Semua Bab THE DIVORCED WIFE RETURNS TO TAKE BACK WHAT’S HERS : Bab 31 - Bab 40

ELENA I sat in my car, engine running but going nowhere. The city pulsed around me, yellow cabs honking, people darting between lanes, the endless sound of a place that never slept. Yet somehow, all I could hear was the echo of my mother’s voice from two nights ago, brittle and detached, like she was trying to hold herself together with paper and glue. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, staring at the faint scratches on the leather. Something’s wrong with her. I knew it even before I came back to New York. The video calls had grown shorter, her eyes darting around like someone was watching her. Then she stopped answering altogether. And now her house was set on fire, and she wanted to drop the charges? That wasn’t my mother. That was someone scared into silence. Was she threatened? Controlled? Or worse, protecting someone? I rubbed my temple. It didn’t matter. I was not giving up on her, no matter how many walls she tried to build between us. And as for the investigation?

ELENAIt had been a long week. A ridiculously long week. The kind of week that felt like a year squeezed into five exhausting days, running between meetings, dealing with Paul, chasing housing options, keeping my mother from having an emotional landslide, and smiling politely at people I wanted to strangle with biodegradable shopping bags.So naturally, the universe decided I hadn’t suffered enough and sent me to the grocery store.I was just comparing two brands of organic pasta, one with less sodium, one with fewer carbs, both overpriced when I caught a glimpse of someone walking towards my aisle. Tall, broad shoulders, annoyingly confident stride.Damian.Of course he was here. Of course.My entire body reacted like I’d seen a wild predator. I dropped the pasta into my basket, spun around, and brisk-walked—fine, ran out of the aisle like a fugitive escaping a crime scene.I turned the corner into the next aisle, leaned against the shelf, exhaled in relief—“Elena? Oh my goodness, E

ELENADinner at the Blackwood house feels like stepping into a soap opera I didn’t audition for, but, apparently, still got cast in as the main character. The moment we sit down, I see Isabelle attempt to position herself beside Damian.Key word: attempt, because Damian’s mother swoops in like a loyalty-trained hawk. “No, no, Isabelle dear, that’s Elena’s seat. You sit… there.”She gestures to the furthest chair, one that’s practically in another postal code.I nearly choke on my own silent laughter.Isabelle sits stiffly, like the chair personally offended her. Meanwhile, Damian's parents keep fussing over me and my mother, passing us dishes first, asking about our week, complimenting everything from my dress to my earrings.It’s sweet, and also extremely petty.I love it.Isabelle tries to join the conversation several times, but each attempt ends in smoke.She leans forward, smiling way too hard.“Elena, I love your dress. Is it new?”I sip my wine, smile sweetly. “Oh, thank you

ELENAThe car door slammed shut behind me and for a second, there was nothing but the sound of my own breath breaking apart. My mother slid in next to me, her perfume soft smelling like soft jasmine, filling the small space, and I hated that it made me feel like a child again. A child who ran to her mother when things hurt too much.I gripped the steering wheel even though I wasn’t driving. I just needed something solid.Then the tears came. Not soft, and not quiet. My tears were ugly, violent, and devastating.I bent forward, choking on sobs, my chest burning as though someone had taken a fistful of glass and shoved it inside.“Elena,” my mother whispered, horrified, her hands hovering before finally landing on my trembling shoulders. “What happened? Talk to me.”I laughed. God, I laughed. A hysterical, broken sound.“What happened?” I repeated, wiping my face with my sleeve only for more tears to replace them. “You were in there. You saw. They all sat there, pretending, smiling at m

DAMIAN Elena’s taillights were still burning into my retinas long after her car disappeared around the corner. I stood there, frozen in the middle of the damn parking garage like a fool, hands clenched at my sides, chest tight, jaw locked. She drove away from me like I was a disease, and somehow I’m the villain? …Right. Sure. My ex-wife cheats on me, I find the pictures of her in bed with another man, and somehow I’m the one ruining her life. Unbelievable. I let out a slow breath, but it felt like trying to exhale broken glass. Behind me, Adrian cleared his throat, his voice careful, soft and like he knew I was this close to breaking something. “Damian… listen, I know this looks bad, but I want to explain—” I didn’t even bother looking at him. I just walked straight past, shoulder-checking him so hard he stumbled. He should be grateful that was all he got. I could hear him breathing behind me, hear him starting another pathetic attempt at an apology, but I blocked out ever