All Chapters of Tangled Desires: Ex Husband Wants Me Back : Chapter 81 - Chapter 88

AVA MAXWELL’S POV ​Monday Night. 11:00 PM. ​The safe house Helen had arranged wasn’t a cabin in the woods or a bunker. It was a grimy, basement-level apartment in Koreatown, underneath a dry cleaner that smelled of perchloroethylene and fried garlic. ​It was the last place Thomas Parker would look for the pregnant wife of a billionaire. ​I sat at a wobbly laminate table, the glare of a laptop screen illuminating my face. Across from me sat a man who looked like he hadn’t seen the sun in a decade. He was pale, thin, and wore a hoodie that read “I void warranties.” ​This was Cipher. Helen’s guy. ​“You’re sure this will work?” I asked, my hand resting protectively over the small silver locket lying open on the table. ​Inside the locket, where a picture of Jerome usually sat, was a micro-chip. It was smaller than a fingernail, flat and black. ​Cipher took a sip of Red Bull and cracked his knuckles. “Lady, that chip is a masterpiece. It’s not just a virus; it’s a skeleton key. Once

​AVA MAXWELL’S POV ​The city of Los Angeles blurred into a streak of neon lights and shadows outside the tinted windows of the SUV. We were moving fast—too fast for legal limits, but fast enough to outrun the sirens wailing in the distance behind us. ​I sat in the backseat, my body turned completely toward Jerome. My hands were roaming over him, frantic and possessive, checking for injuries. ​He was a mess. His orange jumpsuit was torn at the shoulder, stained with soot and sweat. His knuckles were split and bleeding. There was a darkening bruise on his cheekbone where the guard had slammed him, and he smelled of smoke and violence. ​But he was alive. He was here. ​“I’m okay, Ava,” he murmured, catching my hands to stop their frantic search. “I’m okay. Stop.” ​“You’re bleeding,” I whispered, staring at his hands. ​“It’s not my blood,” he said grimly. ​I shuddered, but I didn’t pull away. I gripped his hands tight, intertwining our fingers. The metal of his wedding band was co

​JEROME’S POV ​Ammo Count: 13 rounds. ​The math was simple. Three targets. Thirteen bullets. One pregnant wife. ​I was crouching behind the overturned oak table, the wood splintering as bullets thudded into it. The air in the cabin was thick with dust, smoke, and the sharp, metallic tang of gunpowder. ​Pop. Pop. ​Two more shots from the yard. They were suppressing me, keeping my head down so they could flank. ​I risked a glance. ​The first man I’d shot was crawling through the snow, leaving a black trail of blood. The other two were moving. One to the left, toward the kitchen window. One to the right, toward the bedroom. ​They were splitting my attention. ​And standing in the center of the clearing, just out of effective pistol range, was Thomas. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his long wool coat, watching the destruction of his son’s life like it was an opera. ​I felt a vibration in the floorboards. ​A scream. ​It wasn’t a scream of fear. I knew Ava’s fear. Thi

JEROME’S POV The distance between us was thirty feet. Thirty feet of snow-covered ground, stained with soot and ash. At one end stood Thomas Parker; the man who gave me life. At the other stood Ava; the woman who gave my life meaning and holding our newborn son. And in between them was the invisible line of a bullet’s trajectory. Thomas held the revolver steady. The barrel was black, a void against the white snow. It wasn’t pointed at me. It was pointed directly at the bundle in Ava’s arms. “Put it down, Jerome,” Thomas repeated, his voice pleasant, almost conversational. “Don’t make me damage the merchandise.” “He’s not merchandise,” I said, my voice vibrating in my chest. “He’s a child. He’s your grandson.” “He is a reset button,” Thomas corrected. He took a slow step forward, the snow crunching under his expensive Italian loafers. “You failed, Jerome. You let emotions corrupt the business. But him? He’s a blank slate. I can raise him. I can teach him the right way. No dist