All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

LYSANDER'S POV:I do not sleep after that phone call.I sit in my study, staring at the wall, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The room is dark except for the glow of the fireplace, the flames casting long shadows across the bookshelves and the leather chairs and the portrait of my parents that hangs above the mantel. They are watching me, I think. Their eyes follow me as I pace, as I sit, as I stand up again because I cannot stay still.Every time I close my eyes, I hear his voice. I hope you enjoyed your accident, Ashcroft. Because I am just getting started. Smug and slow and full of a satisfaction that makes my blood boil. He is proud of what he did. He is proud that he almost killed me. He is proud that he put me in the hospital, that he broke my leg, that he cracked my ribs and that he made me bleed.And he is not done. He said so himself. He is just getting started.I think about Celestine. About the way her face went pale when she heard his voice on the phone. About th

ATHENA'S POV:Maxwell arrives at Ashcroft Manor with pizza and beer and I want to be annoyed at him for it, I want to tell him that this is not the time for takeout and jokes and the easy charm that makes everyone else in his life fall in love with him, but the truth is that I have not eaten in two days and my stomach is so empty that it hurts and the smell of grease and cheese and warm dough is making my mouth water in a way that is honestly embarrassing.He walks into my office like he owns the place, which he does not, because this is Ashcroft Manor and he is a Valancourt and the two families may be joined by marriage but that does not give him the right to barge into my personal space without knocking. He sets the pizza box on my desk, right on top of the maps and the photographs and the notes that I have been staring at for some minutes, and he pulls a beer out of a paper bag and holds it out to me."This is not a social call," I say, glaring at him."You need to eat.""I need to

MAXWELL'S POV:"Maxwell… oh my gosh…" she whimpers, fingers tightening in my hair.I keep going, steady and relentless, until she comes apart with a beautiful, broken cry. Her pussy pulses around my fingers, wetness coating my tongue as I lick her through every wave, gentling my movements as she rides it out.I crawl back up her body and kiss her softly, letting her taste herself on my lips. She reaches between us, wrapping her hand around my cock, stroking me slowly, lovingly. I groan into her mouth."I need you," she whispers against my lips.I settle between her thighs and push into her slowly, inch by inch, until I’m buried to the hilt. We both moan at the feeling. She’s so tight, so warm, so perfect around me. For a long moment I just stay there, forehead pressed to hers, looking into her eyes.Then I start moving, long, deep, rolling thrusts that make her gasp with every stroke. It’s not rough. It’s passionate and tender and full of all the things we don’t always say out loud. I

CELESTINE'S POV:It happens on a Thursday afternoon, a drizzly London afternoon that makes you want to stay inside with a cup of tea and a blanket and someone you love. But I have meetings, because I am Celestine Ashcroft now and Celestine Ashcroft has responsibilities, has a company to help run, has people who depend on her. I am in the back of my car, my hand resting on my growing belly, watching the rain streak down the windows, thinking about names for the baby.Lysander and I have been arguing about whether to find out the sex of our child which ends with him kissing me and me laughing and neither of us really caring who wins.I want to be surprised. That is what I keep telling him. I want to feel the baby kick and not know whether it is a boy or a girl. I want to hold them in my arms for the first time and discover who they are in that moment. I want the mystery, the wonder, the joy of not knowing until it is time to know.Lysander wants to find out so he can start buying things

KIER'S POV: "Take her to the warehouse," I say. "Put her in the room. Make sure she is comfortable. She is pregnant. I do not want anything to happen to the baby." The men look at me. They are professionals, hired by Vladimir Drakon, paid to do what they are told without asking questions. But I can see the question in their eyes. They are wondering why I care about the baby. They are wondering why I do not just kill her and be done with it. They do not understand. No one understands. I am not going to kill her. I am going to keep her. I am going to make her love me again. And when Lysander Ashcroft is dead, when his empire is in ruins, when she has nowhere else to go, she will come back to me. She will have no choice. I get into the car and we drive away. I do not look back at the wreckage. I do not look back at the bodies of her security guards, the men I had killed to get to her. I do not look back at the car, upside down in a ditch, its windows shattered, its metal crumpled lik