Semua Bab Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : Bab 211 - Bab 220

211Dane.The dim light in the back room of the downtown office barely reached the corners, leaving long shadows that seemed to stretch toward the ceiling like fingers. I leaned back in the worn leather chair, eyes on Sophie as she fussed with the papers spread across the table. The city lights outside the grimy window cast an intermittent glow, and the hum of traffic below provided a low, constant pulse.“You’re taking this too slowly,” Sophie snapped, tossing one of the folders across the table. The papers fluttered but landed precisely where she wanted them. Her heels clicked as she leaned over the table, hands pressed flat, a sharpness in her eyes that could cut steel. “The backpack stunt? It didn’t push Stella to leave. She’s still there, still clinging to Alex. If you ask me, it’s pointless unless we escalate.”I shook my head, suppressing a sigh. I’d seen this before—her impatience, her need for immediate gratification, the same type of recklessness that had caused problems in

213Stella.I never realized how quickly fear could settle into a routine. It didn’t arrive with sirens or shouting or dramatic music. It moved quietly, like a stain seeping into fabric, hard to notice until it covered everything. Some mornings I woke up feeling almost normal. Then I’d remember that bouquet with the black ribbon. The hotel break-ins. The shadow of a figure watching from across the street. And the feeling would return, heavy and close, as if something were sitting on my chest, waiting patiently for me to acknowledge it.For the past week, I had been driving the twins to school using a different route every single day. Sometimes the long way through the older part of town, past the shops with rusting signs and uneven walkways. Other days I cut through the upper residential blocks with neat hedges and quiet, narrow streets. And twice, I swapped cars with Josh at the last minute, just so no one could track a consistent pattern. He didn’t complain. He just handed me his ke

215Stella.I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this hollow in the pit of my stomach. Sophie had crossed a line, and she knew it. She wasn’t sending warnings anymore. She was taunting us. The van, the doll, the calls, and now this—the open display that someone could watch my children with complete ease. Every instinct I had as a mother screamed that I should be furious, that I should throw myself into the fray. But beneath the anger, there was fear, icy and sharp, that I couldn’t shake.I found Alex in the study, pacing like a caged animal, phone in hand, checking every alert from the security team. He didn’t notice me at first, eyes narrowed, jaw tight. His concentration was on the pattern of the van movements, the data from the GPS trackers, and perhaps on what he could control. But I needed more than controlled data. I needed action. I needed a voice that said, This is wrong, and we’re stopping it.“Alex,” I said, voice firm, though my heart felt like it was hammering in my

217Alex.I wasn’t sleeping anymore. Not the way a normal person sleeps, not the way I used to before my world narrowed into threat assessments and contingency planning. I lay in bed at night with my body still but my mind sprinting full-speed, mapping routes, exits, angles, people who could be bought, people who could be turned. Every morning I woke up feeling like I’d run a marathon I couldn’t remember, lungs tight, heartbeat wired like electricity under my skin.The worst part was knowing I could do everything right and still fail.Fear like that chews slowly at one’s sanity.After the van incident, after Sophie’s voice slid through the phone like something rotten wearing silk, I felt it more than ever—that invisible countdown. It felt like we were being auditioned for destruction.I spent the entire day in the study, papers and floor plans spread across my desk like a crime board. Marcus stood beside me for hours, silent unless I asked something directly, methodical as always, but

219Alex.The world narrows to a violent tunnel the moment I pull into the school lot.Sirens. Screams muffled behind slammed office doors. Teachers herding frightened students into classrooms. A principal pacing, phone shaking in her hand. News vans already circling like carrion birds sensing fresh death.Lockdown.My children are gone.But I force oxygen into my lungs, because panic does nothing. Panic is a luxury for people who have nothing to lose.I have everything.I stride past a cluster of staff—shaking heads, whispered prayers—and head straight toward the security gate. Marcus meets me halfway, jaw clenched like stone, sweat shining along his brow. He looks like hell, which means at least he understands the gravity of this.“Exits first,” I tell him. My voice shocks me with its steadiness. “No one leaves. No exceptions. Shut the school down, perimeter to parking lot. If anyone tries to get through, you stop them. I don’t care how.”He nods once and melts away, barking orders