Lahat ng Kabanata ng After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Kabanata 351 - Kabanata 360

​CELESTINE'S POV:​I watch my father and my brother, and I feel something shift inside me.​The Valancourt empire is a legacy. It is the result of generations of hard work, sacrifice, and dedication. My father built it from nothing. He gave everything to it. He poured his blood, sweat, and tears into it. The framed photographs of our old family properties line the wall behind his head.​And now he is handing it to us.​I take my father's hand. His fingers are thin and fragile. They are the hands of an old man. But they are also the hands of a man who has achieved everything he set out to achieve.​"Dad," I say. "Are you sure?"​He looks at me. His eyes are soft.​"I have never been more sure of anything," he says. "The Valancourt empire is in good hands. I am proud of you."​I feel tears prick my eyes. I blink them back.​"Thank you," I say. "Thank you for trusting us."​He squeezes my hand.​"I have always trusted you," he says. "Both of you."*​MAXWELL'S POV:*​I look at my father

CELESTINE'S POV: He walks over to me. He kneels beside my chair. He takes my hands. "Of what?" he asks. "Of failing. Of letting everyone down. Of not being good enough." He squeezes my hands. His fingers are warm and steady. "Celestine," he says. "You are the strongest person I know. You have survived more than most people could even imagine. And you have come out the other side every single time." I open my eyes. I look at him. "What if this time is different?" I ask. He smiles but it is a small smile. "It will not be," he says. "Because you are not alone. You have Maxwell. You have Athena. You have me. You have your family." I feel tears prick my eyes. "Thank you," I say. He kisses my forehead. "I love you," he says. "I love you too," I say. * The weeks pass. The months pass. The empire thrives under our leadership. Maxwell and I work together seamlessly. We divide the responsibilities, support each other, push each other to be better. He handles the operations, the

A Few Days Later….​ALISTAIR'S POV:​The garden at Ashcroft Manor was bathed in the light of early evening.​The sun is already sinking low over the valley and the roses are in full bloom, their petals soft and fragrant, catching the last rays of light.​I have been standing here for the past hour, waiting for the right moment.​Elara is inside the house, talking to my mother. She does not know what I am planning. She does not know that I have been carrying this ring in my pocket for some days now, waiting for the perfect moment to ask her the question that has been burning in my heart for years. My thumb rubs continuously over the velvet box hidden deep in my jacket pocket.​I think about the first time I realized I loved her.​I was 17 years old or so, standing in this very garden, watching her laugh at something Hope said. She was wearing a yellow dress, her dark hair falling in waves around her shoulders. She looked like an angel, like something out of a dream. And in that moment,

​CELESTINE'S POV:The next morning came as I was already in the kitchen, my hands busy with the familiar rhythm of preparing breakfast whenever I didn't go to the office, when I hear footsteps on the stairs. The quiet scrape of the wooden spoon against the mixing bowl is the only other sound in the room.​I look up. Alistair is standing in the doorway. His face is pale and his hands are shaking. But his eyes are bright with a joy that I have not seen in years.​"Mom," he says. "Can we talk?"​I set down the spoon. I wipe my hands on my apron. I walk toward him.​"Of course," I say. "What is it?"​He takes a breath. He looks behind him. Elara steps into the doorway, her face flushed, her eyes shining. She is holding up her left hand.​I see the ring. A simple diamond, elegant and beautiful, sparkling in the morning light.​My heart stops.​"Alistair proposed," Elara says. Her voice is shaking. "I said yes."​I stare at them. My son. My daughter. The two people I love more than anything

​ALISTAIR'S POV:​The private room at the back of the restaurant is warm and dimly lit, it's a place that feels intimate without being pretentious. The walls are lined with old photographs, the tables covered in white linen, the candles flickering softly in the center of each one. The food is incredible, the wine is flowing, and the conversation is easy and relaxed. The soft clinking of silverware against fine china fills the space as the waiters quietly move around the table.​This is my bachelor party.​It is not what most people would expect from a billionaire genius. There are no strippers, no wild parties, no scandalous behavior. Just a few close friends, good food, and the laughter that comes from years of shared history.​The guests are a small group. Uncle Maxwell is here, of course, sitting at the head of the table like he belongs there. He has always been the one to keep me grounded, the one to remind me of what really matters. A few of my friends from the tech world are her