All Chapters of His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Tears blurred my vision as I left the office and retreated to our bedroom. My heart felt heavy, yet strangely light. Seeing Declan finally reach out to Slade — witnessing that tentative bridge being built between father and son — felt like the beginning of something beautiful. It was a step toward the bond I had always hoped for, a healing of the past that we so desperately needed. I slipped into our bathroom. Slade had recently remodeled the space, replacing the old bathtub with a luxurious hot tub. He had told me the previous tub made the room feel cramped, so he had it removed entirely. Now, the bathroom stretched open and airy, an oasis of polished marble and soft steam. The glass shower stood to one side, sleek and modern, while the hot tub sat like a centerpiece, surrounded by space that allowed the room to breathe. I had already heated the water, the jets churning into a frothy, inviting swirl. A few drops of sandalwood and vanilla — our favo

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * By morning, the mourners had already begun to arrive. Aunt Rose, Emilia, and the children came early. Cale and Abbie were there too, and though the mansion was vast, it felt increasingly crowded with every passing hour. Miranda remained in Beatrice’s bedroom, receiving guests by her side, while Slade had retreated into the silence of the study, locking himself away from the world. Abbie was a lifesaver, helping me coordinate the house staff as we managed the influx of guests. I felt a surge of relief when I saw Barbara walk in; I was grateful not only for the extra help but for the presence of my best friend. I watched as Aaron began to move toward her, his intention clear, but Barbara caught his eye and immediately looked away. She ignored him with a cool, deliberate indifference, pivoting toward Cale and Orrick instead. She threw her arms around Orrick in a warm, lingering hug, and I saw Aaron’s jaw tighten before he turned and walked straight out of

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Beatrice was laid to rest in the Pierce family plot, placed right next to Jacob in a grave of fresh earth. The sight of their names together — the two giants who had built and ruled — felt like the final closing of a heavy iron book. As we returned to the mansion, the air felt thick with a finality that none of us knew how to carry. Slade didn’t stop to greet anyone; he headed straight for our bedroom. Aunt Rose and I retreated to the kitchen. “I just don’t know what to do for him anymore,” I whispered, leaning my elbows on the cold marble of the kitchen island. My chest felt tight, a constant, dull ache that throbbed every time I thought of the hollow look in his eyes. Aunt Rose didn’t say a word at first; she simply moved, setting the kettle to boil and preparing a pot of strong coffee. “Just give him space, Rachel. He will come through, but right now, he’s dealing,” she said. She finally sat down across from me, handing me a steaming mug before

* RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW * Aurelia and Rick had already slipped out, followed closely by Cale and Abbie. The mansion had finally begun to settle into a quiet hum. I remained at the kitchen island, idly scrolling through a game on my phone, but my focus was entirely on the doorway. I was waiting for Barbara. When she finally walked in, she looked radiant — far too radiant. Her hair was a little too tousled, her cheeks carried a persistent rosy flush, and her lips looked slightly swollen and bitten. She had that unmistakable, dazed glow of someone who had just stepped out of a very different kind of celebration. “Oh, hey, Rachel,” she said, her voice sounding a little too light, a little too happy. She headed straight for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water and fumbling for a glass. I pressed the power button on my phone, the screen going black, and just watched her. She caught me staring — longer than was strictly polite — and quickly gulped down half the bottle as if she

RACHEL’S POINT OF VIEW I let Aaron lead me onto the yacht, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t anxious; the sheer scale of the surprise made my head spin. But then I caught sight of Slade standing just beyond the glass doors inside the yacht, his figure visible through the clear panels, and the sight of him acted like an anchor, pulling me back to calm. Aaron guided me up the final step and toward the glass doors, and as they slid open, we stepped inside, the soft hum of the yacht wrapping around us. “Thank you, Aaron,” he said firmly, with a glass of vintage wine in his hand. With a respectful nod, Aaron retreated, leaving us in a heavy, beautiful silence. I walked straight into his arms, burying my face in his chest. The familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around me, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my ear finally stilled my shaking hands. “What are we doing here, Slade?” “We are getting married,” he sai