All Chapters of Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

41Stella’s POVThe morning of the court mediation felt like walking underwater. I moved through the motions; showering, dressing, packing my bag… but everything was muted, like sound muffled by water. My hands trembled as I smoothed down my skirt, the fabric stiff beneath my palms. I hadn’t eaten. I couldn’t. Even coffee turned to ash in my mouth.Josh was already up. He moved quietly in the kitchen, making the twins breakfast, packing their lunch all the while not uttering a single word at all. When I entered, he glanced up and gave me a small smile. “You should try to eat something,” he said gently.I shook my head.He didn’t argue. He poured me tea and placed it near me on the counter.Eli wandered in with bed hair and a tired yawn, dragging Patch by the leash. Emma followed a beat later, still holding her plush rabbit, their eyes bouncing between us like they sensed the tension. I bent down and kissed both their cheeks, holding them for a little longer than usual. Emma tilted her

43Josh.The house was quiet. Not peaceful quiet, it was more of tired quiet. The court mediation was three days ago.Currently, the twins were asleep — thank God. Stella was in the shower and I was pacing the living room like I had forgotten how to sit still and keep calm. I’d told myself we got through it. Mediation hadn’t broken her. The Marwoods had thrown their sharpest knives and she’d stood tall. But Sophie’s voice still rang in my ears like a warning bell.“You haven’t won. I’ll make sure you regret every minute you kept them from me and Alex.”I wasn’t the kind of man who got scared easily. But I’d seen the look in her eyes when she said it. That wasn’t bitterness. It wasn’t even anger. That was something darker and much more calculated. If anything, she should be happy that the kids weren’t in Alex’s life so why was it the other way round?The kettle clicked off, and I poured water over the teabag without really tasting it first.Anna had gone home hours ago, but before she

45SophieThe news coverage was supposed to go my way.I sat cross-legged on the edge of my bed, tablet in one hand, an untouched glass of white wine in the other. My heels were still on. My blazer was tossed carelessly to the floor. The curtains were drawn. I hadn’t even turned on the lights. I didn’t need them. The screen glared back at me like it was judging me, like it had already chosen a side.“Runaway Heiress Triumphs in Custody Mediation; Public Support Surges for Stella Harrington.”Not “unstable.” Not “unfit.” Not “reckless.” No. Triumphs.I stared at the headline, reread the first few paragraphs again and again, each line burning my skin like acid. They called Stella “poised,” “credible,” “dedicated.” They praised her quiet strength. They even quoted the judge, saying there was “no concern about the wellbeing of the children under their mother’s care.”My lips curled.The twins. Always the twins.It didn’t matter that Stella had run off like a coward six years ago, hiding c

47Alex.The new apartment was quite small. It was absolutely nothing like the estate, nothing like the penthouses I used to live in. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t wake up surrounded by pressure, expectations, or anyone demanding I explain myself. There was peace in the quiet hum of the city outside my window. I’d rented it near the school district on purpose, close enough to feel part of the twins’ world without stepping over the lines Stella hadn’t invited me across yet.This morning, the air smelled like burnt toast because I’d tried to make breakfast myself. Eli had told me once that he liked strawberry jam better than grape. I’d remembered, picked up a jar, and set it out beside the plates like it mattered. It did matter. Every small thing counted now. And as much as I hated to admit, I had hope, that one day, I’d be making breakfast for the twins. And I needed to start getting in practice now, didn’t I?I checked the time. It was forty minutes until the school’

49JoshThe photo had haunted me for days. Not just because my mother looked terrified in it, but because it didn’t fit. Someone had gone to great lengths to capture a moment no one was supposed to see; and that someone had delivered it right to our doorstep, with a threat scribbled in red ink. I’d been digging ever since, running names, contacts, favors. That morning, I finally caught a break.The name scribbled faintly on the back of the photo; R. Mullen, turned up on an old employment roster from a Marwood-owned storage facility just outside the capital. He wasn’t security anymore. According to my contact, he hadn’t worked for anyone in years. He just… disappeared. But I found a last known address, a spot in a small town a few hours away. I didn’t tell Stella where I was going. I didn’t want to get her hopes up, not until I was sure.It was a quiet, rundown neighborhood with cracked sidewalks and empty porches. The kind of place people stopped looking for each other. I knocked twic