All Chapters of He Wants Me More After Divorce: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

Harrison’s POVEstelle’s jaw shifted slightly.She crossed her arms over her chest, the sweatshirt bunching at her elbows. The motion pushed her breasts up and I looked up, trying my best to look into her eyes instead.“Right,” she said quietly.“I need to go.”“I know you do.”I opened my mouth.There were things I wanted to say—explanations, reassurances, something about how I knew this looked, how I knew what she was watching me do, how going to a woman who had stalked our children while she stood barefoot in a doorway was not what either of us would have chosen.“Don’t,” Estelle said gently.I shut my mouth.She unfolded her arms and rested one hand on the doorframe. Her thumb rubbed slowly along the wood, back and forth, a small unconscious movement.“I’ve got him,” she said simply.I nodded. My throat had gone thick and I didn’t trust myself to speak without my voice doing something embarrassing. I turned toward the stairs.“Harrison.”I stopped. I looked back.She hadn’t moved

Harrison’s POVLyndsey grip on my forearm loosened slightly. A small, jerky movement.“Lyndsey,” Helena said firmly. “Look at me.”She turned her head slowly. Her eyes found her mother’s.“Fifteen minutes,” she said. “That’s all. The ambulance is coming.”Lyndsey nodded.“Can you move?” I asked.She shook her head.“That’s fine. You stay where you are.”Helena sat there for exactly one second, taking it all in—her daughter on the floor, the shattered glass, the knocked table, me on my knees with Lyndsey’s hand locked around my arm.“Towels,” I said sharply over Lyndsey’s head. “And a pillow.”Helena finally stood and vanished through the broken doorway. She came back thirty seconds later with both and handed them through the doorway without stepping into the room.I worked the pillow behind Lyndsey’s lower back, easing her away from the hard edge of the bed frame. She whimpered when I shifted her, a high, thin sound that caught in her throat.“Sorry,” I murmured. “I know. Just a secon

Harrison’s POVThe plastic chair had a crack running through the seat. I’d been tracing it with my thumbnail for what might have been an hour.I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there. The corridor seemed to exist outside of normal time.There were no windows and no clocks on the wall. A vending machine about twenty feet to my left vibrated just low enough to sit beneath my notice until everything else went quiet, and then it became the only sound in the world.My shirt was untucked on one side. My jacket hung over the back of the chair beside me, crumpled, one sleeve dragging the floor.I flexed my right hand and the knuckles lit up.A scrape ran across the first two, raw and pinkish, the skin torn in a shallow diagonal I didn’t remember getting.The fire extinguisher.The second or third swing, probably, when I’d adjusted my grip and the cylinder had shifted against my fingers.My shoulders ached from the base of my neck down to the middle of my back.I hadn’t eaten since the p

Harrison’s POVMy hands didn’t press against the glass.They stayed where they were, shoved into my pockets, passive and uninvolved.My focus kept sliding—to the monitor with its green heartbeat line, to the nurse inside the NICU adjusting an IV on a different baby, to my own face reflected dimly in the glass, superimposed over the incubator like a ghost watching from outside a room it couldn’t enter.What I felt was tired.Not the manageable kind where you want coffee and a sit-down. The kind that doesn’t just want sleep—it wants to stop. To step out of my own body and leave it draped over a chair somewhere while I went and was nothing for eight or ten hours.My legs ached from the knees down and my eyes burned, a dry gritty burning that no amount of blinking could fix.I’d been running on adrenaline since Helena’s phone call.The car, and the motorway at ninety miles an hour. The estate with every window blazing, and the fire extinguisher I swung three times until the lock splintere

Harrison’s POVHelena’s fingers shifted on the handbag strap.“I beg your pardon?” she said stiffly.“My mother,” I said. “That’s what this is about. Its not the agreement or the money or even the baby.”A stiffening that ran through her shoulders and down her spine, a half-second tightening of everything before she controlled it and brought herself back to normal.“You’ve watched her for years,” I said. “You knew the background was fake. You knew and you said nothing because the social arrangement was useful. Your daughter gets access to Harrison Emerson’s money and name. Claire gets the Donovan lineage to make her fiction look real. Everybody wins.”I shook my head slowly.“But now your daughter is alone and pregnant and you found her in a flat with cameras and notebooks, and suddenly the woman you were perfectly happy to do business with is someone you need to destroy.”“She weaponized my daughter,” Helena said sharply.“I know she did.”“She took a girl who was desperate for love