Todos los capítulos de Divorce the Cheat, Return for Revenge: Capítulo 201 - Capítulo 210

The collapse happened in full view of everyone who mattered and many who didn't, captured by lenses that had no interest in mercy, only in moments that could be replayed endlessly.The foundation hearing had been scheduled as a routine accountability session, one of those carefully structured public forums designed to restore confidence rather than provoke it.It was the kind of event meant to reassure rather than to reveal.Petra hadn't planned to attend. She had followed the proceedings remotely from her office, half-listening while signing off on documents, trusting that the foundation's legal team would handle the optics with their usual precision.Her attention divided between figures and phrases she barely registered.Pete was not meant to speak.He had insisted anyway.Cameras were already rolling when it happened. He had been seated at the long table, shoulders squared in a way that suggested effort rather than ease.His hands folded tightly as questions were directed at other

Petra chose the morning deliberately, the way she chose most things now, with intention rather than impulse, understanding that the hour of a decision could shape everything that followed it.Hospitals felt different at that hour; less dramatic, less crowded, stripped of the chaos that usually fed rumours and speculation, the corridors still holding onto the last quiet of the night before the day's visitors arrived to fill them with noise.She walked through the sliding doors of St. Martins Hospital with a composed gait, sunglasses shielding her eyes, her posture steady enough to discourage questions, the kind of walk that suggested purpose without inviting conversation.The receptionist recognised her immediately but said nothing, only gesturing her toward the elevators with practiced discretion, the small courtesy of someone who understood that not every visitor wanted to be seen.She rode up alone, watching the numbers climb, her reflection faint and steady in the polished metal of

Petra woke up with a sharp intake of breath.It came without warning, like her body had sensed something before her mind caught up, some quiet alarm firing beneath conscious thought before she could even open her eyes fully.Morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and uncommitted, casting soft lines across the ceiling, the room still holding onto the last traces of night even as the world outside had already begun to stir.For a few seconds, she lay still, listening to the quiet hum of the house, trying to anchor herself in the ordinary, in the familiar rhythm of a morning that had not yet declared what kind of day it intended to be.Her phone vibrated on the bedside table, the sound sharp and insistent against the quiet.She reached for it without thinking, her fingers still slow with sleep, unaware yet of how quickly that stillness was about to end.The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, professional, carefully neutral, the kind of voice trained to deliver difficult in

The executive lounge sat slightly elevated above the rest of the hotel grounds, open to the afternoon breeze and framed by glass railings that reflected the soft city's sun.The light caught against the polished surfaces in a way that made the whole space feel suspended somewhere between business and leisure, neither fully one nor the other.Petra sat across from Dr. Ken Livingstone and Malcolm at a low table set neatly with documents, tablets, and untouched drinks, the condensation on the glasses slowly gathering into small pools that no one seemed inclined to notice. The setting was relaxed by design, but the conversation was anything but casual, the underlying formality of it evident in the careful way each of them chose their words.Dr. Ken leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled as Petra finished walking them through the latest project update, his attention fixed and unwavering despite the loose posture he had settled into, the kind of stillness that came from someone who had

Petra stood rooted just inside the doorway, her hand still resting on the door handle as her eyes took in the scene before her, the warmth of the room reaching her before her mind had fully caught up with what she was seeing.The dining area glowed softly, not with excess brightness, but with intention, every detail arranged as though someone had thought carefully about how the light itself should fall across the room.The table had been carefully set. China plates aligned carefully, cutlery gleaming under the warm light, wine glasses catching reflections from the chandelier above. Fresh flowers sat in simple vases, their scent faint but calming, drifting toward her in soft, unhurried waves.At the centre of the table, arranged with deliberate care, were the words "I Love You," written boldly and unapologetically, spelled out in a way that left no room for misinterpretation, no room for the careful hedging that usually came with difficult conversations.For a moment, she thought she