All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

274 Chapters

Obsession and Desire

ALISTAIR'S POV:I look at the invitation again. My mother's handwriting. Her careful loops and elegant curves. She has no idea what she is asking me to do. She has no idea that coming home is the most terrifying thing I can imagine."Just get through it," I tell myself. "One weekend. Then you can leave again."I arrange for a private jet. The best of everything, I have the money and also the resources. I can afford to fly in style.But none of it matters. None of it will make this easier.I do not sleep that night. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. I think about Elara. About the way she looked at me when I left. About the way she must have felt when I never came back. About the way she probably hates me now.I think about what I will say to her when I see her. What I will do when I am standing in front of her after seven years. How I will control myself.I think about her lips. Her eyes. Her skin. The way she smells. The way she sounds when she laughs.I want her.

The Empire She Built

ELARA'S POV:The morning light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my London penthouse, turning the white walls gold and casting long shadows across the polished wood floors. The city is waking up below me, a symphony of distant traffic and early risers and the hum of a million lives being lived. I stand at the window, a cup of tea growing cold in my hands, and I watch the world move on without me.My penthouse is my sanctuary, my workspace and my everything. It is filled with bolts of silk and rolls of chiffon, with half-finished garments draped over mannequins and sketches pinned to every available surface. The air smells like fabric and thread and the faint sweetness of the roses I keep on the counter. It is beautiful and functional and also the physical manifestation of everything I have built.I am twenty eight years old and I am one of the most successful fashion designers in the world. My name is on every magazine cover. My designs are on every red carpet. My collecti

Seven Years of Longing

ELARA'S POV:I walk into the studio now. The floor is smooth under my feet. The mirrors reflect my image a thousand times over. I am wearing a simple leotard and leggings, my hair pulled back in a messy bun. I look tired. Exhausted. The type of tiredness that comes from working too hard and sleeping too little and pretending that everything is fine.I start to move. The music is in my head, a soft piano piece that I have heard a thousand times. I move through the motions, the pliés and tendus and ronds de jambe that have been part of my life for as long as I can remember.My body remembers what my mind has forgotten. My muscles know what to do. My feet find the rhythm. My arms find the grace.I dance for myself now and not for an audience nor for applause but just for me.When I finish, I am breathing hard. My heart is pounding. My cheeks are flushed. I feel alive in a way that I do not feel anywhere else.I walk to the window. The city spreads out below me and I think about the empti

Still Waiting for Him

ELARA'S POV:I told myself it was just curiosity. Just the normal awkwardness of being stepsiblings. Just the strange dynamic of a blended family.But deep down, I knew the truth. I have had a crush on Alistair Ashcroft since I was eighteen years old. And I have never been able to shake it off.I set down the photo, my hands are trembling and my heart is pounding.I have not seen him in seven years. He left when he was eighteen. He never visited. He barely called. He sent gifts on birthdays and holidays but never came home.I have always wondered why. I have always wondered if I did something wrong. I have always wondered if he was running from me.*A sleek black car pulls up to my building on a thursday afternoon, and my driver hands me a thick cream-colored envelope as soon as I step out. I recognize the Ashcroft crest immediately, embossed in gold at the top. My mother's handwriting curls across the front, elegant and familiar.I do not open it right away. I hold it in my hands, f

The Quiet Observer

HOPE'S POV: I am thirteen years old and I notice everything but that is not me trying to sound full of myself. It is just how I am. I have been this way for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I used to sit in the corner of the room while everyone else talked. I would watch their faces, listen to how their voices changed, and look at the little movements they made when they thought no one was paying attention. It made it easy to tell when someone was lying, or when they were sad, or when they were pretending to be happy just to keep everyone else from asking questions. My mother always says I have an old soul. My father thinks I am a bit too perceptive for my own good. My sister Elara usually just calls me nosy. I prefer to think of myself as observant. Someone has to keep track of what is actually happening around here. Right now, I am sitting on a tall stool in the kitchen of Ashcroft Manor, watching my family get everything ready for the big anniversary celebrat

Reading Between the Lines

HOPE'S POV:She sits in silence for a few seconds, looking at me like she is trying to figure out how much I actually know. Finally, she lets out a small laugh and shakes her head. "You are way too smart for your own good, Hope."I have heard that sentence a million times. My mom says it. My dad says it. Everyone says it when they realize I am not acting like a normal kid."I am not too smart," I say, keeping my voice steady. "I am just paying attention while everyone else is looking somewhere else."Elara lets out a long sigh and sets her phone face-down on the cushion between us. She turns her body toward me."Hope," she says gently. "There are just some things that are really complicated. Grown-up stuff that is hard to explain.""Try me," I reply. "I can understand plenty."She hesitates, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Then she leans closer and drops her voice. "Alistair is coming home. For the party."I do not let my face change. I actually already knew that. I heard

A Mother's Waiting Heart

CELESTINE'S POV:The garden is always quiet at this hour of the morning.I have been sitting here on the old stone bench for almost an hour, watching the sky change color over the valley and enjoying the cold air against my face. The rose bushes are completely wet with morning dew, their petals soft and sweet in the fresh light. Out in the trees, the birds are just starting to wake up and sing, their voices rising and falling in a pattern I have listened to thousands of times over the years.This has always been my favorite part of the day. It is the only moment when the whole world feels calm, before all the noise and busy work inside the manor starts up, and I can actually sit with my own thoughts for a minute without someone interrupting me.I look at the roses stretching along the wall and think about how much this place has changed over time.The fire ten years ago almost took everything from us. The whole east wing collapsed into dust. The old library was completely burned

A Mother's Intuition

CELESTINE'S POV:I want to believe what he is saying. I really want to sit here and tell myself that everything is fine, that Alistair is just busy running his business, and that he will walk through the door and everything will go back to normal.But I cannot get rid of this bad feeling in my chest. There is something missing from the picture, something nobody is willing to say out loud to me."Do you remember the morning he left?" I ask him.Lysander’s jaw sets tight. "I remember.""He was only eighteen years old. He had just won that massive scholarship and he was so excited about his future. And then, out of nowhere, he packed up his things and left. He said goodbye to the two of us and Hope, but he completely avoided Elara. He couldn't even stand to look at her before he walked out."Lysander looks down at the gravel for a long time without saying a word."Maybe that was why he left," he says finally.I frown at him. "What do you mean by that?"He pauses, choosing his wo

Waiting for Alistair

CELESTINE'S POV:"Mother," I say, letting out a breath. "What are you doing here this early?""I came to help you out," she says, walking over slowly. "You look like you are about to drop."I let out a short laugh. It sounds tired, but it feels good to hear it."I am doing just fine," I tell her."You are completely worn out, Celestine.""I have too much to do to be tired."She walks right up to me and gently pulls the clipboard out of my hands, setting it down on the side table without asking."Celestine," she says, her voice firm. "You have been running yourself into the ground for three weeks straight. You need to sit down and take a breath.""I can't sit down yet. There are a hundred things that still need to get done before tonight.""There is always going to be something else to fix. But you are not going to be any help to your family if you pass out from exhaustion."I look at her face. It is lined with wrinkles from getting older, but her eyes are still just as shar

Love Beyond Time

ISABELLE VALANCOURT'S POV:The bedroom is completely quiet except for the soft, steady beeping of the medical monitors sitting on the nightstand near the window.I have been sitting right here in this high-backed armchair for hours now, holding my husband's hand in both of mine, watching the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The whole room smells like the dried lavender I keep in the ceramic dishes, mixed with that sharp, artificial smell of medicine that I have come to hate over the past few months. It is a smell that constantly reminds me of doctors, clean hospital corridors, and endless hours spent sitting in cold waiting rooms listening to bad news.August is sleeping right now. His face looks peaceful, completely relaxed for the first time all day, with the sharp lines of pain finally smoothed away from around his eyes. He looks so much younger when he sleeps like this, almost like the boy I fell in love with all those decades ago. His thick silver hair has gotten thin over

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