Semua Bab THE BARREN EX-WIFE WHO CAME BACK: Bab 11 - Bab 20

VANESSA'S POV Nicholas waited for my answer, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made the air feel thick. "Can you control yourself around me, Vanessa?" he asked again, and this time his voice dropped even lower—darker, more dangerous. He took a step closer. Then another. Until he was close enough that I could smell his cologne—something expensive and masculine that made my head spin. He was close enough that I had to tilt my head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "Because if you can't..." Nicholas leaned in, his breath warm against my ear as he whispered, "...then maybe we should sleep in separate rooms instead." My entire body went rigid. Every part of my body felt hypersensitive—aware of how close he was, how his chest was almost touching mine, how one small movement would close the distance between us completely. "I'm not interested in you, Nicholas," I murmured, forcing my voice to sound steady even though my heart was racing. "Of course I can control myse

SEBASTIAN'S POV My black Mercedes rolled smoothly through the gates of Warrington Estate, and I stared out the window at the sprawling mansion that had been my home for years. And yet today, it felt suffocating. The car came to a stop in the circular driveway, and my driver immediately stepped out to open my door. I climbed out without acknowledging him and walked toward the entrance where my butler was already waiting. "Good evening, Mr. Sebastian," Thomas greeted, bowing slightly. "Welcome home, sir." I walked past him without responding. "Shall I have the chef prepare dinner, sir?" Thomas continued, following behind me. "Or perhaps you'd prefer—" "I'll let you know!" I interrupted sharply. The grand foyer opened up before me—marble floors so polished I could see my reflection, dual staircases curving up to the second floor, and a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling that had cost more than most people's houses. Three maids were dusting the banister, and they immediat

SEBASTIAN'S POV The image of Vanessa wouldn't leave my head. Even after calling Adrian, even after the endless, frustrating meetings that filled my entire workday, Vanessa's image was branded into my mind, impossible to shake. The way she'd walked into that boardroom today in that dress that hugged every curve. Seven years ago, she'd been thin—too thin from working triple shifts and skipping meals to save money. But now she had curves that made my mouth go dry. Her breasts were fuller, straining against the fabric of that expensive dress in a way that was impossible to ignore. And her hips—God, the way that dress had clung to her as she walked had made every man in that boardroom take notice, whether they'd admit it or not. She'd never looked like that when she was my wife. I'd never looked at her that way because she'd just been Vanessa—my boring wife who I'd convinced myself couldn't give me what I needed. Back then, she'd worn cheap jeans and T-shirts from discount stores, her

SEBASTIAN'S POV I stared at Principal Morrison, trying to process what she'd just told me. Maya had gotten into a fight. Shock ran through me, followed immediately by understanding. So that's what Maya had been hiding. That's why she'd been so hostile this morning, so desperate to get away from me, so rude and dismissive when I'd offered to walk her to class. She knew I'd find out about the fight. And she'd been trying to avoid this exact conversation. Principal Morrison pulled out a file and continued. "According to the playground supervisor, Maya pushed another student—Emma Andrews—off the swing set. When a boy named Jacob Peterson tried to intervene, Maya threw a handful of sand in his face." I thought about how she'd grown so stubborn and arrogant over the past few months. The entitlement. The complete disregard for anyone else's feelings or needs. Yet she was still my daughter. A Lancaster. "My daughter would never do that," I told the principal firmly, even though somew

SEBASTIAN'S POV I wanted to confront Vanessa right there in the parking lot. Every instinct in my body screamed at me to march over to her, demand answers about Elijah, and force her to admit the truth I could see written all over that little boy's face. But I didn't. Instead, I watched her walk into the school with my son—because he was mine, I knew it in my bones—and I forced myself to turn away. Confronting her here, in front of other parents and teachers, would only create a scene. It would give her ammunition to use against me later. And if I wanted to win this war—and make no mistake, this was war—I needed to be strategic. I climbed into my Mercedes and slammed the door harder than necessary. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white, and I had to take several deep breaths before I could trust myself to drive. Elijah attended Westbridge Academy. The same school as Maya. Which meant Vanessa had known—she'd known for however long Elijah had bee