All Chapters of Marrying My Ex for Revenge: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The pancake batter hits the griddle with a satisfying sizzle.Today is for chocolate chips and cartoons, Mrs. Patel's day off, and Ava perched on the counter in her unicorn pajamas. Her legs swing against the cabinet doors in a rhythm only she can hear."Three chocolate chips for the ears." Ava leans over the griddle, her breath fogging the steam. "And two for the nose. That makes it a bear, Mommy.""Mathematical genius." I flip the pancake. The chocolate chips have already melted into abstract shapes that look nothing like a bear. "What would I do without you?""Making only circle pancakes.""Probably."She giggles, that sound that makes every sleepless night and board meeting worth it. My daughter. My anchor. The one piece of my life that has nothing to do with Adrian Kane.Except she does now. Since yesterday. Since that moment in the park when she dropped Mr. Floppington at his feet like an offering.I slide the pancake onto her plate. She drowns it in syrup with the enthusiasm of

Timeline: 11:43 PM—the night he returned what I thought was lostI found the playlist today.No—that’s a lie. He found it.He wrapped it carefully, like something precious instead of what it really is: evidence of how naïve I used to be.The lavender case has a crack in the corner now. I don’t remember when that happened.Or which bag it got tossed into. Or how something once so carefully chosen got damaged.But I remember buying it.Standing in the Apple Store on Fifth Avenue, twenty-two years old, convinced lavender was sophisticated.That it said I’m an adult who makes thoughtful choices instead of I’m a girl playing dress-up in a woman’s life.I remember loading every song with the kind of conviction only the young and foolish possess—believing that a playlist could save a relationship.That if I just found the right words—someone else’s words, wrapped in melody—he’d understand what I couldn’t say.---Track 1: “Skinny Love.”I renamed it Please Don’t Go.Subtle, right?The kind

My calendar notification appears at 6:50 AM: Five Years. I dismiss it. I already know what day it is. I have known since I woke at 4 AM and couldn't fall back asleep. Five years ago today, I was supposed to marry Elena Sinclair at St. Patrick's Cathedral. Three hundred guests. String quartet. Flowers imported from Ecuador because Elena mentioned once that she loved blue hydrangeas. Instead, I spent that day in my father's office, listening to him explain why choosing her meant losing everything. The coffee burns my throat going down. I welcome it. Nathan picks me up at 12:10 PM. Rush hour traffic crawls through Manhattan like blood through dying veins. "Where to, sir?" "The memorial garden." He doesn't ask which one. We've made this drive often enough that he knows. The garden I built where St. Patrick's Cathedral would have been in our sightline. Where I can see the building and remember what I destroyed. The garden sits empty as I kneel by the plaque. Bronze. Simple. Just h

Mount Sinai Hospital smells like antiseptic and hope. I stride through the cardiac wing like I own it.Because technically, my best friend could buy this entire hospital with her quarterly earnings. That has to count for something.A nurse tries to stop me. "Visiting hours—""I'm here to see Dr. Morrison. Personal matter.""Dr. Morrison is in surgery—""Then I'll wait."I plant myself in a chair outside the surgical wing.Cross my legs. Pull out my phone and start responding to emails like I have all day. Of course I do! Two hours lat

My phone explodes with notifications while I'm buttoning Ava's coat."Ow, Mommy!" She squirms away."Sorry, baby." Eyes locked on the screen—seventeen missed calls, thirty-two emails. All from Maxwell Tanner, my CFO.URGENT. EMERGENCY. CALL IMMEDIATELY."Mrs. Patel, can you take her to school? I have to go.""Of course."Ava's forehead gets a kiss, strawberry shampoo filling my lungs. "Be good today. Mommy loves you.""Love you too."Out the door before guilt catches up.Maxwell meets me in the lobby,