Todos los capítulos de He Wants Me More After Divorce: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Lyndsey’s POVI was standing in front of my closet holding up two blouses—the cream silk or the navy wrap—when my phone started going off on the dresser.I ignored it at first. Probably the group chat arguing about where to eat lunch again, but it kept going, vibrating so continuously against the wood that it started sliding toward the edge, and I tossed the blouses onto the bed and grabbed it before it fell.The screen was covered in notifications, all of them flooding in on top of each other so fast I couldn’t read any individual one before the next pushed it down.I squinted at the preview text of the first message, from my friend Natasha: Lyndsey WHAT is this?? Did you actually write this??Then from Caroline: I can’t believe you would do something like this. I’m honestly in shock.Then from a professional contact I’d worked with last year: This is deeply disappointing. I trusted your judgment.My thumb was shaking as I opened TikTok, because that’s where most of the notifications

Harrison’s POVLyndsey looked at Claire and her whole face crumpled—the last person she’d trusted choosing someone else, the pattern repeating—and she let out an ugly sob that I felt somewhere behind my ribs despite everything.“Where am I supposed to go?” she whispered desperately. “I don’t have anyone—I’ve spent seven years here, I gave up everything for this family—”“Your parents have a house,” I said flatly. “Your friends have spare rooms. You’ll manage.”“But Lucas—I’ve been part of his life since he was a baby, you can’t just—”“You used Lucas as an excuse to stay close to me,” I said, and she recoiled as if I’d slapped her. “That ends now. Today.”She stood there shaking for another few seconds, her phone still ringing in her hand, tears dripping off her jaw onto the carpet.Then she spun on her heel and stormed out, slamming the bedroom door so hard a picture frame rattled against the wall.Mother hadn’t moved from the doorway.“We need to discuss how we handle the fallout,”

Estelle’s POVI parked in the underground garage and took the service elevator straight up. The children were still humming fragments of the country song as they piled out, and I pulled the wig off and shook my hair loose once the elevator doors closed behind us.Lucas stared at me, his eyes going round. “Why were you wearing a wig?”“Just playing around,” I said lightly, stuffing it into my bag.“Cool,” Lucas said agreeably, and that was the end of it.Inside the apartment, the children claimed the living room floor within thirty seconds. Chloe had already dumped half a craft store onto the carpet. Both of them sat cross-legged in the middle of the mess, completely at home in it.Chloe took charge immediately, sorting materials into neat piles and assigning tasks.“Okay, Lucas, you do the coral drawings because yours are better, and I’ll do the labels and the writing because my handwriting is neater.”“Your handwriting is NOT neater,” Lucas protested indignantly.“It is so. Mrs. Falco

Estelle’s POVFor a few seconds I just sat there with no expression on my face at all because nothing was computing. Then understanding hit me and I made a sound I’d never heard come out of my own mouth before, halfway between a gasp and a retch, and I clamped my hand over my lips.“No,” I managed weakly. “No, she didn’t. She wouldn’t…even Lyndsey wouldn’t—”“She did. She wrote that you’d been predatory toward an underage girl. Posted it on a forum where other doctors would see it.”I couldn’t feel my face. I lifted my hand and touched my own cheek and couldn’t feel my fingers making contact.“She accused me of…she said I was a…”“I know.”“Harrison, I treat children. I’m a paediatric specialist, I hold babies, I sit with sick kids for hours, I—”I had to stop because I was going to hyperventilate. I pressed both hands over my mouth and breathed through my fingers and tried very hard not to scream.“If a single parent had seen that. If one person at Chloe’s school had—”“It didn’t spr

Estelle’s POVAfter dinner, the children wanted a movie. They argued for three minutes—Chloe wanted something animated, Lucas wanted Harry Potter—and compromised on Harry Potter because Chloe loved it too.They claimed opposite ends of the sofa with a blanket stretched between them, and Harrison and I ended up in the middle because there was nowhere else to sit. His thigh pressed against mine and I could feel his body heat through the denim.I kept my eyes fixed on the screen and my breathing even.Neither of us watched the movie. I was aware of every place our bodies touched—his knee, his shoulder, the side of his arm—and I was thinking about the hotel room and the car and how easy it would be to turn my head two inches and—Lucas fell asleep first, his head dropping back against the cushion, his mouth open. Chloe followed fifteen minutes later, curling onto her side, the blanket pulled to her chin.The movie kept playing. We sat in silence with two sleeping children between us.“Did