All Chapters of Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

122Alex.When patience snapped, it wasn’t dramatic. No slamming of doors or shouted threats. It happened in the space between breaths, sometime after lunch, when I caught Stella standing at the kitchen window, her shoulders tight and her face pale in the autumn light. She hadn’t noticed I was watching her, and for a long minute, she just stared out at the street, fingers drumming against her mug, lips pressed together in a line that spelled out more than words ever could.I thought of the wrappers with her address, the way the twins had recounted the “friendly” man at the school gate, and I felt something give way inside me. I’d spent days, maybe weeks, trying to be reasonable. To play things smart. To gather evidence and keep my temper in check, not wanting to make things worse. But I couldn’t do it anymore. I was done waiting for the next warning, the next veiled threat, the next brush with danger. Enough.I found my car keys without thinking. Stella looked up, a question in her ey

124Alex.The envelope felt heavier than it should. Even before I tore it open, I could sense the ugliness inside. I glanced once at Stella’s face—her jaw tight, worry carving new lines around her mouth—and I made a silent vow not to let her see what was coming. Not until I could shield her from it, somehow.I took the envelope from her hands. The paper was expensive, thick beneath my fingers, the ink on “Mrs. Marwood” starting to smudge from how hard I gripped it. Mark, one of the guards, hovered by the door, his eyes alert. I nodded at him. “Thanks. You can go back outside.” He hesitated a moment, then left, shutting the door with a soft click that felt far too loud in the tense hush of the room.I waited until Stella had sat down on the edge of the couch, arms crossed over her chest, eyes fixed on me but wary. “Let me see,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.“No.” I kept my tone even. “Not yet.” I peeled the envelope open, slow and careful, wanting to buy time—half for her, ha

126Alex.The sound that woke me was sharp and out of place. It sliced right through the haze of exhaustion, sent a jolt down my spine. I grabbed for my phone, then realized my hands were shaking. The house was still except for that creak, the same one we’d heard before, only this time it felt like a summons.I moved fast—bare feet cold against the hardwood, a heavy candlestick from the mantle clenched tight in my fist. It wasn’t much, but it felt solid, real, something I could swing if it came to that. I was already halfway up the stairs before I realized I hadn’t thought about my own safety, just Stella’s, just the twins’.The hall was dark except for a slant of light from the bathroom at the far end. I moved quietly, every step measured, heart pounding in my chest so loud I was sure the whole street could hear it. When I passed the twins’ door, I pressed my ear against the wood—two soft breaths, a sleepy murmur. Relief, immediate and overwhelming, flooded me.But the house felt wro

128Alex.I don’t remember the last time I felt rage like this. Not the cold, calculating anger I’d learned to master in boardrooms, but the raw kind—the sort that makes your hands shake and your vision go white at the edges.The brick, the note, the bootprints by the fence, the constant threat. It had gone too far. Someone was taunting us, terrorizing Stella and the twins in their own home. My home, now, too, whether I deserved it or not.I locked myself in the spare bedroom with my phone and my laptop, determined to do something, anything, that would put an end to this nightmare. I started with my oldest contacts, people from my father’s world who owed me favors, then moved on to every private security company I’d ever hired for Marwood events. I hated that I had to do this for a second time, but the situation required it.I explained the situation in blunt, urgent detail. “My family is being stalked. My children’s lives have been threatened. I want round-the-clock protection—armed,

130Stella.For weeks I’d told myself it was just nerves, that the low hum of unease was a leftover ghost from months of stress, not something new. But lately, the feeling has sharpened. I can feel it—the sensation of being watched—pressing at the back of my neck in grocery store aisles, on the sidewalk, at every red light. I keep telling myself it’s nothing. But the world feels thinner lately, more fragile.This afternoon, I stopped by the store to buy bread and fruit for the twins’ lunches, and coffee—always coffee. I pushed my cart past the bakery, trailing the familiar route: cereal, produce, then snacks. That’s when I noticed him. A man, tall, wearing a baseball cap pulled low and a black jacket, standing by the oranges. He was pretending to examine apples, but when I moved to the next aisle, he moved too.At first, I tried to rationalize it. Maybe he just needed pasta like I did. Maybe he was after peanut butter, too. I pretended not to notice, but my heart thudded louder with e