All Chapters of Married Twice, Loved Once : Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The room was quiet now, save for the hum of the central air conditioning and the steady rhythm of Simon’s breathing.Vivienne lay still, staring at the ceiling. The silk sheets, which had felt cool against her skin an hour ago, now felt suffocating. They clung to her like a second skin she couldn't shed.She felt… hollow.That was the only word for it. Not sad. Not angry. Just scraped clean of everything that made her Vivienne Carter. The pride she wore like armor, the sharp wit, the dignity it had all been left at the door along with her discarded dress.Beside her, Simon shifted. His arm, heavy and possessive, was draped over her waist. He was asleep, radiating the relaxed, satisfied heat of a man who had won a prize he’d been chasing for months.Vivienne slowly, carefully, lifted his arm and slid out from under it.“Going somewhere?” Simon’s voice was rough with sleep, but alert.Vivienne froze on the edge of the bed, her back to him. She pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness,

9:15 AM. Selene’s Guest Room.Sophia paced the small, elegantly decorated guest room, her phone burning a hole in her hand. Through the thin walls, she could hear Selene in the living room, calmly making a call to her broker, already pivoting, already moving on to the next long-term strategy.“We wait,” Selene had said.Sophia stopped pacing and glared at her reflection in the mirror. Wait? Wait for what?Damian’s speech was playing on a loop in her head. The way he had stood there, so arrogant, so protective. He had turned Aria boring, chubby, desperate Aria into a tragic heroine. And the internet was eating it up. The comments on the blogs were shifting already.“He’s protecting her. That’s actually kinda hot.”“Maybe she didn’t want the money. Maybe she was just a pawn.”“Leave the poor girl alone.”Sophia grit her teeth. It wasn’t fair. They were supposed to be destroyed. Aria was supposed to be humiliated, not pitied.“He’s lying,” Sophia whispered to the empty room. “She wasn’t

11:00 AM. The Penthouse Master Bedroom.The curtains were drawn, casting the room in a soft, melancholic twilight. Aria sat propped up against the pillows of the massive bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her tablet resting on the duvet.She wasn’t reading the news anymore. She was looking at photos. Old photos of her and Sophia. Photos of them at brunch, at university, at fittings. Years of friendship, secrets, and laughter, all reduced to a calculated betrayal for no reason.The door clicked open.Aria didn’t look up as Damian walked in. He had shed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, looking less like a CEO and more like a man who had just fought a physical brawl.He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.“How are you feeling?” he asked softly, his eyes scanning her face. “I hope you’re not overthinking the comments. Max has already scrubbed the worst of them.”Aria finally looked at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her expre

4:00 PM. The Penthouse.Aria returned to the penthouse as the afternoon sun began its slow descent, pouring molten gold through the glass walls and stretching shadows across marble floors.She changed in the car.The woman who had sat across from Lucas Walter spine straight, eyes sharp, voice cool enough to cut glass never crossed the threshold with her. That version stayed behind like a discarded blade.Mrs. Cross stepped out instead.Her hair was slightly undone, as if she had run her fingers through it too many times. A soft cashmere cardigan clung to her shoulders, muting her silhouette, rounding her edges. Her posture sagged just enough to sell exhaustion. Vulnerability, carefully measured.Damian’s voice carried from the study, clipped and commanding as he issued instructions to a legal team somewhere in London.Aria didn’t go to him.She went to the kitchen.She poured herself a glass of water. Her hand trembled not from fear, but from the residual hum of control. Of a game pla

7:40 PM. Selene’s Apartment. The knock came once.Not loud.Not rushed.Authoritative.Selene froze mid-step, her phone slipping from her fingers as it vibrated across the marble floor. She already knew. She just hadn’t expected it to be tonight.She opened the door.Damian Cross stood there, dressed in black, hands in his pockets. Two men in plain clothes flanked him, badges visible but discreet.His expression wasn’t angry.It was finished.“Damian—” Selene started, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “If this is about the blogs, I already said I didn’t—”“Stop,” Damian said quietly.One word. Enough to shut the room down.He stepped inside without waiting for permission, his eyes scanning the apartment like a man walking through a crime scene he had already reconstructed.“You have the right to remain silent,” one of the officers began.“Not yet,” Damian said, lifting a hand.The officer paused.Damian turned to Selene.“I warned you,” he said calmly. “The first time you i