All Chapters of After the Divorce, My Ex Husband Came Crawling Back: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

ARIANAHer words settle between us. Simple, plain, but real."I blamed you for things that were never your fault. I judged you before I ever gave myself the chance to know you properly."I fold my arms as she lets out a slow breath."When Maxwell married you, I convinced myself you were temporary. Just another arrangement Victor forced onto the family.""And that made it acceptable?""No." She shakes her head immediately. "No, it didn't."The sincerity in her voice irritates me more than defensiveness would have. Because anger is easier."I watched my son disrespect you," she continues quietly. "And instead of stopping him, I excused him. I minimized what he was doing because I kept thinking..."She stops."Thinking what?""That eventually he'd come to his senses and everything would sort itself out."A bitter laugh escapes me. "Interesting definition of sorting itself out."Pain flashes across her face. She accepts the hit. "I deserve that.""Yes. You do."Molly's eyes drift toward t

ARIANAI understand almost immediately why people call the Presidential Ball the most important night in Blackbridge.It has nothing to do with the ballroom itself… well, not really.It has nothing to do with the ballroom itself… well, not really. Yes, the hotel is obscene in the way only old money can achieve: crystal chandeliers dripping from ceilings three stories high, marble floors polished until they reflect the lights overhead like water, and men in tailored tuxedos moving through the crowd with women covered in diamonds that probably cost more than entire neighborhoods.But that’s not what makes the room dangerous.It’s the people. Every conversation feels weighted, every smile feels negotiated, and even the air feels expensive.“You’re staring again.”I glance sideways at Durrell as we step through the entrance hall together.“I’m observing.”“You’re profiling people.”“There’s a difference.”“There really isn’t.”A waiter passes with champagne, and Durrell takes two glasses

ARIANA“Ariana,” Durrell says smoothly, “you gonna introduce me or should I start inventing backstories?”I blink. “Right. Sorry.”Something about that makes Mason’s mouth twitch faintly.“Mason Grant,” he says, extending a hand.Durrell shakes it once. In a firm and measured way. “Durrell Cox.”Recognition flashes briefly across Mason’s face. In an interesting but not surprising way.“I’ve heard of you,” Mason says.Durrell’s expression stays pleasant. “Hopefully nothing criminal.”A soft laugh leaves Mason. “That depends on who you ask in Blackbridge.”The response is light enough to sound harmless. But something underneath it isn’t, and urrell notices too. I can tell by the way his shoulders subtly straighten.Meanwhile, Mason’s attention drifts back toward me. “You really didn’t recognize me?”"You grew up," I say with a small smile."So did you." His eyes travel down my body, then back up.There’s something intensely direct about the way he looks at me. It’s not rude, not inappro

DURRELLThe look on Juliana’s face after Eleanor’s question stays with me long after Ariana excuses herself to get air. It’s a look of fear, not discomfort, not irritation. Just fear. And somehow that bothers me more than it should.“You’re staring again.”Victor’s voice pulls me back toward the present.“Aren’t we all.” I glance away from the terrace doors and pick up my whiskey. “Seems to be a theme tonight.”Victor exhales quietly beside me.We’re standing near the back section of the ballroom now, partially shielded from the crowd by towering floral arrangements and political banners. The orchestra has softened into background noise, as conversations rise and fall around us.Somewhere nearby, Maxwell is still self-destructing quietly over Selene. I can practically feel his frustration from across the room. Victor follows my gaze briefly before muttering, “He’s making a fool of himself.”“That’s not exactly new.”Victor’s mouth twitches faintly. But the amusement disappears quickl

SELENEMaxwell notices it too. I can tell by the way his posture stiffens. Victor’s attention shifts toward me briefly. In a measured kind of way, yet thoughtful.“You look well tonight,” he says.Unlike Maxwell, Victor’s compliments never feel careless. That’s probably why they land harder.“Thank you.”My mother watches the interaction carefully. Almost approvingly. And suddenly I understand exactly why she insisted I attend tonight despite the drama with Maxwell. This was never about Maxwell. At least not really. And Maxwell seems to realize it, too, because his face changes instantly. Shock first, then anger, then something uglier - possession. It’s not over me, but over the situation, over losing control again.Poor man. Tonight really isn’t going his way.Victor excuses himself moments later after another politician approaches him. But as he walks away, I catch myself watching him instead of Maxwell. Older, calmer, more powerful. And unlike Maxwell, Victor doesn’t need attention