Todos los capítulos de DIVORCED Back To Claim What’s Mine : Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

The exterior of Maison d'Elara was an architectural masterpiece of frosted glass, brushed gold, and sleek black marble, nestled in the heart of Manhattan’s most prestigious luxury fashion district. It was a sanctuary of high fashion, catering only to the elite, the billionaires, and the international royalty who could afford five-figure custom garments.Elara parked her private SUV in the VIP reserve spot, flanked by two of Tyler’s elite, silent security guards. She adjusted her tailored cream blazer, took a deep breath, and walked through the heavy glass doors. The soft, ambient jazz music and the delicate scent of white orchids instantly enveloped her.As she walked in, the sales associates on the floor immediately bowed their heads and greeted her with polite, high class smiles. None of the floor staff actually knew Elara was the absolute owner and lead designer of the entire global brand. She had intentionally registered the business under a silent corporate holding structure, and

"Kick this pathetic bitch out of this store right now!" Lydia’s voice rose to a shrill, manic shriek that pierced the refined silence of the boutique. She was waving Charlie’s black titanium Centurion card right in the trembling face of Chloe, the sales associate. "She is a poor, useless thief! She doesn't belong in a place of this caliber! Look at her, trying to buy clothes with Tyler Hawthorne’s handouts! I am a Vane, and I demand you throw her out onto the street where she belongs!"Lydia’s face was twisted in a grotesque mask of hysterical arrogance. She stepped forward, her nails clawing at the air as she tried to violently snatch the liquid-obsidian, midnight-black gown directly from Elara's hands."Give me the fucking dress, Elara!" Lydia snarled, her teeth bared like a rabid animal."Sir! Ma'am! You must calm down immediately!" Chloe gasped, trying to step between them, but Silas aggressively shoved the young sales girl aside."Get the fuck out of our wa

( Elara )The private elevator of the Chelsea penthouse opened with a soft, digital chime, and Elara stepped out into the warm, secure foyer. Behind her, two of Tyler’s elite security guards carried the garment bags containing her liquid obsidian, midnight black gown and little Leo’s miniature charcoal black tuxedo, placing them carefully in the cedar wardrobe before bowing respectfully and retreating back to the elevator.Elara tossed her keys onto the marble console table, her face flushed with a brilliant, victorious energy. The cold, unyielding mask she had worn in Fifth Avenue slowly dissolved, replaced by a soft, beautiful laugh that echoed through the high ceilinged penthouse.Tyler walked out of his private study, his charcoal black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark eyes instantly locking onto her with an intense, questioning warmth. The moment he heard her laughing, a slow, incredibly proud smile spread across his handsome face. He walked over, wrapping his stron

A cold, misty grey dawn broke over Manhattan on Saturday morning, wrapping the towering skyscrapers in a heavy shroud of fog. The final countdown had officially begun. In twelve hours, the grand ballroom would open its doors, and the fate of the Vane dynasty would be sealed.Inside the quiet, spacious warmth of the Chelsea penthouse, the atmosphere was peaceful but highly charged with a silent, lethal anticipation.Elara’s personal head tailor, an elegant European woman who had flown in overnight, stood quietly in the center of the master dressing suite. She was meticulously adjusting the hemline of Elara’s liquid obsidian, midnight black gown. The silk flowed like water over Elara's slender frame, catching the soft morning light. The structure of the dress was flawless, radiating a powerful, regal sovereignty that made her look like an untouchable queen preparing for her coronation.A few feet away, little Leo stood on a small velvet pedestal, looking incredibly handsome and adorable

The gilded, crystal trimmed walls of the Grand Ballroom's private VIP corridor echoed with the muted, rhythmic bass of the classical symphony playing inside the main hall. The clock on the wall showed exactly 9:05 PM. The atmosphere was thick with a toxic, electric tension that made every breath feel like inhaling glass.Slipping away from Charlie’s side while he sat in a daze on the velvet lounge sofa, Lydia hurried down the private corridor. Her emerald-green gown swept across the marble floor, the heavy, strategic silicone padding around her waistline shifting slightly under the structured fabric. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird.She opened the door of the empty, gold-accented VIP restroom, slipped inside, and locked the heavy door with a sharp, metallic click.Panting heavily, her pale face slick with a thin layer of cold sweat, Lydia reached deep into the hidden satin pocket of her gown and pulled out her encrypted burner phone. Her fingers shook violently