All Chapters of I don’t want him back: Divorcing the Billionaire: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

  Four's POV They wheeled Sophia away at 2:47 in the morning. I memorised the exact time because I needed something concrete to hold onto. Dr Walsh walked beside the gurney, her hand resting protectively on the plastic incubator. Veronica tried to follow but a nurse gently stopped her. We were not allowed in the operating room. We could only wait. The surgical waiting room was empty at this hour. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, too bright and too cold. Plastic chairs lined the walls in neat rows. A television mounted in the corner played silent news. Veronica sat down heavily, her c-section incision clearly painful though she would not admit it. I sat beside her and took her hand. We did not speak. There were no words adequate for this moment. Our four-pound daughter was having open-heart surgery. Surgeons would stop her heart, repair the hole, and restart it. She might not survive. The odds

Veronica's POVI watched Four fall apart slowly through the night. He sat beside Manuel's bed, holding that fragile hand, and spoke in a low voice that broke repeatedly. He thanked Manuel for everything. For saving him. For believing in him when no one else would. For showing him what a real father looked like. He apologised for not being enough, for not finding a way to save Manuel the way Manuel had saved him."You were always enough," I whispered, squeezing Four's shoulder. But he could not hear me through his grief.The hospice nurse checked Manuel's vitals every thirty minutes. His pulse was thready. His breathing was shallow and irregular. She told us he could hear us even if he could not respond. So Four kept talking, pouring out years of gratitude and love and pain.Around four in the morning, Manuel's breathing changed. The gaps between breaths grew longer. Twenty seconds. Thirty. Forty. Each time I thought it was the end and then he would gasp again, fighting to stay just a

Four's POVThe courtroom was smaller than I expected. Plain beige walls, fluorescent lights humming overhead, rows of empty benches behind us. Monte sat between Veronica and me, his legs swinging because they did not reach the floor. He wore the little suit Beverly had bought him for the occasion, navy blue with a red tie. He looked so grown up it made my chest tight.Judge Martinez reviewed the paperwork with practised efficiency. There were no objections because Jason was dead and his parents had no legal standing to block the adoption. Our lawyer had confirmed it twice. Still, my heart pounded as the judge looked up at us over her reading glasses."Monte," she said kindly. "Do you understand why you are here today?""Yes," Monte said clearly. "So Four can be my daddy for real.""He is not your daddy already?""He is," Monte said seriously. "But now it will be on paper too. So everyone knows."Judge Martinez smiled. "And you want this? You want Mr Lasombra to adopt you?""Yes," Mont

Chapter 208Four's POVElena and I had grown close in ways I never expected. After years of separation caused by our father's cruelty, we had rebuilt our sibling relationship from scratch. Weekly phone calls turned into monthly visits. She knew Monte and Sophia as her nephew and niece. Veronica and Elena had become genuine friends, bonding over surviving the Lasombra legacy in different ways.When Elena called asking me to walk her down the aisle, I had to sit down. The weight of what she was asking hit me all at once. Our father had destroyed any chance of giving her away at her wedding. He was dead, his empire dismantled, his memory a stain neither of us could fully erase. But Elena was choosing me to stand in that symbolic role because I represented what family could be when it tried to do better."Are you sure?" I asked, my voice rough with emotion."Completely sure," Elena said. "You are the family that chose to show up, Four. That matters more than biology or tradition. I want y

Chapter 210 Four's POV Nathan Graves was arrested for corruption. The words did not make sense at first. I stood in my office while the party continued beyond the door, Detective Rivera's voice coming through the phone explaining what had happened. The man who had tried to destroy me, who had manufactured evidence and orchestrated elaborate schemes to put me in prison, was now facing the same fate himself. "How long have you been investigating him?" I asked. "Two years," Rivera said. "Ever since your case.  Something about his methods bothered me. Too convenient how the evidence appeared. Too perfect. I started digging quietly and found a pattern. Graves has been taking bribes for over a decade, falsifying evidence, and planting witnesses. You were not his first victim, just his most high-profile." The room felt too small suddenly. All the fear and paran