All Chapters of After The Divorce: Ex-Husband Regrets And Begs Me: Chapter 481 - Chapter 490

​SERENA'S POV:​"They came for me," I continued. "Three of them. They ambushed me right inside my apartment. They had guns. They had knives and the type of ruthless training that only came from years of professional killing."​I paused, closing my eyes for a brief moment. I took a shaky breath. The memories were flooding back now, sharp and painful and impossible to ignore.​"I was coming home from work. It was late at night. The streets outside were completely quiet. I had my keys in my hand, my bag on my shoulder, and my mind on the next day's tasks. I did not see them coming. I did not hear them approaching. They were just there, waiting for me in the hallway."​I closed my eyes tighter. The memories were so vivid that it felt like I was living through them all over again.​"The first one grabbed me from behind. He put his hand over my mouth so I could not scream out. The second one snatched my bag away. The third one just stood there, watching me with a smile on his face that made

DAMON'S POV:She was quiet for a moment. Then she spoke again, her voice softer now."You want to know why they hate me? Why they hate you? Why they are coming for us?"I did not answer. I just waited."It started with a job," she said. "Five years ago. They contacted me. Not as a spy. As a police officer. They wanted me to do something for them. Something illegal. Something that would have destroyed everything I had worked for."I looked at her. "You were a police officer?""I was. Before all of this. Before I went undercover. I was a detective. I worked for the homicide department for six years. I was good at my job, I was respected and I was proud of what I did."She paused. She looked down at her hands."I had a life. A real life. I had a career. I had colleagues who respected me. I had a future. And then they came to me.""Who came to you?""The Black Hand. They approached me in my office. They told me that they knew who I was. They told me that they knew my family. They told me

DAMON'S POV:A Few Days Later…​The study had turned into a complete war room.​Maps covered every surface, pinned down securely with glass paperweights and coffee mugs. Blueprints of the mansion, of the surrounding grounds, of the roads that led in and out of the estate were spread across the large table. Photographs of known Black Hand operatives were pinned to a corkboard that I had dragged in from the hallway earlier that morning. Timelines were scrawled across a whiteboard, marked with red ink and arrows and the kind of frantic handwriting that came from a man who had not slept in days.​I stood right at the center of it all, my sleeves rolled up to my elbows, my hair completely disheveled, my jaw locked tight. I had been awake for nearly forty-eight hours straight. I had not eaten a single bite of food. I had not taken a shower. I had not done anything except plan, prepare, and wait for the inevitable storm to hit our front doors.​Serena was right beside me, just as exhausted,

​ISABELLE'S POV:​Some Days Later...The very first thing that broke the quiet of the night was the loud, violent sound of shattering glass.​It came from downstairs, ripping through the silence like a gunshot. I was standing right inside the nursery, cradling Athena in my arms, trying desperately to lull her back to sleep. She had been fussy for hours, suffering through the pain of teething, her little gums swollen and red, her tiny fists balled up tightly against her chest. I had been pacing back and forth across the rug, humming a gentle tune, praying that she would finally drift off.​Then the window shattered into a thousand pieces.​Then the screaming started outside.​I froze completely. My heart skipped a beat, then hammered wildly against my ribs. My arms tightened around Athena, pulling her flush against my chest as if I could shield her from the entire world. She stirred instantly, her face scrunching up in distress, her tiny mouth opening wide in a piercing wail.​Footstep

​DAMON'S POV:​The hideout was an old farmhouse tucked away at the very end of a long, twisting dirt road. Tall fields of dead grass surrounded it on all sides, and the surrounding quiet was so deep that it made my skin crawl with unease. The windows showed no light at all, completely blacked out against the night sky. The doors were shut tight. The only sign that anyone was even inside was a thin wisp of smoke curling up from the chimney, catching the moonlight before dissolving into the clear sky.​I had spent an entire week tracking Gregor Sokolov. Seven full days of following tiny breadcrumbs across the state. Seven days of chasing ghosts and shadows through the city. Seven days of sleepless nights, staring endlessly at computer screens, satellite images, and intelligence files that normal people never get to see. I had run purely on black coffee, pure adrenaline, and a cold, sharp rage that kept me going when my body wanted to shut down.​Now, I had found him. Finally, after all