All Chapters of Dear Ex, See you never: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

116 Chapters

the truth shared

Damon's POVI come home shattered. The drive from the hospital is a blur, I remember red lights and the ache in my chest and the way my hands won't stop shaking on the steering wheel. By the time I pull into the mansion's driveway, I'm barely holding myself together. The mask I've worn my entire life is cracking, and I don't have the strength to repair it.Millicent and Mike are waiting in the foyer when I walk through the door. They must have seen the car approach on the security cameras, must have known something was wrong by the way I was driving. Their faces are tight with concern, their bodies angled toward me like they're ready to catch me if I fall.I might fall."Damon." Millicent moves first, reaching for me, her hand warm on my arm. "What happened? Is Vivian, ""She's alive. Still." The words come out rough, scraped raw. "But she's fading. Days now, maybe. The doctors said..."I can't finish. Mike steps forward, his eyes searching my face, seeing everything I'm trying to hi

the stalker reveal

Millicent's POVI notice the car for the first time on a Tuesday. It's parked across from the studio when I arrive in the morning, a nondescript sedan, dark blue, with nothing memorable about it except that I've never seen it on this street before. I dismiss it as coincidence since plenty of people park in this neighborhood, but it's there again when I leave.I find it there still the next morning, and the one after that. By Thursday, I'm paying more attention. I begin to note the license plate, the tinted windows that make it impossible to see the driver or anyone in it, the way it always seems to be positioned with a clear view of the studio entrance. When I walk to the coffee shop two blocks away, the car follows at a careful distance.I know now that someone is watching me.The realization sits heavy in my chest, and it’s cold and familiar. I know this feeling, the prickling awareness of being observed, the sense that someone is tracking your every movements without your consent.

the planned confrontation

Millicent's POVThe investigation takes two weeks, two weeks that feels like forever. Two weeks of security details and careful movements and the constant low-grade anxiety of knowing someone is watching. Two weeks of Damon's people digging through shell companies and financial records and the labyrinthine structures that wealthy people use to hide their activities.Finally, an answer."It's both," the investigator says during our briefing. "Crane Enterprises is funding the surveillance operation, but they're using information provided by a third party. Someone who knows your schedule, your habits, and your vulnerabilities.""Brian," I yell. But it's not a question, it’s a confirmation. One I’ve had since the beginning."Brian Vel has been in regular contact with an attorney who works for Crane. He's been providing details about your marriage, your studio, your son. Nothing really illegal, and he's not violating any custody agreements or restraining orders, but he's clearly cooperati

the charity gala

Millicent's POVThe ballroom is everything I expected and nothing I'm prepared for. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light across five hundred of the city's most influential people, all dressed in designer gowns and custom tuxedos, all holding champagne flutes and making small talk about charitable giving and tax deductions. The children's education foundation we're supporting tonight is a worthy cause, scholarships for underprivileged students, tutoring programs, after-school resources. But I'm not thinking about any of that, I'm thinking about Brian.He's here. I spotted him the moment we walked through the doors, thinner than I remember, his suit hanging loose on a frame that's clearly been ravaged by alcohol and stress. He's standing near the bar, of course, already holding a drink that isn't his first. His hair is uncombed, his eyes are bloodshot, and his posture slouched in a way that would have horrified the man he used to be.Good. Let him look like what he's become. Damon's ha

the response

Millicent's POV I don't yell. That's the first thing people will remember later, when they recount this moment to friends and family and anyone who will listen. I don't yell, I don't cry, I don't raise my voice or lose my composure or give Brian any single reaction he can use against me. I speak clearly, calmly, and loud enough for the cameras to catch every word. "Brian Vel was my husband for two years," I begin. "In that time, I learned what it means to be controlled by someone who claims to love you." I feel Damon behind me, solid and supportive, but I don't look at him. My eyes are fixed on Brian's face, watching his expression shift from triumph to confusion. "He controlled what I wore, what I ate, who I saw and when I saw them. He monitored my phone, my emails, my bank accounts and he told me my photography was a hobby that would never amount to anything, and then he systematically undermined every opportunity I had to prove him wrong." "That's not, " Brian starts. "I'm

the aftermath

Millicent's POVThe fallout begins before we even leave the gala. By the time Damon's car pulls away from the venue, my phone is buzzing with notifications, texts, emails, and social media alerts flooding in faster than I can process. Mike is sitting on my other side, takes the phone from my trembling hands and starts scrolling through the chaos."The video's already viral," he says quietly. "It has multiple angles. Someone titled it 'Billionaire's Wife Exposes Abusive Ex at Charity Gala.' It's trending."I close my eyes, and I’m suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline that carried me through the confrontation is draining away, leaving behind a bone-deep weariness."What are people saying?" I ask, not sure I want to know."Mostly support." Mike's voice is surprised. "A lot of support, actually. Women sharing their own stories in the comments. People thanking you for speaking up."I open my eyes and take the phone back. The screen is a blur of notifications, but as I scroll through them, p

the decision

Millicent's POVKent Henry's estate makes Damon's mansion look like a guest house. I pull through the gates, massive wrought iron, flanked by stone lions that probably cost more than my first apartment, and drive up a road that winds through acres of manicured grounds. There are gardens I can see in the distance, what looks like a stable complex, a lake with a small boathouse. The main house rises ahead like something out of a period film: Georgian architecture, with dozens of windows, and ivy climbing the walls in carefully controlled patterns.This could have been my life. The thought hits me as I park in the circular drive, as a uniformed staff member appears to take my keys, as I'm escorted through a foyer with ceilings three stories high. If Kent Henry had fought for me, If my mother had made different choices, If anyone, at any point in the past thirty-two years, had decided that I mattered enough to claim.I could have grown up here, running through these halls, learning to r

the mother confronted

Millicent's POVThe drive to my mother's house takes forty-five minutes so I have forty-five minutes to rehearse what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it, and what questions I need answered before I can move forward. It’s forty-five minutes of remembering every time she poured another drink instead of having a real conversation, every time she dismissed my questions about my father with vague half-truths, every time she let me believe I came from nothing.I wasn't nothing. I was the daughter of a billionaire and she let me spend thirty-two years never knowing.June's house is the same as always, a small ranch in a neighborhood that's seen better days, lawn overgrown with paint peeling on the shutters. I park in the cracked driveway and sit for a moment, gathering courage.When I knock, she answers faster than I expected and she's surprisingly sober.That's the first thing I notice. Her eyes are clear, her posture is steady, and her face showing the full weight of her sixty year

the announcement

Millicent's POVThe press conference is held at Kent Henry's corporate headquarters, a gleaming tower downtown that bears his name in letters three stories tall. The irony isn't lost on me: I'm about to be publicly claimed by a man whose name I've walked past a thousand times without knowing it belonged to my father.The room is packed with reporters from every major outlet, cameras from network news and photographers jostling for position near the stage. Kent's PR team has orchestrated everything down to the minute, the timing of our entrance, the arrangement of the podium, and the lighting that will make us look like what we're supposed to be: a father and daughter reunited after several years apart.I stand in a back room, waiting for my cue while trying to remember how to breathe."You don't have to do this."Damon's voice comes from the doorway. He's not supposed to be here, we agreed it would look better if I stood on my own without the complication of another billionaire at m

the fallout

Millicent's POVThe media frenzy doesn't end after the press conference instead, It intensifies. For the first week, I try to maintain some semblance of normalcy. I wake up, eat breakfast with Damon and Mike, drive to the studio, work with clients, and then I come home. The routine that's sustained me for months, the rhythm that made this strange life feel manageable.But nothing is normal anymore, not since I announced my linage in front of the world. Reporters camp outside the mansion gates, their cameras pointed at every car that enters or leaves. I've counted as many as fifteen vans on a single morning, their satellite dishes pointed skyward, their crews drinking coffee and watching for any sign of movement. They shout questions when my car passes, "Mrs. Hale! Mrs. Hale! How does it feel to be Kent Henry's daughter?", their voices a chorus of demands that blurs into white noise.The studio is worse, they've figured out where I work, and now I need security just to walk from my

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