All Chapters of Marrying My Ex for Revenge: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

We stop at a diner on the way back. One of those 24-hour places that exists in the gap between Sunday nights and Monday mornings. Fluorescent lights harsh after the darkness of the reservoir. Vinyl booths cracked from decades of use.Sofia orders coffee and pie. I order the same because decision-making feels beyond my capacity right now.The waitress is sixty-something with hair dyed an impossible shade of red. She pours coffee without asking if we want refills. Just tops off cups that are still half full."You two look like you're solving world hunger," she observes."Just relationship problems," Sofia says."Same thing." The waitress moves to the next table. "Good luck with that."

Six AM arrives without sleep.I'm sitting in my car outside Greg's building. Upper West Side. Pre-war. A place people with old money choose because they don't need to prove anything.The coffee from the bodega across the street has gone cold in my hand. I drink it anyway.Marcus's words keep looping: You're supposed to fight your own battles.Fine. I'm fighting.Greg's building doesn't have a doorman. Just a security system. I wait near the entrance until someone leaves for their morning run. Hold the door. Smile like I belong.Seventh floor. Apartment 7C. Found the address in corporate records

Footsteps echo in the stairwell. Fast. Multiple sets.Elena appears first. Sofia right behind her. Both breathing hard from taking the stairs at speed.Elena stops when she sees me. Her expression is complex—relief and anger and exhaustion all competing for dominance.Owen steps back. Gives her space."You came anyway," she says."I did. And I'd do it again."Sofia positions herself near the door. Lawyer stance. Recording everything."I made my choice," I say. "Maybe you don't like it. But it was mine to make.""Without me."

Nine unanswered texts—that’s when I start to worry.Marcus doesn't ignore messages. Not from me. Not since Montauk. Not since we decided to actually try being brothers instead of whatever we were before.I call. It rings through to voicemail.Call again. Same result.Nathan glances over from the driver's seat. "You want me to swing by his place?""Yeah." I pocket my phone. "Something's off.""Could just be busy.""Marcus never misses a text. Not even during board meetings."Nathan merges onto the parkway. Traffic is light for a Tuesday even

"Victor was watching you eighteen months before you ever saw Adrian again."His words hang in the air like smoke I can't wave away. Sofia's fingers dig into my wrist."Excuse me?""Not through Greg Hartwell. This was earlier. Separate."Robert slides a folder across his desk—thick, weathered at the edges, the kind of thing that's been waiting."He detailed your business decisions. Your parenting. And how you handled pressure."The folder sits between us. I don't reach for it."You're saying a man I never met was building a case file on my life."