All Chapters of THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

CATHYGarrick arrived like a storm that had been holding itself back for too long. The moment his car pulled into the driveway, gravel scattering beneath the tires, I knew this wasn’t just fear anymore; it was war clawing its way to the surface. He stepped out before the engine even fully died, his eyes already scanning the house, the cars, the open space where Elena should have been.“Start from the beginning,” he said, his voice low, controlled in the way that only meant it was barely restrained.I swallowed hard. My throat felt raw already. “Her cars were still here. All of them. One door was open, her bag was on the ground, and her phone—" My voice cracked. “Her phone was outside. She never goes anywhere without it.”Garrick’s jaw tightened. He walked straight to the car, inspecting it like a crime scene. His fingers brushed over the open door, then the handle, then the interior. I watched his shoulders stiffen.“This wasn’t carelessness,” he muttered. “Someone interrupted her.”

GARRICKI sat there for a full ten seconds after the screen went black. Ten seconds too long. Cars swerved around me, drivers shouting, horns blaring, but the world had narrowed to a single, suffocating truth: Viktor Kovalenko had my daughter.I let out a sound that wasn’t quite a breath and not quite a growl.“Idiot,” I muttered to myself. To the man I used to be. To the foolish part of me that thought time could erase monsters.I shoved the car back into gear and drove, but not too fast, just careful and calculated. Speed gets you killed, and panic gets people you love killed.I had buried myself once, burned records, paid blood and money and silence to disappear. I had done everything right, until I got careless. Until I believed I could step back into my wife’s life like a ghost returning home, unnoticed. Viktor never forgets,aand worse, he never forgives. And never takes what he wants directly. He takes leverage first.Damian Blackwood. I exhaled sharply through my nose, because

ELENA Silence. Not the peaceful kind, the kind that hums in your ears and makes your skin crawl. The kind that tells you something is wrong because men like them never leave things quiet for long. My wrists ache where the ropes bit into my skin, and my throat is raw from screaming, from begging, from saying Damian’s name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once. I hold my breath, but as I do so, I hear footsteps. They are not heavy or rushed. They are dragging. Hope rises in my chest so fast it hurts. “Hello?” My voice cracks, desperation spilling out before I can stop it. “I’m in here. Please... please, I’m in here.” I push myself upright, chains clinking softly. My heart is pounding so loudly I’m sure whoever is coming can hear it. “Dad?” I whisper. “Garrick?” The door creaks open, and then Damian amian stumbles in. He Literally falls through the doorway like his body finally gave up arguing with gravity. “Oh my God.... Damian!” My scream rips out of me as he hi

ELENAMy eyes dart wildly around the room, searching for anything. A monitor, awire, even a shadow, or someone passing the doorway. The IV bag hangs there innocently, dripping poison into my veins like it has all the time in the world. My chest burns. Air goes in, but it doesn’t feel like enough. My lungs refuse to expand fully, as if my body has decided breathing is optional now. Move, I command myself. Just one finger and one muscle, please, but Nothing happens. Terror becomes physical as it claws at my ribs, coils around my throat. Tears stream unchecked down my temples, soaking into the pillow. I can’t even wipe them away.Angela. The thought slams into me harder than anything else. Angela needs me. I try to scream her name... in my head it’s loud and desperate, but my lips barely tremble. A pathetic, broken sound leaks out, swallowed by the machines, and the monitor beeps steadily, too steady.My vision swims, the edges of the room blur, lights smearing into halos. My body fee

DAMIAN They clean the wound like I’m a malfunctioning machine; efficient, careful, and detached. Scissors snip through the soaked gauze, antiseptic burns like hell, and I don’t flinch. Pain is background noise right now. Actually, white noise. Elena flatlines in my head every time I blink. “Hold still,” the nurse mutters. “I am,” I reply dryly. “You’re just slow.” She shoots me a look. If this were any other day, I’d apologise. Today is not that day. Fresh bandages are wrapped tight around my side, compression firm enough to make breathing a conscious effort. The doctor insists on another scan which of course, I refuse. He insists harder. I stare at him until he remembers who funds half the research wing. We compromise. I stay upright, I stay awake, and I stay here. They wheel me back towards Elena’s room, and the closer I get, the quieter the world becomes. As if the hospital itself knows better than to make noise near her. The glass wall reflects me. I look pale, jaw unsha