All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

397 Chapters

The Obsession Begins

ALISTAIR'S POV: I feel a knot form in my stomach. I know where this is going. I have seen this look before, in her eyes, in the way she is looking at me now. It is the same look she had when we were teenagers, when we were rivals, when she made it clear that she wanted more than just competition. I want to leave. I want to get away from her. But I cannot be rude. She is a business associate, a peer, a former rival who has achieved incredible success. "Mira," I say carefully. "It is good to see you. But I am actually here for work. I do not have much time." She ignores my excuse. She steps closer, the smell of her expensive floral perfume filling the small space between us. "I was hoping we could catch up. I have so much to tell you." "I am sure you do. But I really need to—" "Dinner," she says. "Tonight. Let us have dinner." I shake my head. "I cannot. I have other plans." "What plans?" "Personal plans." She looks at me. Her eyes narrow, just slightly. "Are you see

Mira's Obsession

MIRA'S POV:I have always wanted Alistair and I mean every word of it because I know this is not a passing crush. That is the truth that has been living inside me for years, buried deep beneath layers of ambition and success and the careful facade of a woman who has everything under control.I remember the first time I saw him. We were fourteen or fifteen years old at that time, standing in a crowded auditorium, surrounded by other students who were just as brilliant and just as driven. But Alistair was different. He was quiet, intense, his gray eyes focused on his project like nothing else in the world existed. He was shy and awkward, but there was something about him that drew me in. Something that made me want to know him, to understand him, to possess him and that was why I walked up to him to grab his attention.I still remember standing across the room, watching the way he ran a hand through his dark hair, completely unaware of the people staring at him.He won that competit

The Anonymous Email

ELARA'S POV:A few days after leaving Ashcroft Manor, I am back in my London apartment, trying to settle into my normal routine.The quiet buzz of the city outside my window usually brings me a sense of peace, but right now, it barely registers. My sketchbooks are open on the dining table, my fabric swatches are scattered across the floor, and yet I can barely bring myself to focus on a single piece of work.It is not easy. My mind is still at the manor, still wrapped up in Alistair, still replaying every moment we shared. The way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way he whispered my name in the dark. I have never been this happy. I have never felt this complete.Every single touch from those few days is burned into my skin, keeping me warm even when I am sitting alone in the middle of my living room.But I also have never been this scared.My apartment feels different now. The walls that used to feel like a sanctuary now feel like they are closing in on me. The windo

The Hunter's Game

ELARA'S POV:There are photos. Photos of me and Alistair. Kissing in the garden. Holding hands in the hallway. Looking intimate in ways that leave no room for interpretation. The photos are clear, close-up, undeniable. I can see the moonlight on our faces. I can see the way his hands are wrapped around my waist. I can see the way my head is tilted back, my lips parted, my eyes closed.Every single image is high resolution, caught from angles that make it clear someone was hiding right near the trees, watching every breath we took.The message beneath them is short and chilling:"I know your secret and I am going to destroy you."I stare at the screen. My hands are shaking. My heart is pounding. The room around me fades away, the noise and the lights and the people all becoming a distant blur.The bright lights of the ballroom seem to blur into harsh, blinding flashes, and the chatter around me turns into a low, terrifying hum.Oh my gosh someone knows. Someone knows about us. S

Under Her Eyes

ALISTAIR'S POV:She sends me the email. I open it. The photos are damning. There is no doubt about what they show. Someone has been watching us, following us, documenting our every move.The clear lighting in the photographs makes my stomach turn into a tight knot. Whoever took these was standing just yards away from us while we were in the garden.I trace the email. It comes from a burner account. No name. No address. They covered their tracks well.The IP address bounces through three different proxy servers before hitting a dead end in an encrypted network.But I am not going to give up. I am going to find out who did this. And when I do, they are going to regret ever threatening Elara.**ELARA'S POV:**The hours pass slowly. I pace in my apartment and check my phone every few minutes. I try to work, but I cannot focus. I try to eat, but I cannot stomach anything. I try to sleep, but I cannot close my eyes without seeing those photos.I keep walking from the living room

A Grandmother's Revenge

VIVIENNE'S POV:The flat is small and cold and smells like cheap air freshener and a lot of regret.The stale scent of fake lavender tries to cover up the damp smell coming from the carpet, but it does not work. It just hangs in the heavy air.I sit in the worn armchair by the window, staring at my reflection in the darkened glass. The face that stares back at me is not the face I remember. It is lined and wrinkled, the skin sagging around my jaw, the eyes dull and hollow. My hair is gray and thin, pulled back in a limp bun that does nothing to hide the patches of scalp showing through.Every single time I catch my reflection in the window, my stomach drops with a quiet, bitter disgust. Ah, this world.This is what I have been reduced to. This is what they have done to me.I think about the past. The grand mansion. The servants. The parties. The power. I was Vivienne Thornwell, the matriarch of one of the wealthiest families in England. I had money and status and respect. Every

No One Touches My Daughter

ELARA'S POV:My lock screen is completely covered in red notification bubbles that keep refreshing faster than my tired eyes can read them.I open one.It is a link to a tabloid article. The headline makes my blood run cold."Heartless Heiress: Elara Ashcroft-Valancourt Abandons Her Elderly Grandmother."I sit up. My heart is pounding. I scroll through the article.There is Vivienne. My grandmother. The woman I have never even met. She is sitting in a tiny flat, her face streaked with tears, her hands clasped in her lap. She looks old and frail and broken. She is telling the world that I have abandoned her. That I do not care about her. That I left her to live in poverty while I live in luxury.She is lying. I have never met her. I have never spoken to her. I have no idea who she is or what she wants.I do not even know the sound of her voice, yet she is painted all over the Internet talking about me like I left her out in the cold on purpose.But the headlines do not care ab

Celestine's Response

CELESTINE'S POV:I stand in front of the mirror in my dressing room, looking at the woman staring back at me.I take a slow breath, letting my gaze sweep over the reflection I have known for a lifetime, noting every small change time has left behind.She is fifty seven years old. Her dark hair is streaked with a bit silver, but it is still thick and beautiful, falling in waves around her shoulders. Her face is lined with age, but her eyes are still sharp, still fierce, still burning with a fire that has not dimmed with time. She has survived more than most people could imagine. She has been broken and rebuilt and broken again. And she is still standing.I reach up to adjust a loose strand of hair behind my ear, taking a moment to gather the strength I know I will need for what comes next.I smooth down the front of my dress. It is simple and elegant, a deep navy blue that makes my eyes look brighter. I do not need to be flashy. I do not need to be dramatic. I just need to be hon

Vivienne's Desperation

VIVIENNE'S POV:I am so fucking furious.I slam my phone down onto the small wooden table, almost cracking the plastic cover as my breath comes out in ragged, angry gasps.That is not a strong enough word. I am incandescent. I am raging. I am burning with a fury that has been building for decades, a fury that has been simmering beneath the surface of my carefully constructed facade, waiting for the moment when I could finally let it loose.My knuckles turn white as I clench my fists so tightly that my fingernails dig straight into my palms.Celestine has outmaneuvered me. Just like she always does. Just like she has been doing since the day she walked into my son's life and stole him away from me. She has humiliated me on national television. She has exposed my secrets. She has destroyed my reputation.She stood up there at that podium looking so righteous, handing out private papers as if she had every right in the world to judge me.The headlines are everywhere. They are spl

Vivienne's Last Card

VIVIENNE'S POV: I pick up my phone. I dial the number of the same tabloid reporter who ran my first story. Her name is Patricia. She is a vulture, a scavenger, a woman who would sell her own mother for a good story. She is perfect. I wait as the line rings three times, my heart beating with a dark, bitter excitement in my chest as she finally picks my call. Nonsense. "I have something even bigger," I say. "Something that will destroy the Ashcroft family forever." She is interested. Of course she is interested. She cannot resist a scandal. "What is it?" she asks, her voice sharp with anticipation. "Elara Ashcroft-Valancourt and Alistair Ashcroft," I say. "They are lovers. They have been having a secret incestuous affair for weeks. The whole family has been hiding it." There is a pause on the other end of the line. I can practically hear her salivating. "Do you have proof?" she asks. "I have photos," I say. "I have evidence. I have everything you need." I send her th

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