บททั้งหมดของ Chasing His Ex-Wife Back: บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

Damion’s POV The truth had a way of revealing itself in pieces—never all at once, never in a way that allowed you to prepare. And now, standing in my office, staring at the pages scattered across my desk, I felt like someone had just cracked my ribs open and left me gasping for breath. Christopher Bane’s death wasn’t an accident. There was no way the police could believe it was all an accident and he had just miraculously had an accident if it was not intentional planned. I had already suspected that much. But now? Now I had proof. I had the evidence that showed who Isabelle really was. But could I do it? I love her. I want her. I picked up the latest report from my investigator, my fingers gripping the edges so tightly the paper nearly crumpled. Bank Transfers from Isabelle Everett – Five Days Before Christopher’s Death. Recipient: Unknown Third Party – Offshore Account. That alone wasn’t enough to damn her. But the next page? Anonymous Witness Testimony: Isabel

Isabelle’s POV The moment the door slammed shut behind Damion, I felt like the air had been sucked from my lungs. I staggered back, my body trembling with an ache I hadn’t felt in years. A shiver running down my spine and my whole body in fear of the past. My mind was spinning, replaying every single second of our conversation. The way his eyes had darkened. The way his voice had softened just before I pushed him away. I hated him. So much! I hated that he still had the power to make me feel anything. To make me remember Christopher even after I didn’t want to remember what we had together. I stumbled toward my bedroom, barely making it before my knees gave out. Falling down to the floor, my body still shivering in fear. And then I cried. Hard. So hard that I have never did before. I buried my face into my pillow, my shoulders shaking, my fingers gripping the sheets as I let the pain consume me. Damion had brought back the ghosts I had fought so hard to bury.

Isabelle’s POV War was no longer a distant threat. It was here. And I was walking straight into it. I had spent years rebuilding myself. I had spent years surviving, learning, waiting. Now, I had one goal. To end this. To end them. I sat in my office, the city lights glowing behind me, the weight of my past and my present pressing down on my shoulders. My fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden desk, my mind calculating every possible outcome. Kaia wasn’t going to stop. Walter wasn’t going to stop. And Damion? I didn’t know where he stood anymore. But I didn’t have time to care. Not when I was this close to getting my revenge. My phone buzzed. I reached for it, my stomach tightening when I saw the name flashing across the screen. Unknown Number. I hesitated. It should be Brian, I think. Then answered. A slow, distorted voice came through. “You don’t have much time, Isabelle.” I straightened, my grip tightening on the phone. “Who is thi

Isabelle’s POV I sat in the dimly lit office, staring at the city skyline through the wide glass windows. The world outside carried on as usual—people walking the streets, traffic moving at its sluggish pace—but inside me, a storm was brewing. For the first time in my life, I was done waiting. Done hoping. Done pleading for someone to stand beside me. I was alone in this war, and that was fine. Because I had finally learned that power wasn’t given. It was taken. Kaia and Walter thought they had broken me. That I would be too weak to retaliate. They had no idea what I was capable of. I reached for my phone, dialing a number I never thought I’d use. It rang twice before a voice answered. “Isabelle,” Brian’s voice came through, steady and unreadable. “I’m ready,” I said without hesitation. There was a pause. “Are you sure?” I clenched my jaw. “They took everything from me. It’s time I return the favor.” Brian sighed. “Alright. But once we start, there’s no

Isabelle’s POV The night was eerily quiet. Too quiet. I stood by the window of my penthouse, staring at the city below—watching the blinking lights, the moving cars, the people who had no idea that a war was brewing in the shadows. A war I had started. And I wasn’t going to lose. The news had done its job. Kaia and Walter’s names were being dragged through the mud, and for the first time, they weren’t in control of the narrative. The power they had wielded so effortlessly for years was slipping through their fingers. I turned away from the window and poured myself a glass of whiskey, the rich amber liquid catching the dim light of the room. Everything was going according to plan. Yet, there was a strange heaviness in my chest. Not regret. No, I had passed that point long ago. It was something else. A whisper of the past. A reminder of who I used to be before I learned the hard way that power isn’t given—it’s taken. I pushed the thought aside. There was no tim