All Chapters of He Wants Me More After Divorce: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Lyndsey’s POVI stood at the window in the half-dark and watched the entrance to Harrison’s building and drank my tea and waited.The flat was small—a studio, two streets away, close enough that I could see his front door from this angle if I leaned slightly left. Half-unpacked boxes lined the walls. The bed was unmade. The kitchen counter held three mugs, all dirty, and a bag of prenatal vitamins I kept forgetting to take.I’d memorised his schedule. 7:40 he left, turned left toward the school. Back by six usually, sometimes later. Rarely went out again in the evenings.I opened the notebook—floral cover, bought from the stationery shop on the high street, the kind nobody would look twice at—and checked today’s page.Harrison’s movements on the left in blue ink. Estelle’s on the right in black. I knew where Estelle parked at the clinic, which entrance she used, which café she stopped at on Tuesdays. I knew Chloe had dance class on Wednesdays at four-fifteen at the studio on Marshall

Estelle’s POVChloe squirmed against me while Mrs. Farmer spoke in the unhurried way people spoke when they were being calm about something that terrified you.“We’ll review the CCTV footage from the east and south gates this afternoon,” she said reassuringly, folding her hands on the desk. “I’ll notify ground staff immediately, and we’ll increase visibility during break times. I want you to know we take this very seriously, Dr. Estelle.”“Thank you,” I said, and my voice came out smooth and level and completely detached from the rest of me, because my fingers were digging into Chloe’s arm hard enough that she twisted and whined.“Mama, ow, you’re hurting me—”“Sorry, baby, sorry.” I loosened my grip and Chloe wriggled free and slid off my lap, rubbing the red marks on her forearm with an annoyed scowl.“You ran into my classroom like something was chasing you,” she said accusingly. “Mrs. Falcon stopped talking and everyone looked at me and it was SO embarrassing.”“I know, sweetheart

Harrison’s POVI called Estelle from my car, still parked on the curb, still gripping the steering wheel with one hand.“The phone was traced near my mother’s house,” I said as soon as she picked up, “but it doesn’t fit. I got another call about Lucas—it came from a cell tower near my flat. Whoever made that call was standing practically outside my building.”“So it’s not your mother,” Estelle said slowly.“I confronted her this morning. She denied it and I…I think she was telling the truth. Her anger was real. No pauses, no deflecting—just fury that I’d accused her.”“Your mother has spent seven years proving she’s capable of anything, Harrison.”“This doesn’t feel like her. She operates through lawyers and social pressure and other people’s hands. This is…this feels different.”“Who else?” Estelle asked tightly.Neither of us said the name. The line hummed between us and I could hear her breathing and the faint sound of a tap running.“I’ll update you when Greaves has more,” I said.

Estelle’s POVI was late and Chloe was already out of the car.She’d unbuckled herself while I was still fumbling with the bag strap that had gotten tangled around the gear shift, and by the time I yanked it free and grabbed my keys and shoved the door open, she was ten paces ahead of me, her ponytail bouncing, her backpack sliding off one shoulder.“Chloe, wait for me!” I called, half-jogging across the car park, my bag swinging wildly against my hip. “Chloe, hold on, don’t go in without—”I looked up.Across the car park, near the cafeteria doors, a woman was crouched down at Chloe’s height.One hand rested on a visible bump, the other gesturing gently, warmly, and Chloe was standing right there listening with her head tilted the way she did when she was interested in something, not scared, not backing away, just curious and engaged.The woman was smiling at her.I started walking. Then faster. My bag swung out and caught on a pushchair handle and I yanked it free without stopping,

Harrison’s POVI got back to Lyndsey’s building at six that evening and Estelle was already there.She was pacing the pavement opposite the entrance, her arms wrapped tight around herself, her coat pulled close.She’d been watching the building. Of course she had.“She went in about an hour ago,” Estelle said before I could ask. “Lights came on, second floor, left-hand window. Hasn’t come out.”I looked at her and something passed across my face—a flicker I couldn’t control—before I nodded.She’d been here first. She’d been waiting for me.She’d come back on her own and stood on this pavement alone and watched because she couldn’t sit at home and do nothing while the woman who’d been stalking our children sat two streets away.“Let’s go,” I said.We went up together. I could hear Estelle’s breathing behind me, the way she breathed when she was keeping herself together by force.I knocked. No answer.I knocked harder—three sharp raps that cracked against the wood—and down the corridor