《His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife》全部章節：第 131 章 - 第 140 章

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * I decided to just send him a message asking him to call me; I was tired of calling. I walked into the house, having had to call an Uber to pick me up from the company since he had Simon. I heard music coming from the kitchen and wondered what was going on as I heard the kids and Emilia singing along — sounding so happy. Hearing them brought a sudden, warm relief to my chest, a stark contrast to the cold paranoia that had been clawing at me all afternoon. It was the sound of safety. I walked into the kitchen and saw the kids dancing with wild abandon, while Heidi and Emilia stood at the island counter cutting vegetables. The kids didn’t even notice me come in, completely concentrated on their chaotic dance moves. Then Emilia looked up, saw me, and quickly pressed pause on the small speaker system. Everyone turned to look at me, and the kids hurried over to hug me. I caught them in my arms, and my bruised heart immediately healed; the pure, uncondition

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW *I looked up at him; there was no way out without spilling my guts to him. But what if he lies to me? Though… I would know if he did.“Where were you yesterday?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. My blue eyes buried themselves in his amber ones, searching for any sign of deception.“Is this going to be an interrogation? You never used to ask me where I was,” he said, looking slightly affronted.“Just answer the question,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.“At the hospital. I went to the hospital,” he replied.He wasn’t lying — but who was he with?Before I could ask, he continued.“I was with Cale… you can ask him too. And if you think he’d lie for me, just know it’s true because you called him yesterday. He didn’t answer because his phone was on vibration mode. And I met with Aurelia as well, and I also saw Declan — the son,” he blurted out.He isn’t lying either…Embarrassment and shame enveloped me as I turned bright red. Why would I suspect h

* SLADE’S POINT OF VIEW * Rachel hurried to put on her bra. As she buttoned her shirt, the office bell rang again — and it wouldn’t stop. Whoever was pressing it was enjoying it like a child who had just discovered a new toy and didn’t care about the noise they were making. I walked to the door, unlocking it to give the person a piece of my mind. But as I opened it, I was surprised to see who stood on the other side. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Beatrice walked into the office, her heels clicking against the floor, a small-size designer handbag in her hand. She came prepared. “Ohh, I guess father and son aren’t much different. And I think you should button your shirt properly, young lady,” Beatrice said to Rachel, having noticed she’d mistakenly buttoned a top button into the wrong hole in her hurry. Rachel’s face turned bright red, her hands trembling as she tried to fix the chaotic mess of fabric. “I asked you a question, Beatrice. What are you doing here?” I repeate

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * We arrived at the restaurant in silent tension, the air in the car so thick it was hard to breathe. The only sound was the low hum of the air conditioning, magnifying the unspoken battle between Slade and his mother. As we stepped out, I realized it was an incredibly lavish five-star restaurant, its exterior designed with sleek modern glass and perfectly manicured gardens. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Beatrice Pierce. She could very well be rubbing it in my face, highlighting the immense gap between her world and my modest one. Slade’s fingers locked into mine again, grounding me. His warm, firm grip was a stark contrast to the cold fear freezing my blood. “You know you can let her go, right?” Beatrice said, her voice dripping with malice. “Or is she afraid she might run away? Or perhaps she’ll get lost?” she added, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. Slade ignored her and walked inside, still holding my hand, as she followed behind

* SLADE’S POINT OF VIEW * I arrived at the mansion, stepped out of the car, and headed inside, where I found one of the maids. “Where is Beatrice?” I asked. “She went out, and she hasn't returned yet,” she replied. That’s a fucking lie, her car is outside. “Sir… she’s out in the garden,” another maid said, popping her head out so I could see her. I went out and strolled back to the garden. It had been a while since I visited that place—one of my favorites as a child—where I could be myself. I remembered hiding in the bushes, dreaming of escaping this place, and the time I spent here with Miranda felt like a distant, happier life. Before I even walked in, I saw the trees I used to climb, their branches thick and sturdy, reaching toward the sky like old friends welcoming me back. I walked in under the stone archway, completely overgrown with creeping vines and white roses, making the entrance look like something out of a fairytale. I saw her sitting on the bench, thro