บททั้งหมดของ His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife: บทที่ 181 - บทที่ 190

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * We reached home, and as we stepped inside, the atmosphere was thick with the warmth of a story in progress. Aunt Rose was in the living room, surrounded by the twins, Heidi, and Emilia. They were completely mesmerized, leaning in close as she wove a tale that I was certain was about the sun-drenched hills of Sicily. Aunt Rose has always been a natural storyteller; she has a way of making you feel the sea breeze and taste the lemons just by the way she describes them. Slade headed upstairs, with Aaron following close behind to discuss some business, leaving me to join the family circle. I clapped my hands once, and it was like a spell had been broken. Everyone seemed to zoom out of the Sicilian countryside and back into the living room as they noticed me standing there. The twins’ faces lit up with pure joy as they rushed me, their small arms wrapping around me in a coordinated attack of affection. I laughed, leaning down to peck each of their soft chee

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Throughout the day, I couldn't shake Barbara's word — that Aurelia had 22 tattooed on her skin. I kept telling myself it could be anything. A date. A lucky number. Anything but Slade’s. But the thought still lingered — Aurelia carrying a permanent mark of Slade on her body. My husband. I knew it shouldn't bother me. We had an understanding, and I had already accepted that she was the mother of his first child. But logic is a poor shield against the sting of possessive instinct. Even when Slade returned home, my mind was miles away, and he noticed the shift in my energy immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling me into a cuddle on the bed. “I’m thinking of getting a tattoo...” I said, propping my elbow on his chest and looking up at him, searching for a reaction. “Why?” he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Maybe a tattoo of our names on my back,” I blurted softly, the words escaping before I could filter them. The way his eyes

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * The lunch turned out exactly as I had feared — only worse. I sat there with a heavy weight in my chest, wishing I had never suggested this in the first place. The air in the dining room felt suffocating, thick with unspoken words and Declan’s sharp, pointed barbs. It was my fault; I had tried to do something noble, to build a bridge, and instead, I had only provided the matches for someone to burn it down. Once the meal was over, I began clearing the table, my movements mechanical. Heidi joined me, quietly helping me stack the porcelain plates stained with remnants of the herb-crusted steak and roasted vegetables. Aurelia stood nearby, stealing glances at me from under her lashes. She looked like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the right opening. Slade had already retreated upstairs to his office with Declan, likely attempting to have a conversation that didn’t involve an audience. “Rachel…” Aurelia started as I headed into the kitchen. She follo

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Later that night, after the children were tucked in and Slade had retreated to his office, I found myself on the balcony. I sat on the wooden bench, soft pillows tucked behind my back as I pulled one knee up to my chest, with a thriller resting in my lap. A small table sat next to me, holding a steaming cup of coffee and a ceramic pot of night-blooming jasmine that perfumed the air. I tried to focus on the pages, but my gaze kept drifting to the vast, star-speckled sky. My mind was a whirlwind. The lunch, the tattoo, Declan — it was all so much. I closed my eyes and whispered a silent hope that everything was finally moving in the direction it was supposed to. The soft scuff of footsteps on the floor made me look up. I expected to see Slade coming to find me, but instead, it was Aunt Rose. She looked smaller than usual, her frame wrapped in a thick, quilted robe. “I thought you were already asleep,” I said softly. “No,” she sighed, sitting beside me.

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Slade, Luca, and I sat in the living room, the tension so thick it felt like a noose tightening around us. Luca reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a silver cigarette case, tapping a filtered tip against his thumb. He went to reach for a lighter, his movements practiced and restless, but he didn't even get the flame struck. “I would appreciate it if you put that back. Smoking isn’t allowed in this house,” Slade said, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone. Luca paused, the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as he locked eyes with Slade. It was a clash of two different kinds of power — Slade’s polished, corporate authority versus Luca’s untamed, lethal energy from the underworld. They stared each other down for a heartbeat too long, neither willing to blink, until I broke the silence. “There are children in the house, Luca,” I said softly but firmly. Luca sighed, the defiance leaving his shoulders as he tucked the cigarette back