All Chapters of Dear Husband my ex is back : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

{A BAR}The bar was dim, warm, buzzing with soft music and the low murmur of people. Gael was there with George, he just got back from a business trip and never expected that a lot would have happened in his absence.He had to follow George, since he insisted they had to talk.George sat across him, his fingers wrapped tightly around a bottle. His eyes were red, wet and filled with emotions. He looked like a man trying to pick up the pieces of a heart he never expected to break.And Gael could only watch him."She’s the one who taught me how to love properly and… as sick as it sounds, she’s my one true love!" George's words coming out in uneven bursts, like the confession itself hurt more than the alcohol burning down his throat.Gael took a deep breath and stared at him."Man, I understand," he said calmly, though his patience was fading, he wanted to drag him out of the bar as soon as possible.“But you have to pull yourself together. She needs you, right now."George blinked at hi

Franklin didn’t move for about thirty minutes after Thalia stormed out of his office. The echo of the door slamming shut lingered in the air like a punch that hadn’t stopped landing. Her scent, her vanilla scent, still clung to the room. His jaw flexed as he stared at the floor, his breaths shaky, fighting the urge to run after her despite knowing she would only look at him with the same coldness she carried when she finally accepted that he had broken her, again and again.He dragged his fingers through his hair and forced a breath down his throat, but before he could gather himself, his lawyer stepped out of the small room where he’d been hiding like a coward listening to the whole confrontation.“She’s really taking it to court,” Davis said, straightening his tie. “For us to win, she has to confess that those babies are yours.”The statement sliced through the room.Franklin’s head snapped up. “Shut up,” he growled. “Fucking shut the hell up, Davis.” His voice rose. “I made it cl

(Orion’s Mansion)The sky above Orion’s mansion had already darkened into a deep, velvet blue by the time Eliana drove her car silently into the driveway. She parked her car with a sharp turn, the tires hissing softly on the pavement, and sat there for a moment. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel, she inhaled deeply, letting the air fill her lungs, settle her heartbeat, calm the storm inside her chest. A storm no one seemed to understand, a storm she didn’t always understand herself.Then with a controlled breath, she finally pushed open the car door and stepped out.Her heels clicked sharply against the ground, every step she took toward the mansion carried the air of a woman who was used to being feared, used to being heard, used to being someone who didn’t need permission to exist or to cause chaos.A passing bodyguard stopped and bowed immediately.“Good evening, ma’am.”Eliana didn’t bother returning the greeting. Her eyes were cold and piercing enough to make the b

Thalia’s car rolled slowly through the towering wrought-iron gates of the Williams gigantic estate, the headlights glinting off the long, curving driveway. Her body ached from the relentless back-to-back shoots, every muscle heavy, yet her mind refused to stay quiet. She rested her head against the leather seat, her lip pressed together and her eyes half-closed, trying to block out the lingering chaos in her thoughts.Despite the exhaustion, despite the gnawing weight of everything she’d endured, every single shot that day had been perfect, every pose, every smile, every flicker of expression had hit exactly right. Even when her mind threatened to spiral, she had delivered wonderfully.It was remarkable, the way life demanded you to keep functioning even when you felt broken.The car stopped in front of the mansion. Thalia exhaled, watching as two bodyguards moved swiftly to assist her, one opening her door, the other taking her bag. Normally, she would have protested, insisting she

George set her gently on the bed, then sat beside her and began to undo the straps of her heels. “I need to take a bath, George…” she murmured, barely above a whisper. “Let me help you…” he replied, his voice soft, as he slid the heel off her right foot. “No, I can do it myself.” Her refusal was tender, not dismissive so he nodded. He removed the second heel, and she pushed herself upright, leaning forward to kiss him again. “Muah.”The tiny sound echoed between them, and they both broke into a smile when their lips parted. “I planned to propose to you at the gala,” he admitted, her hands wrapped around his neck. “I wanted us to start over…build a life far away from Paris.” “And is it too late?” she asked quietly. His head shook slowly. “Never, my love.” She smiled, brushing her thumb over his brows, God, she had missed his face, his touch, his warmth. Despite the fear and confusion still swirling inside her, she felt so safe with him. But the question kept circling like a w