All Chapters of Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

32AlexI did not sleep much after the café. I kept seeing them at the table by the window. Eli’s careful questions. Emma’s small, proud smile. The way Stella watched the three of us like she was measuring weight and balance in her head, and would not let anything tip.The next day I sat in a park a few blocks from their house with a notebook I did not use. I wrote one text to Stella and deleted it. I wrote another and deleted that one too. When I finally sent a message, it was simple. Thank you for yesterday. I will follow your lead. Tell me what helps. She answered hours later. The same rules. One hour. Sunday. I will confirm the time. That was all I needed.Before the second meeting I bought two small things and asked permission. Stella said one small item each was fine, and only if the children wanted it. I brought a soft soccer ball for Eli, the kind you can use inside without knocking over a lamp, and a sketchbook with thick paper for Emma. I did not hand them over at once. I se

34StellaSunday started bright and ordinary, which helped me breathe. There were no weird texts or cars parked outside our gates. I made waffles since that was what the kids wanted. We went over the rules for the meeting one more time. One hour. In public. If you want to leave, we leave. They nodded patiently , though I could tell they absolutely could not wait to go there.By late morning they were already drawing. Emma bent over her sketchbook and made a sunflower with long petals, then added a man in a navy coat beside it. “This is Alex,” she said quietly. Eli drew a stick figure kicking a ball at a goal that took up half the page. He added a second, smaller figure and wrote P-A-T-C-H in big letters above it. “Patch is the referee,” he told me. I kissed the tops of their heads and tried to ignore the small shake in my hands. It was nice to see that they were adjusting into this pretty well.We met at the café by the park at four. Josh sat beside the twins. I took the seat that let

36StellaJosh stood at the counter with a pen behind his ear and the school calendar in front of him. He didn’t try to talk me out of it.“We’ll be fine,” he said. “Text me your flight. I’ll do school, snacks, and Patch’s ridiculous bath schedule. FaceTime tonight before bed.”We ran through the house list one more time. Password at pickup, back door sensor checked, go-bag where we could reach it, Eli listened intently. Emma hugged me three times and whispered that waffles tasted better when I made them. I promised I’d be home by midweek. Then I put my ID and a spare key in my pocket and left for the airport with a knot in my stomach and a calendar full of panels.The city on the other side of the flight smelled like rain and taxis. The hotel where the conference was held was taller than any building in our town and had a lobby that hummed like a hive. People I’d only seen in articles shook my hand like they already knew me. They called me the manager from the coast and said they’d h

38AlexThe house sounded wrong the second I opened the door. Not quiet, exactly. Hollow. The kind of silence that follows a shout.Security met me in the foyer. He looked like he’d slept in his suit.“Your parents are in the east sitting room,” he said. “The police cleared the study an hour ago.”“How bad,” I asked.“Targeted. No cash. No art. Only the study. Drawers dumped, safe opened, two cabinets emptied. Entry was clean. The alarm shows a maintenance loop at 2:11 a.m. Cameras were offline for nine minutes.”“Someone who knows the system.”“That’s our read.”I went to the study before I saw my parents. Papers lay across the rug like a deck thrown in the air. A lamp was on its side. The safe door hung open. Two shelves were bare, the dust rectangles sharp where binders had sat for years.“What’s missing?” I asked.Security checked his notes. “Travel folios for the last six months. Two trust binders. A folder marked Board Votes 2019. A red file labeled Contingency. Inventory is ong

40JoshI was angry enough to taste it. Not loud angry. A steady, hot kind that sits behind the ribs and won’t cool. Someone had managed to shove a “family mediation” onto a courthouse calendar with Stella’s name on it, like she was a problem to be solved, like we were pieces to be moved. I hated the idea of strangers in suits saying the words custody and character and best interests while they glanced at the clock.Anna kept me calm. She showed up with a laptop, a legal pad, and cinnamon rolls the twins devoured in three minutes.“Let’s break this down,” she said, pulling her hair into a knot. “Mediation is not court. It’s voluntary. No one can force an agreement out of us. We go, we show we’re reasonable, and then we leave if it starts to turn into something else.”Anna made us list what to bring with us.The schoolyard video that arrived on Stella’s phone with the message about eyes watching. A printout of the black lilies photo in Stella’s car. A photo of Anna’s vandalized door wi