All Chapters of Reborn: Not Your Wife Anymore!: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Lucy HaleElias didn’t raise his voice.He didn’t need to.He simply stood there, tall and still.His gaze fixed on the driver with a calm intensity that felt heavier than rage ever could.“Explain,” Elias uttered, demanding in his tone.Just a word.The driver swallowed.Up close, I could see the tension crawl up his neck, his earlier arrogance evaporating into mist under the sunlight. His shoulders stiffened, his hands clenched and unclenched by his sides.“There was a misunderstanding,” he pressed, his tone suddenly respectful. My lips curled in disgust. It’s unbelievable, he was very much disrespectful to us earlier. It seemed he did know his place.“The road was crowded. The brake is—”Elias tilted his head slightly.“The road was clear,” he replied evenly. “And the damage suggests you failed to maintain a safe distance.”Silence.I watched the realization dawn in the driver’s eyes.Then, my gaze shifted towards Elias. It was admiring and refreshing to see how composed someone

Lucy HaleI stiffened. “What do you mean?”The moment the door closed behind Elias, the silence felt heavier.Mia turned toward me slowly, her eyes narrowing with concern, albeit a bit suspicious. The kind that had always made me aware of myself.She always knew.“Lucy,” she uttered the word carefully, as though she was baiting a cat with a fish.“What's wrong with you?”“Nothing’s wrong with me. I'm fine.” I feigned ignorance.She crossed her arms, leaning against the wardrobe cabinet. “You’ve been acting strange. Ever since those two came into the shop.” She nodded towards the door.My fingers tightened around the hanger I was holding. “I’m just tired.”“That’s not it.”I glanced at her, forcing a small laugh. “You’re overthinking.”Mia didn’t laugh back.“This place,” she continued quietly, “it’s like it’s doing something to you.”Her eyebrow raised. “You went pale the moment we stepped inside. And back at the boutique you even froze. You never freeze.”I swallowed. “It’s just ne

Lucy HaleI should’ve known Adrian wouldn’t let the night pass quietly.I heaved a sigh, relieving my nerves.My feet felt heavy even more as my steps brought me closer to him.Many thoughts blinked in my mind.Yet none could finalize why he had called for me amongst other distinguished guests. What more business does he have with me?I thought everything will be settled after this night ends.Then why was it too difficult for me to release myself from his tangled?“Lucy.” He smiled, seeing me approaching.I nodded, the knot turned in my stomach, heavier than it already was.Adrian stood beside his parents, his expression composed. “Mother, father,” he continued smoothly, gesturing toward me. “This is Lucy.”My chest tightened.“She’s the one who had tailored my suit,” his gaze stilled towards me. “She did excellent work.” His voice was proud.For a split second, I was almost relieved.No vague intimacy.Just work.Mrs Hawthorne smiled warmly. “Then we must thank you. He looks very

Seven Years AgoElias WardMy hand trembled, eyes stilled on the coffin being lowered underground.The sound of earth hitting polished wood was dull, obscene in how ordinary it was. The Hawthorne family stood tall and composed, grief worn in gloomy dark clothes.Lucy Hawthorne was dead.The words refused to settle in my chest. They scraped instead, carving rawly in my lung. I stared at the name engraved on the plate, at the dates that make no sense.My mind rebelled.This was wrong.She shouldn’t be here.She should be out there, laughing and smiling freely, not caring a thing about the world.I remembered the first time we met at the Hawthorne family event.Grand, suffocating in wealth. Adrian had been glowing with pride when he introduced her, his hand resting possessively at the small of her back.“This is Lucy,” he’d smirked. She smiled at me then. Not the practiced smile everyone usually wore at those events, albeit a genuine one. One too soft, a little shy, eyes bright wi

Lucy HaleMia had been talking about the pistachio cake for three days straight.“It’s everywhere online,” she whined while sorting invoices, eyes shining despite the growing pile of work. “They say it sells out before noon. Soft inside, crunchy outside, real pistachio paste and the cake is also so spongy.”I smiled at her enthusiasm. “We can go there during lunch.”She sighed, already knowing the answer. “Mrs Claire just gave me additional work. I won’t make it.”There was a pause. Then she looked up at me hopefully.“You’ll help me buy it, right?”I laughed, finding her antics entertaining. “Of course.”And that was how I found myself walking alone toward the café during lunch hour.The late morning sun was warm on my shoulders.The street was lively, filled with chatter and the smell of roasted coffee beans drifting through the air.The café was just as Mia described.It was bright, crowded, almost too popular for its own good. People queued near the counter, phones out, snapping