Lahat ng Kabanata ng Dear Ex fiancè:I crawled out of grave, it's too late to beg : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

ELARA Immediately after the call ended, Jason didn’t hesitate—he used the taser on me. The prongs jabbed into my side, and a white-hot jolt surged through me. My muscles locked in searing pain. I convulsed, a cry catching in my throat, limbs jerking uncontrollably against the seat. The taser didn’t knock me out completely. It just turned my body into a cage of vibrating, white-hot agony. I couldn't move my limbs, but I could feel every bump in the road as the van swerved off the pavement and onto gravel. Dust. I smelled dust and rot. The van skidded to a halt. The side door slid open with a violent clang, letting in the stifling, humid air of the impending storm. "Get her out," Jason ordered. Rough hands grabbed my ankles—my expensive, pearl-studded heels scraping against the metal floor—and dragged me out like a sack of refuse. I hit the ground hard, the gravel biting into my bare shoulders. I gasped, the air rushing back into my paralyzed lungs, but before I could scream,

MARK Finally, Elara was out of my life. The relief washed over me like a cold wave as I sat in the private VIP waiting room near the airstrip. Outside, the storm was raging, hammering against the glass windows, but inside, everything was quiet and expensive. Two freaking years of faking love were finally over. Two years of holding her hand, listening to her boring dreams, and pretending to be the "perfect gentleman" were done. I took a sip of the vintage champagne and smiled at my reflection in the dark window. I used the opportunity to pull my beloved girlfriend or rather wife, Zane, onto my lap. She giggled and wrapped her arms around my neck, looking nothing like the shy, glasses-wearing secretary she had pretended to be for the last two years. We had been together for five years, long before I ever met Elara. It was all planned perfectly. I hired Zane as my assistant so we could be together right under Elara’s nose. That stupid heiress never suspected a thing. She thought

ARIA New York City looked the same as ever. I used to come here for business trips and conferences.The wind whipping down the Fifth avenue was biting, cutting through my silk coat. The traffic was a deafening roar, drowning out my thoughts. The city moved with the same rhythm it always had, completely indifferent to the fact that Elara Vance—the woman whose family name was painted on half the trucks driving by—had been erased from the earth three years ago.I stood outside the gold revolving doors of the Pierre Hotel, where Mark was hosting the gala, clutching my phone like it was the only thing keeping me upright. My heart wasn't just beating; it was violently throwing itself against my ribs, trying to escape.Buzz.My phone vibrated in my freezing hand. The phone I was clutching so tight lit up and rang in my grip, I answered it before the second ring.“Have you landed?” Maya asked as soon as I picked up. “Yeah,” I replied. “Are you at the venue already?” she asked. “Yes, May

ARIA The heavy door slammed shut, cutting off Zane’s exit, but her words hung in the stale air of the VIP lounge like toxic smoke.“It gets buried.”My blood turned to ice. I sat frozen on the leather sofa, my hand gripping the crystal water glass so hard I thought it might shatter in my palm. My heart was hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs.Zane wasn't just a jealous wife throwing a tantrum. She was a co-conspirator. She knew about fire that erased everything. She knew exactly what kind of monster Mark Miller was because she had helped him sharpen his claws.I looked at Mark.I expected to see guilt. I expected to see the fear of a man whose secrets were spilling out.Instead, I saw him sigh. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the spot where he had spilled his scotch on his trousers. He looked annoyed, like a man whose dog had just ruined an expensive rug."I apologize for that," Mark said, his voice smooth and dismissive. "Zane is... p

MARK The elevator door to my penthouse slid open with a soft ding, revealing the sprawling luxury of the penthouse at 432 Park Avenue.I stepped inside, loosening my tie with one hand while tossing my keys onto the marble console table with the other. The silence of the apartment was a blessing after the chaos of the gala."God," I breathed out, walking straight to the wet bar. "I love the smell of money."I didn't bother with a glass. I grabbed the bottle of Macallan 25—Elara’s father’s collection, which I had happily inherited—and took a long swig. The burn down my throat was magnificent. It tasted like victory.For the last three months, I had been suffocating. The auditors were circling like sharks, the offshore accounts were bleeding dry, and I was losing sleep wondering which one of my lies was going to collapse first. I had been praying for a miracle and tonight, she had walked right through the front door wearing a red dress."Twenty-five million," I said aloud, testing the