landed harder than the last. Each dodge was less of a stumble and more of a choice.Elise barked corrections like she was leading boot camp, sharp enough to rattle the windows, but Hannah didn’t so much as flinch. She just kept moving, kept trying. Sweat rolled down her temple and stuck wisps of hair to her cheek, her messy knot already unraveling.She looked alive.Not like the ghost I pulled out of that psych ward.For a moment, I forgot why I came up here. I just watched. Her breathing was heavy, but steady. Her fists trembled from strain, but they stayed up. The kind of grit you can’t teach. You either have it, or you don’t.Then Elise swept her legs clean out from

HANNAHI’d never worn an earpiece before.It pinched the inside of my ear and made me feel like I had a fly buzzing around my skull. Elise had been brisk about it earlier when she ran me through instructions: “All black. Hair up. No weapons. You’re not here to fight—you’re here to see everything before it happens.”Right. Eyes open. Mouth shut. Blend in. Stay sharp.I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time before heading out. The suit fit better than I expected. Sleek, tailored, professional. I almost didn’t recognize myself. The old me would’ve thought I looked ridiculous, playing dress-up in someone else’s world. The new me—the one who survived smoke, betrayal, and being locked away—looked at this reflection and thought, Maybe I belong here. Or at least, maybe I could fake it well enough to get by.David’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “Ten minutes out. Everyone in position.”Everyone. That meant his people—trained, seasoned, probably ex-military or law enforcement. And

HANNAHIf someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be standing in Berlin wearing a silk dress with a forged title, I probably would’ve laughed. Or cried. Honestly, both.But here I was, in heels I barely trusted, a fake smile glued to my face, and a name tag that read H. Mendoza – Executive Liaison.I hated that it actually looked good on me. Like the name belonged. Like I belonged.David adjusted his cufflinks as we waited for the doors to open. He leaned down just enough for his voice to brush my ear.“You okay?”I tugged at the silk clinging to my ribs. “Ask me again when I haven’t sweated through this dress.”His mouth curved, that half-smirk he always wore when he caught me out. But he didn’t push. That was the thing with David. He had this radar for people’s limits. He knew when to dig and when to leave me the hell alone.The ballroom opened up like something out of a glossy magazine. Chandeliers throwing light across polished marble, champagne flutes catching sparks, men in

NICOI could’ve sworn I saw her.At first, I chalked it up to jet lag. I hadn’t slept more than four hours in the last two days, my head pounding from the flight, my nerves stretched thin. Easy explanation.But then I saw her again.Across the ballroom. Not for long. Just a glimpse, a flash of movement, the line of her jaw when she turned.Enough. Enough to knock the air right out of me.My jaw locked before I could stop it. I shoved the glass in my hand onto the nearest tray and ignored the fake laughter still buzzing in my ear from whatever conversation I’d been tolerating. I didn’t excuse myself. Didn’t bother. I was already moving.She turned the second I locked on her. Vanished behind one of the columns lining the room. But I’d seen her eyes.I knew those eyes.Hannah.It couldn’t be. Shouldn’t be.But I’d know her anywhere. Even dressed like that—too polished, too… composed. Not my Hannah. Not the Hannah who used to unravel for me with just one touch.What the hell was she doing