All Chapters of His Forgotten Love Returns: The Return of the Ex-wife: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

* BARBIE'S POINT OF VIEW * “I grew up in a house without a father, and my mother was a prostitute. I spent my childhood watching men come and go through our front door every single day. She didn't feed me, she didn't care if I was breathing, and I was mostly a ghost in my own home. Then, one day, I overheard her negotiating with a man… she was going to sell me off. So, I ran.” Silence fell between us, as my chest felt tight, like I couldn’t pull in enough air. I didn’t know what to say — how do you respond to a lifetime of pain like that? He wasn’t just the man sitting in front of me anymore. He was that little boy — hungry, unwanted, running for his life. And it scared me… how much I cared. I looked into his eyes and saw a raw, ragged pain… “Aaron…” I whispered, my heart breaking for that little boy. “I jumped from one hell straight into another,” he continued, his voice tight. “Living on the streets, fighting for scraps, until a man approached me. He promised me a job that c

* BARBIE'S POINT OF VIEW * I didn’t say a word. I just turned and headed for the exit, the sharp, rhythmic click-clack of her designer heels following me out like the final seconds before an explosion. I refused to make a scene inside; I loved my job too much to let the staff witness the version of myself that Tinker brings out. She’s the only person on earth who can summon my worst side — the side of me that is raw, bitter, and ready to draw blood. I stopped once we were far enough from the entrance, though still within the hospital grounds, and spun around to face her. “You’re still as prickly and plain as ever, Barbie,” she said, her voice dripping with artificial pity. “Some people deserve the thorns, Tinker. Now, tell me what the fuck you want. I know you didn’t travel all this way just to check on my health. Whenever you show up, you’re looking for something.” “No, I truly just wanted to see you,” she lied, casually lifting her hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind he

* BARBIE'S POINT OF VIEW *“What exactly do you want to know, Barbie?” he asked, with a curious glint in his eyes.“How the calls are made,” I said, resting my chin on my hand. “The logistics of it.”“Want me to call Memphis and have him walk you through it?” he teased.“No! Why would you even say that? Fine, don’t tell me then,” I said, feigning a pout and crossing my arms over my chest.He chuckled, reaching out to catch my hand again. “There was always a waiting list. Hundreds of women, sometimes. I’d choose a specific number each day — maybe the top ten or fifteen, depending on what my mood could handle. I’d initiate the call through a private line built directly into the website. It felt like a real conversation, not just a transaction.”I nodded, my mind spinning. So he was in control. He sat and chose who got a piece of him.“The client could choose to let me see them if they wanted to,” he continued.“Wait — so you could see them, but they had the choice to stay hidden?”He n

* BARBIE'S POINT OF VIEW * I used every ounce of strength I had to shove Tyler back. Before he could regain his balance, I swung and slapped him so hard my palm stung. “Don’t you ever dare touch me again! Get out!” I screamed. Silence followed. It was thick and oppressive. Tyler stood there, stunned, glancing between Aaron and me. Aaron didn't move an inch; he just stood there, his expression unreadable, but his presence felt like a storm ready to break. Neither of them said a word. Finally, Tyler realized he had lost this round. He turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. “I’m going to go grab my coat,” I said, my voice shaking. I hurried back to the bedroom, half-expecting Aaron to follow me and demand to know who that was or why he was holding me. But he didn't. The silence coming from the living room was almost worse than an interrogation. I grabbed my coat and purse, my mind still reeling, my hands trembling as we left. We reached the Grand

* BARBIE'S POINT OF VIEW * I ended up exactly where I swore I’d never be again. I sat rigidly in the cold, sterile reclining chair of the private clinic, my arm extended as the doctor inserted the needle. I watched, detached and hollow, as my life force began to fill yet another plastic bag for Tinker’s "bank." The deep crimson liquid pulsed with every heartbeat, a steady reminder that, to my family, I was nothing more than a biological resource. As the bag grew heavier, a sharp, thudding headache began to bloom behind my eyes. A dull, pulling ache radiated from the puncture site up to my shoulder, and a wave of cold nausea washed over me, making the fluorescent lights above flicker with a sickening intensity. “You know, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have fought it at all,” Tyler said, leaning against the counter and watching the bag fill with a look of pure satisfaction. “You ended up giving me exactly what I wanted in the beginning. You could have saved us both the drama.” He t