Todos os capítulos de My Ex Husband Who Despised Me Before, Now Wants Me Back.: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

The first blow was small, which made it worse.It was a single line on a business news site, written by a man no one had heard of. Aurevia Global faces questions over predatory loan terms at Williams Empire. By noon, six other sites had copied it. By evening, three investors had called Sarah’s office to ask if she was well.“It is a warning shot,” Gideon said. He lay on the sofa in her office with his cast on a cushion and a laptop on his chest. “He wants us to know he can make noise.”“Then let us go and hear it.” Sarah closed her own laptop. “I am having lunch with him tomorrow.”“Sarah—”“I know. I know what he is.” Her eyes were calm and very dark. “That is exactly why I am going.”The restaurant was on the top floor of a glass tower, with a view over the whole bay. Voss had reserved the entire room. A single table stood by the window, laid with white linen and one red rose. He rose when she entered, and pulled out her chair himself.“Miss Moore. You honor me.”“Mr. Voss.”“I orde

At six in the morning, a gray car pulled out of Aurevia’s garage with three people in it and no peace at all.Sarah drove. It was the only sensible plan. Gideon had one good arm and a cast. Frederick had two bandaged hands. So Sarah sat at the wheel in dark glasses with a face like a general, and her two passengers sat as far from each other as the car allowed.“This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done,” she said.“It is a very nice car,” said Frederick from the back.“Do not speak.”“You asked me a question just now.”“It was not a question.”“It sounded like one.”In the front seat, Gideon turned his head to the window. His shoulders were shaking.“Are you laughing?” Sarah demanded.“I am coughing.”“You are laughing at me.”“Never.” He wiped his eye. “I am laughing at us. Two wounded men in a car with the woman who is driving us to a nursing home in a hurry. It is a very silly story. Someone should write it down.”She tried to stay angry. She really did. But the corner of

The cottage belonged to a friend of Gideon’s, and it stood alone on a cliff above the sea, with a crooked porch and a roof that smelled of salt. Jackson’s men had circled it twice before they let anyone inside.By nine that night, they were all around the kitchen table. Mr. Finch sat at the head in a woolly cardigan, eating soup with the focus of a child. He had asked for the white queen three times. Frederick had found it in his pocket and given it back, and the old man had kissed it.“Now,” said Sarah gently. “Mr. Finch. You said Frederick’s father left something.”The old man set down his spoon. His face changed. The vague sweetness drained out of it, and what was left was clear and sad and very old.“Edward,” he said. “Yes.”He looked at Frederick for a long moment.“Your father was not a bad man, Freddie. He was a weak one, which is a different sin. He was afraid of your mother, all his life, as you were. But in the last month, when he knew he was dying, something came loose in h

The courtroom was full to the walls.Reporters crowded the back benches with notebooks open. A hundred curious faces turned every time the door opened. At the front, behind a high wooden desk, sat Judge Harlan, a stern old woman with silver spectacles and no patience for foolish people.On one side of the room sat Sarah, with Gideon on her left and a tired team of lawyers behind them. Beatrice sat on her right, in her best blue dress, with her pearls and her chin up.On the other side sat a row of men in gray suits, and one wheelchair.Hannah Williams had been discharged from the hospital that morning against her doctor’s advice. She sat very straight in a black dress with a nurse behind her, a thin blanket over her knees. She looked like a queen carried into exile. Her eyes were calm. They did not once touch Sarah.At nine o’clock, a small, old man was led to the witness stand in a borrowed suit. He had combed his white hair flat. He clutched a leather notebook against his chest.“St

The cemetery lay on a hill above the city, quiet and green, under a sky the color of a pearl.Sarah came alone, at five in the evening, with a bunch of white lilies she had bought on the way. She had never been able to stand their smell. But her father had loved them, and she had decided, somewhere over the desert, that she was done letting a wicked woman take away the things he loved.She walked between the rows of stones until she found a plain gray one under an old oak tree.THOMAS MOORE. A GENTLE MAN.She knelt on the grass. She laid the lilies down. For a long time, she said nothing at all.In her bag, in a brown envelope, lay a stack of papers from a safe in Tucson. She had read them on the plane, twice. Every test. Every number. A neat line at the bottom, in blue ink, in a doctor’s hand. Patient fully healthy. No obstacle to conception. And pinned to it, a sheet of cream paper in elegant, upright writing, which she knew as well as her own.Dr. Cole. You will find that Mrs. Sara