บททั้งหมดของ After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: บทที่ 401 - บทที่ 410

DAMON'S POV: ​"After a while, I stopped letting my emotions get involved in my work," I admitted. "I shut down my personal feelings completely during working hours. I functioned like a fine-tuned tool, an asset to be assigned to high-risk zones. I stopped dwelling on the background of the targets we were tracking. I just focused on finishing the job and keeping my squad alive." ​I squeezed her hand gently, making sure she knew I was being fully honest. ​"I finally retired from active military service after eight years," I explained. "I left with a good pension, a lot of tactical knowledge, and a very tired heart. From there, I used my savings to build a brand new private security firm from the ground up. I made smart business investments. I took calculated risks in the market. I signed major security deals with powerful corporate figures. Step by step, I built a successful company, became a major leader in the business world, and established a brand that could not be easily brushed

ISABELLE'S POV:​The text seemed to stand out on the display. We know where you live. We know who you are. The point of the message was crystal clear to me. They were keeping tabs on my daily routine. They knew my basic schedule, my work habits, and where I spent my free time. They had probably been watching the main entrance for days, maybe even longer, just waiting for the right moment to send a notice.​I looked at the photograph one more time. The exact angle, the clear lighting, and the careful timing. Whoever took that photo knew exactly what they were doing. Whoever sent the text was patient and persistent. Whoever was behind this disruption was clearly serious about getting my attention.​I pressed his speed dial button without waiting another second.​Damon answered the line before the very first ring even finished.​"Isabelle," he said immediately, his tone sharp and alert. "Is everything okay over there? What is wrong?"​I could hear the deep concern in his voice right away

DAMON'S POV: ​One evening, we were sitting together in the main living room and she was curled up comfortably on the long leather sofa, holding a thick novel in her hands, her long dark hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. I was sitting in the armchair directly across from her, pretending to analyze a stack of security reports, but mostly just enjoying her company. ​"Why are you looking over at me like that?" she asked suddenly, her eyes still fixed on the page she was reading. ​I felt a sudden splash of warmth hit my face. I had been caught completely off guard. ​"I am not staring," I replied, keeping my voice calm as I set my paper down. "I am simply appreciating the view." ​She looked up from her book, her brown eyes bright with playful amusement. ​"Appreciating the view?" she repeated, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Is that what you are calling it now?" ​"It is meant as a genuine compliment." ​"It is a bit funny." ​I let out a low chuckle,

​DAMON'S POV: ​I did not sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I kept seeing the photograph, so I gave up on rest entirely. ​I sat in my study with the door locked tight and the curtains pulled shut. The only light in the room came from the bright blue glow of my computer screens. The message Isabelle received was still open on the main monitor, and that photograph of her penthouse was staring right back at me. It felt like a direct warning. I must have spent four straight hours looking at it, checking every tiny detail, every pixel, and every shadow in the background. ​Whoever took the picture knew what they were doing. They stood across the street, likely hidden on a high rooftop or sitting inside a car with tinted glass. The text itself came from a simple burner phone, the cheap types you buy with cash and throw in the trash two minutes later. It was untraceable by normal means. ​Luckily, I do not operate by normal means. I have access to private networks, useful conne

ISABELLE'S POV: ​My throat felt tight, and I could not get any real words out. I just lifted a shaking hand and pointed at the glowing phone lying on the floor. ​He stepped across the floor, picked the phone up, and watched the video replay. As he watched, all the warmth left his expression. His jaw set tight, his posture went completely rigid, and his hands gripped the edges of the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. ​"Who sent this to you?" he asked. His voice was flat, quiet, and very steady. ​"I do not know," I managed to whisper, holding my hands together to keep them still. "It came from a blocked number. Just like the last ones." ​He kept staring down at the little screen for a long, quiet moment before turning his head toward me. ​"Did you watch the whole thing?" ​I gave a small nod. I could not bring myself to explain how awful it felt to see it, but I did not have to. He could read it on my face anyway. He saw how uncomfortable and shaken I was. ​He set the phon