All Chapters of His Choice Wasn't Me: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

The letter arrived on a quiet afternoon, slipped between contracts and reports that demanded Sarah's signature.It was thinner than the rest, handwritten, the paper slightly creased as if it had been folded and unfolded too many times before finally being sealed.She noticed the prison stamp immediately.Sarah didn’t open it at once. She already knew who it was from. Some instincts never dull, no matter how much time passes or how far you distance yourself from the source.When she finally did, she read it standing, her back against the edge of her desk, the city stretching endlessly beyond her office window like a landscape from another world entirely.James did not ask for forgiveness. That surprised her.He asked about Melissa.The words were careful, measured, almost timid; so unlike the man she remembered. He wrote that he had been informed his daughter was now living with her. He thanked her. Repeatedly.The gratitude appeared in nearly every paragraph, humble and raw. He said h

Sarah didn’t look at James when he walked in.If she did, she knew the weight of everything he had broken would rise too fast, too sharp. She stayed still, her posture calm, her face unreadable, her focus entirely on the small girl sitting beside her.She wouldn’t have been here if not for Melissa.That truth sat clearly in her chest.Melissa needed her father now. Not the version the media knew. Not the disgraced man behind headlines and bars. She needed the man whose absence had carved anger into her little hands and confusion into her heart.She stood slightly behind Melissa, her posture straight, her face calm in that way it always became when she had already decided why she was there and how long she intended to stay.This visit was not about closure, forgiveness, or reopening old wounds. It was about a child who was beginning to crack under weight she never asked to carry.James noticed that immediately.He walked toward them slowly, the weight of the room pressing into his shou

Sarah stood alone in the living room long after Melissa had gone upstairs, the house settling into its usual evening quiet. The envelope from prison lay on the center table, unopened, as though it carried a sound that would erupt the moment she touched it.She had known it was from Tiana the instant she saw the handwriting, even the sender address attached behind it showed her name; sharp, impatient, almost aggressive even in ink.She picked it up finally, slid her finger under the seal, and unfolded the paper.The words hit harder than she expected.Tiana did not waste time with pleasantries or explanations. She accused. She warned. She demanded. Sarah was to stay the hell away from her daughter. Away from anything that concerned Melissa. Away from a life Tiana still believed she had a claim to, even from behind bars.Sarah read the letter once.Then again.Her face did not change, but something tightened quietly inside her chest. She folded the letter carefully, not because it deser

Sarah noticed it first in the quiet moments; how her shoulders stiffened whenever Andrea’s name lit up her phone, how she delayed returning his calls without meaning to, how she kept conversations practical when they used to drift easily into laughter.Her days had become a careful balancing act of board decisions, therapy schedules, school updates, and late-night worries she refused to speak aloud. Adding anything uncertain felt dangerous.Andrea noticed too.He didn’t confront her immediately. He wasn’t that kind of man anymore. The year away had taught him patience, had stripped him of the need to rush emotional outcomes. But distance, when it stretches too far, becomes avoidance.And he could feel it now; Sarah slipping back behind the walls she’d learned to build so well.He found her one evening in the study, sleeves rolled up, laptop open but untouched, her gaze fixed on nothing. The house was unusually quiet. Melissa had gone to bed early after therapy, emotionally drained.Th

Sarah sat across from Barrister Emmanuel Briggs in his private office at Transcorp, her posture straight and deliberate, her hands folded tightly on her lap.She narrated the visit from Mrs. Cole; the whispers, the fear in the woman's eyes, the careful refusal to name names even when pressed. She described how this was not the first attempt, not the second, but the third time quiet forces had tried to undermine her authority under the guise of corporate concern, each effort more sophisticated than the last.She reminded the lawyer how the two Uncles of late Mrs. Julia Augustine – Lord Benedict Augustine and his brother, Henry, were still in prison up till now, serving their terms because of this same plot to undermine her authority. She wondered if these two could still have a hand in this plot.As she spoke, her voice remained even, controlled, but Briggs could hear what she wasn't saying: exhaustion layered beneath control, the weight of constant vigilance wearing her down increment