Lahat ng Kabanata ng Reclaiming Mrs. Wolfe: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The silk of my dress felt like a shroud.I sat at the corner table of L’Oiseau Bleu, the most exclusive restaurant in Manhattan, watching the condensation drip down my untouched glass of sparkling water. I had been sitting here for exactly sixty-four minutes.I wasn’t surprised. That was the saddest part."Another bottle of the '96, Mrs. Wolfe?" the waiter asked, his eyes darting toward the empty chair across from me. His pity was sharper than a knife."No, thank you, Marcus," I said, my voice steady despite the hollow ache in my chest. "He’ll be here."I was a liar. Ethan Wolfe didn’t do anniversaries. He did acquisitions. He did hostile takeovers. He did everything except look at the woman he had married five years ago to keep his inheritance. To him, I was a piece of furniture—reliable, quiet, and entirely replaceable.The door chimes signaled a new arrival. I sat up straighter, smoothing the hair I’d spent two hours styling into a sophisticated bun.Ethan walked in.He didn't look

The heavy mahogany doors of Silas Vance’s law office didn't just open; they practically splintered under the force of Ethan’s rage."You have exactly ten seconds to tell me why I am still legally shackled to a woman I divorced twenty-four months ago," Ethan roared. He didn't sit. He slammed his palms onto the antique desk, sending a stack of depositions flying.Silas, a man who had served the Wolfe family for forty years and feared nothing but God and Ethan’s grandmother, didn't even flinch. He slowly removed his spectacles and polished them with a silk cloth."Correct terminology is important, Ethan," Silas said calmly. "You didn't divorce her. You signed a pile of papers in a crowded restaurant while looking at another woman’s cleavage. That is not a legal proceeding. That is a mistake.""I signed the decree!" Ethan hissed, his face inches from Silas’s. "I saw her sign it!""You signed a separation intent and a contribution acknowledgment," Silas countered, sliding a leather-bound f

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was a fortress of glass and gold, crawling with the world’s most powerful vultures. Every camera lens was a sniper rifle, and I was the target."Smile, Grace," Julian whispered, his hand firm on the small of my back. "Show them we’re the new era."I forced my lips into a curve, but my stomach was a lead weight. I could feel the microscopic life inside me—a biological ticking time bomb that threatened to blow my revenge to pieces. If Ethan found out I was pregnant, the "Ninety-Day" rule wouldn't just be about the company. Under the archaic "Wolfe Lineage" bylaws, he could petition for full conservatorship over my health and finances until the child was born.I caught my reflection in a passing champagne tray. I looked like a queen. I felt like a fugitive."There he is," Julian muttered, his posture stiffening.Ethan stood at the top of the grand staircase, flanked by board members. He wasn't looking at the art. He was looking at me. His eyes raked over my

The silence of the room was heavy, broken only by the frantic thrumming of my pulse. I stared at the small, brass-grated intercom on the nightstand as if it were a venomous snake. Eleanor Wolfe had been buried in the family plot two years ago. I had stood in the rain, clutching a black umbrella, watching her mahogany casket lower into the frozen earth."Grandmother?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "This isn't funny. Ethan... if this is a recording, if this is some sick psychological game—""Recording? My dear, I never had the patience for technology," the voice crackled back, followed by a wet, rattling cough that sounded painfully real. "And Ethan has no idea I’m here. He thinks I’m resting in the ground, just like you do. But a Wolfe never truly leaves their den until the work is finished."I grabbed a heavy bronze lamp from the desk, my knuckles white. If Ethan had locked me in, I was going to break my way out. But as I approached the door, I noticed a small floor vent near the m

The rain turned into a freezing sleet that stung my skin, but I couldn't feel it. I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, at the woman who wore my face like a stolen garment. She adjusted her designer lapel—a piece from my own autumn collection—and boarded the helicopter where a broken Julian lay."Grace?" Ethan’s voice was a jagged whisper. He was looking from the screen to me, his hands still stained with the soot of the wreckage. "You told me you were an only child. You told me the Harts were gone.""I was," I choked out, the bile rising in my throat. "Eleanor told me my twin was stillborn. She gave me the death certificate when I was twenty. I kept it in my jewelry box for years. It was the only thing I had left of a sister I never knew.""She didn't just hide her," Ethan said, the horror dawning on him. "She trained her. Look at the way she moves. That’s not a sister, Grace. That’s a replacement."The helicopter’s blades began to blur on the screen, a low hum that seemed to v