Semua Bab Too Late to Win Back The Ex-Wife: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Claire's POVMy son called the cops on me.Over a dog.Fifteen days in a cell changes you. The door finally clanged shut behind me, but the sound that still haunted me was my six-year-old's voice, screaming for the officers to take his mother away.The sun was too bright. I stood there, feeling cheap in my wrinkled clothes, while a black Bentley sat across the street like a predator. My husband, Nathan Sterling, leaned against it, his designer sunglasses hiding any emotion. Beside him, clutching Nathan's hand, was our son, Ben. My little boy stared at me like I was a ghost. A scary one.Two weeks ago, I'd begged Nathan as the police guided me away. *Please. Listen to me.*He'd just stood there with his arm around *her*—Isabella, his perfect, precious ex—and told the officers I was unstable. That I needed to learn a lesson.His posture said the same thing now. Impatient. Annoyed. "Are you done staring, Claire?" Nathan's voice was cold, cutting through the city noise. "Get in the car. W

Claire's POVAs the Prius pulled into traffic, the last fragments of their world reached me.Ben's voice, bright with forced cheer: "She's gone! Can we get pancakes, Aunt Bella?"Isabella's sigh, dripping with false regret: "Oh, Nathan, I feel just awful. This is all so messy…"And Nathan's reply, cold and absolute, the final word: "Let her go. She's made her choice. She'll be back when reality hits. She always comes back."The window was up. Their voices were gone. I held Leo closer. Nathan was wrong. The woman who always went back died in that isolation cell.The walk-up in the Village was the opposite of the penthouse. It was cramped, full of my past, and gloriously, undeniably warm.The door shut, and Leo finally let go. He toed off his shoes, his socks immediately sliding on the hardwood floor. He did a little skid, caught himself on the doorframe, and looked around with wide eyes. A moment later, he returned dragging an old afghan from the back of the couch. "This is our house?"

Claire's POVThe call from Nathan left a cold residue in my veins, but not the kind he'd intended. It wasn't fear. It was… clarity.I set the phone down on the chipped kitchen table, my hand steady. In the next room, I could hear the soft scratch of Leo's crayon on paper. The ordinary sounds of our life now—the echo in this old apartment, the smell of boxed mac and cheese from dinner—they wrapped around me like a shield.But his words had claws. They scraped at old wounds.‘You have nothing.'Once, that would have been true. I'd been at the top of my class at Columbia, my future a wide-open blueprint. Then Ben came, so frighteningly small, and Nathan looked at me with those desperate, loving eyes. "Just until he's stronger. I'll take care of everything. You won't have to worry." He gave me a black AmEx, a gilded cage. I traded my drafting table for doctor's appointments, my design critiques for debates on the best organic peanut butter.I told myself it was a sacrifice for love. That

Claire's POVThe noise from the play area wasn't kids playing. It was a sharp, animal sound. The kind that slices through coffee shop jazz and polite conversation like a knife.My heart tried to crawl out of my throat. *Leo.*I pushed through the wall of adults—gawking, whispering, clutching their own precious children. All I could see was his dark hair, his small back tense as a bowstring. He was on top of another kid, pinning him down."Leo! I'm here!" The words were out before my brain processed the rest of the scene.The kid underneath him was kicking, his face red and twisted. A face I knew in my sleep. In my bones.Ben.My world cracked right down the middle. My blood son and my heart's choice, rolling on a foam mat like street fighters.Ben's eyes, swimming with furious tears, locked onto mine. For one stupid, hopeful second, I saw it—the little boy who needed his mom. *Fix it, Mommy.*Then he saw my frozen horror, my inability to instantly take his side. The hope died, murdere

Claire's POV:The words hung in the air, poisoning the space between us.I wish you had died.They didn't just hit me. They dissolved something. The last fragile thread connecting me to the little boy he used to be.Six months ago, he came home from first grade with a scowl. "Jimmy's mom is a lawyer. Chloe's mom designs video games. My mom just… stays home." His words were a tiny dagger, wrapped in childhood honesty. I'd knelt, trying to explain, my voice too bright. "Mommy was an architect once. A really good one. I'll go back to work soon, I promise."He'd shoved my hands away. A rejection so small, so brutal. "If you hadn't stolen Daddy from Aunt Bella, she'd be my mom. She's a star. Everyone would be jealous of me."That was the first time I heard her name. It felt like a stone dropped into my stomach, sinking cold and heavy.That night, I asked Nathan. He denied it, of course. Smooth, convincing. He even put Ben in a timeout for being "disrespectful." I'd felt relieved. Stupid, b