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Home / Romance / Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! / Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

All Chapters of Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

257 Chapters

190

190The house felt heavier than usual, the kind of weight that settles in your chest without warning. After everything—the kidnappings, Caleb, the van, the chaos of almost losing my children—the quiet should have been comforting. Instead, it pressed in, an invisible tension that made me jump at every creak in the floorboards.The twins ran past me, their laughter bouncing off the walls, chasing each other with reckless joy. I watched them for a moment, standing in the doorway of the living room, and tried to breathe in the normalcy. It felt fragile, like a soap bubble ready to pop, and I wondered if Alex felt the same tension gnawing at the edges of his mind.I did. I knew him too well. And that knowledge made me uneasy.He was distant. I noticed it at dinner the night before, the way his fork hovered over his plate as if every bite required calculation. The words he spoke to the twins were gentle, but there was a tension in his eyes, the kind that made me want to reach across the tab

191

191Alex.I met Harold Price in a quiet café on the outskirts of the city, the kind of place that looked like it hadn’t changed in fifty years. The neon sign flickered faintly above the door, and inside, the smell of old coffee and worn leather filled the air. He was already there, a stack of folders beside him, his gaze scanning the room like he expected trouble at any moment. And with my life lately, that didn’t feel impossible.Harold was old-school. I could tell immediately. No laptop, no tablet, not even a smartphone in sight. Just folders, a notebook, and a man who looked like he had been in law enforcement for longer than most people could even imagine. He had a slow, deliberate way of moving, like every gesture carried purpose. And the calm in his eyes—I’ll admit—it was oddly reassuring, given everything else that had been chaotic in the past months.“Alex Marwood?” he asked, his voice gravelly but measured. He stood as I approached, offering a hand. I shook it firmly. “I’ve h

192

192Alex.Three days had passed since Harold Price vanished, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on every corner of my life. It was subtle at first: I woke before sunrise, checking my phone repeatedly, hoping for a single message, a missed call, anything. Then it became more obvious—pacing in the study, tapping pens against the desk, scanning the news endlessly for any hint of Harold’s whereabouts. The twins noticed my restlessness; they asked questions I couldn’t answer without sounding paranoid. Stella noticed too, the way my jaw tightened and my fingers drummed endlessly on every surface.“You’re acting like a man possessed,” she said one evening, resting her hand lightly on my arm as I paced yet again.“I can’t just wait,” I muttered, my eyes darting to the phone lying on the table. “Harold… he knows things. Things that matter. And he hasn’t returned a single call.”She frowned, her brow knitting in that way that always made me stop, just for a second, and take stock.

193

193Alex.The envelope on the table earlier still weighed heavy on my mind, a grim punctuation mark that refused to let me sleep. Most people would have been intimidated by it—by the photograph of Harold Price crushed in his car, and the note underneath: “Stop digging, or you’re next.” Most people would have retreated, stopped asking questions, stopped following the threads. But me? That wasn’t an option. It never had been.If Harold had died because of the truth, then the truth would not die with him.I moved quietly around the house, careful not to wake Stella or the twins. My hands were steady, my mind sharp, as I opened the secure laptop Marcus had set up in the study. It was time to start connecting dots—tracing the driver, the crash, the financials, the people who had passed through the Marwood estate that fateful year.The driver. Harold had left me a stack of files, meticulous notes detailing inconsistencies in the accident report. The braking distances didn’t match the car. W

194

194Stella.I woke to the faint hum of Alex’s car engine leaving the driveway. It was early, too early for anyone in this house to have business to conduct. The twins were still asleep, curled up under their blankets, their breaths shallow and even. I watched Alex slip into his suit jacket, grab a leather briefcase, and step out into the crisp morning air.He paused at the car, glanced back at the house, and gave me a look that he clearly meant to reassure me. “I have a meeting. Business,” he said, his voice clipped.“Business?” I repeated, not buying it for a second. His tone didn’t match the gravity of the past weeks, didn’t match the tension I could see tightening his jaw. “At this hour?”He offered nothing more, simply nodded, and drove off. But the pit in my stomach told me that wasn’t the full story. He was hiding something. Always had a reason, always had a strategy. But this time, I wanted to know. Quietly, I followed, making sure to stay just out of sight.The city blurred pa

195

195Alex.I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen, the sergeant’s words repeating in my head like a relentless echo. His face was haggard, lines etched deep from years of worry, fear, and the weight of knowing he’d been forced into silence. The drive whirred quietly on my desk, the hum somehow louder than it should have been, as if the apartment itself was holding its breath. “The driver was only a pawn,” he said, voice cracking in the gaps between sentences. “The orders… they came from someone who had influence in both the police and the Marwood business network. I refused to file the original report, and… I was forced out.”I pressed pause, leaned back, and rubbed my temples. Every instinct I had screamed that the world I knew—my family, my company, my carefully structured life—was no longer intact. The Marwood empire I’d built, the business alliances, the people I trusted—they all now seemed like fragile glass under the weight of an unseen hand, and Eleanor’s death wasn’t just

196

196.Stella.The park had never felt so empty and loud at the time. The laughter of other children echoed faintly, a reminder of normalcy that felt almost alien after everything that had happened. I pushed the twins on the swings, their small hands gripping the chains tightly, their faces alight with joy, while a part of me kept scanning the surroundings, alert, tense. Even on a sunny afternoon, I couldn’t shake the weight in my chest, the knowledge that danger was never far.Josh’s voice over the phone earlier in the day replayed in my mind like a cautionary mantra. If Alex is stirring old enemies, Stella… you and the children could be collateral. I hadn’t wanted to think about it, but there was a nagging truth in his words. Alex had always been secretive, yes, but the sense that something far more dangerous was at play now twisted the pit of my stomach into knots. I had trusted him, even during Caleb, even with the chaos that had nearly destroyed us. But now? The idea that he could

197

197Alex.I ran down the street, heart hammering, every instinct screaming at me to catch the figure that had just vanished into the night. The city was quiet, far too quiet, and the darkness seemed to fold around corners like a living thing, swallowing the intruder before I could even get a decent glimpse. I cursed under my breath, my gloves scraping against the pavement as I pushed harder, but it was no use. Whoever it was, they knew the streets, knew the alleys, knew how to vanish.Marcus’s voice buzzed in my earpiece. “Alex, you lost them. They’re gone.” His tone was clipped, practical, but I heard the same frustration that I felt clawing at me. “I’m pulling footage from all perimeter cameras and street cams. You’ll have a lead in fifteen.”“Do it,” I said, breathing hard, chest heaving. “I want to know if that was someone connected to Harold’s—no, not just Harold’s death. This whole thing. It’s escalating. Someone wants to scare me off everything: Eleanor, the twins, Stella. Both

198

198Stella.I sat across from Alex, watching the lines of tension etched into his face, the rigid set of his shoulders that never seemed to relax, not even in moments of supposed safety. The house was quiet, the twins asleep in their room, and the city outside seemed oblivious to the storm gathering in our lives. Finally, after days of pacing, hidden phones, and cryptic messages, he told me. He admitted the truth, the one he had carried alone, and that admission felt heavier than any burden I had ever borne.“Stella,” he began, his voice low, measured. “There’s more to Eleanor’s death than we were ever told. The crash—it wasn’t an accident.”I blinked, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to constrict around me. The world paused. I had known that Alex had been investigating in secret, had sensed the tension in his glances and the weight behind his decisions, but hearing the words spoken aloud, in the quiet of our home, sent a jolt straight through my chest.“What do you mean it was

199

199Alex.The moment the message flashed on my phone, the cold knot in my chest tightened. It wasn’t just the threat—it was the implication, the calculated cruelty of it. Whoever had sent it knew exactly how to get under my skin, how to make me question every single second of peace I had fought to carve out for Stella and the twins. I didn’t hesitate. I never hesitated. Not anymore.I called Marcus first, keeping my voice even, controlled, but every syllable carried urgency. “Double the guards,” I instructed. “Every entrance, every exit. Make sure there’s constant surveillance on the twins, inside and out. No one leaves the property without my knowledge. You understand?”“Understood,” Marcus replied, his tone flat, professional. I knew he understood the stakes. He always did. He was good at anticipating threats before even I could fully see them. Still, I couldn’t shake the sensation, the eerie prickling at the back of my neck, the feeling of eyes lingering on the property even when t

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