Todos los capítulos de Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns: Capítulo 191 - Capítulo 200

Gabriel’s pOVI didn’t respond to Sylvia.Not because I had nothing to say.But because anything I said would have been exactly what she wanted — reaction, temper, a crack in the composure she was documenting so carefully.She watched me for it.When it didn’t come, her smile deepened slightly.“You always underestimate me,” she said.“No,” I replied evenly. “I learned you.”A flicker passed through her eyes at that. Gone in an instant.“You should prepare her,” Sylvia continued, glancing toward the elevators. “Courtrooms are less forgiving than hospital rooms.”Then she walked away.Unhurried.Controlled.Like someone who had already set the board and was simply waiting for the first piece to fall.⸻When I returned upstairs, Sienna was standing by the window in Aria’s room.She didn’t turn around.“She’s filing,” I said.“I assumed.”“For full custody.”A pause.“And?”“Adultery.”That made her face me.Not shocked.Not even angry.Just… tired.“She’s not wrong,” Sienna said quietly

Gabriel’s POVThe hospital room felt colder after Sylvia left.Aria was asleep now. Peaceful. Unaware that her parents were preparing to tear each other apart in court.I stood by the window, staring at the city lights.When did it get this bad?When did my marriage turn into strategy and evidence?A soft knock came from the door.“Mr. Vale?”I turned. Sienna.She stepped inside carefully, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to be there.“I heard Aria is sleeping,” she said quietly.“She is.”Silence settled between us.There was something different in her eyes tonight.Distance.“I should go,” she added quickly. “I don’t want to cause more problems.”“You’re not the problem,” I said.She gave a small, sad smile. “According to your wife, I am.”I ran a hand through my hair.“This isn’t about you.”“It is,” she said gently. “Maybe not emotionally. But legally? It is.”I didn’t deny it.Because Daniel’s words were still ringing in my head.No visible contact.No emotional dependency.“

Gabriel’s POVThe envelope was ivory.Thick.Deliberate.Sylvia placed it on my desk like she was setting down a dinner invitation instead of a detonation.“I had them drafted last night,” she said calmly.Last night.While our daughter was hooked to monitors.While I stood in a hospital hallway trying to keep our lives from imploding.“You move fast,” I said evenly.“I move smart.”She didn’t sit. She didn’t hesitate. She stood across from me in a tailored navy dress, hair flawless, expression serene.Too serene.“You’re filing,” I said, though it wasn’t a question.“Yes.”“Temporary custody too?”“Primary custody,” she corrected. “With supervised visitation until the court assesses emotional stability.”I stared at her.“Emotional stability?” I repeated.“You admitted you’re in love with another woman.”“I admitted I wasn’t in love with you.”“That’s not the same thing?” she asked, almost amused.My jaw tightened. “You’re being irrational.”She laughed softly.“No, Gabriel. I’m bein

Gabriel’s POV He didn’t flinch. He didn’t curse or panic. He simply closed the file in his hands, It was deliberate and quiet as though this were a boardroom negotiation instead of the slow unraveling of his family. “Forward me the entire thread,” he said calmly. Across the corridor, Sylvia’s attorney approached, stopping a few feet from us, he was close enough to establish presence, far enough to maintain decorum. “Mr. Vale,” he greeted smoothly. “Daniel.” “Thomas.” So. Names now. Thomas adjusted his cufflinks with measured ease. “My client believes transparency will expedite matters.” Daniel’s tone was light, but edged. “Transparency. Or intimidation?” Sylvia stepped beside her attorney then. She didn’t rush. She didn’t posture. She simply arrived composed, controlled. Her eyes flicked to the phone still in my hand. “You discussed the filing with a third party,” she said. “I vented.” “You strategized.” “I informed.” Thomas interjected, voice calm and clinical. “When cus

Gabriel’s POVThe house was quiet again.Not the peaceful kind of quiet. The heavy kind. The kind that sits on your chest.Sylvia liked silence. She said it helped her think. Said noise distracted from what mattered.Sienna used to say the opposite.“Why does this place always feel like a library?” she once laughed, turning the music up while I tried to finish emails at the dining table.I had frowned at her then.“I have work to do.”“You always have work to do,” she teased. “One day I’m going to schedule an appointment just to talk to my own husband.”I remember rolling my eyes.Now I’d give anything to hear her say that again.When I was married to Sienna, life wasn’t perfect. We argued about money. About timing. About whether I worked too much. But there was always space to breathe. If she was upset, she said it. If I was stressed, she asked why. We didn’t treat conversations like debates we had to win.With Sylvia, conversations feel different.Measured. Precise. Like tonight.Em