บททั้งหมดของ MY EX-BOYFRIEND WANTS ME BACK: บทที่ 101 - บทที่ 110

Aunt Linda muttered a word I barely heard. I scoffed, not making too much out of it. The shiny piece on Victoria's piece caught my attention. My eyes widened. It was the exact one I had found on her dresser after she had gone missing, the same one I took to Alex at the station. The same one! My eyes moved from Victoria's face to her father's face. My hand moved, settling in the piece suspended from her neck. “This,” I muttered, swallowing hard. “It appeared back in your room, on your dresser precisely… How did you drop it there? It was on your neck that afternoon?” I could tell curiosity sat deep in my eyes. Victoria shoved a strand of my face. “Come,” she said, smiling small. She guided me back to the bed, we both sat on the edge… My heart was pounding faster. Finally, it was time to understand what actually happened. She rubbed my free hand gently. My eyes roamed across her face, searching her eyes, I wished she could just spill all at once. “Mr. Houghton… He has been

I sat on the worn wooden stool in the old house, the one Mom used to sit on while peeling potatoes. The afternoon light filtered through the dusty curtains, casting long golden stripes across the floor. Lucy sat across from me on the matching stool, her warm hand gently rubbing the back of mine in slow circles. Her touch was steady, grounding, the kind that reminded me I wasn’t completely alone in this storm. “Blood is thicker than water,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. My thumb traced the faint scar on my knuckle from when I was seven and fell off my bike. “There were times I saw it, Lucy. The way Victoria and I both tap our fingers when we’re angry. The way we trusted too easily. The way we both float through life like we’re waiting for someone to anchor us.” I shrugged lightly. Lucy nodded slowly. Her eyes stayed soft on my face. “The signs were there all along, weren’t they?” I let out a shaky breath. “Mr. Richard once mentioned my hair and eyes reminded him o

I lay sprawled across the soft sheets of my bed in my old bedroom, the same one I had used as a teenager. The sheets deepened under my weight as I leaned forward. Files spread across the surface like a messy map I couldn’t quite read. Numbers, charts, profit reports, expense sheets… rows and columns that blurred together after the tenth page. My fingers traced one line of digits, then another, but none of it stuck. These weren’t crime scene photos or witness statements. They were balance sheets, shareholder notes, quarterly projections. Foreign territory.I rubbed my eyes. Outside the window, the garden lights flickered on one by one as evening settled in. I had spent the best part of the day in the conference room at Thorne Crafts Co. with my father and the board members. The long mahogany table, the leather chairs, the wall of windows overlooking the city. My father, thinner now, leaning heavily on his walking stick, had stood at the head of the table and announced it.“Effective

Bending down had become a battle Samantha no longer attempted unless she absolutely had to. At almost eight months pregnant, even putting on her sandals required a deep breath and a silent prayer, or actual help.So she sat comfortably on the wooden stool beneath the shade of the mango tree, one hand resting on her rounded stomach.A smile lingered on her lips, the old house felt alive again. Not just occupied like when she first got here, everywhere was too calm and too quiet.Mia's laughter rang through the backyard as the little girl chased a butterfly that clearly had no interest in being caught."Come back!" Mia squealed, yet the butterfly ignored her, she gasped dramatically. "You're very rude!"Aunt Linda laughed from beside the clothesline. "Who are you talking to now?""The butterfly, of course!” She snapped. “I wonder why it's running away from me.” That earned another laugh from Aunt Linda and Samantha."I missed this," Samantha said, shaking her head."Missed what?" Aunt L

I leaned back against the soft headboard, rubbing my sleepy eyes with the heels of my palms. My body still felt heavy, like it needed a few more hours to remember how mornings worked in the penthouse. I had lain awake for a long time last night, staring at the ceiling, letting everything from the past weeks settle in my bones. Now the penthouse felt different… warmer, fuller, like it had been waiting for me to come home as Elma.A soft knock sounded on the door.“Come in,” I called, my voice still rough from sleep.The door opened quietly. Victoria stepped inside, her blonde hair loose over one shoulder, wearing a simple cream robe that made her look effortlessly elegant even first thing in the morning. She carried two mugs, steam curling up from them.“Good morning, Elma,” she said, her voice light and warm. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, handing me one of the mugs. The scent of vanilla and coffee filled the air.I took it with both hands, the warmth seeping in