All Chapters of Revenge Of The Rejected Ex-Wife: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Morning arrived with the smell of burnt toast. It was absurd enough to make me stand in the hallway for three full seconds, wrapped in my robe, wondering if I had somehow crossed into a kinder version of my own life while sleeping.Then Daniel shouted, “It’s not that bad!”Lucian’s voice followed in a manner that was calm but strained. “Champ, the smoke alarm disagrees.”A sharp beeping tore through the brownstone and I closed my eyes. Then I laughed. The laugh came out rough and surprised, like something that had been locked away too long and had forgotten how to behave in the open air.Downstairs, chaos was performing domesticity at full volume.When I reached the kitchen, Daniel was standing on a chair beneath the smoke alarm, waving a dish towel at it with all the seriousness of a soldier defending a border. Lucian stood by the sink, holding a blackened slice of bread between two fingers. His hair was damp, his jaw unshaven, and his expression was the grave, wounded look of a man

I stopped walking and looked around.Lucian looked at me. “Did you know they’d be here?”“No.”Dr. Tricia spotted me first. Her face brightened not with surprise exactly, but with the satisfaction of a woman who had arranged something and was pleased the universe had cooperated.“Seraphina,” she called. “Good. We were just discussing you.”I shook my head and laughed. “That sounds ominous.”Mrs. Crawford laughed. “It’s only ominous if you hate opportunity.”Opportunity.The word felt dangerously hopeful. I climbed the steps carefully, Lucian close behind me.Dr. Tricia’s gaze flickered over my face, then my posture, then rested for one brief second too long on the careful way Lucian hovered near my elbow. She missed nothing. She simply filed things where they belonged. It was one of the reasons I respected her. “We spoke with the community board chair,” she said. “The building is still available for short-term pilot use before any long-term lease discussions. They are willing to cons

Daniel came out with his backpack half-open and his tie loosened, looking more like a child than he had that morning. When he saw both of us waiting, relief crossed his face so quickly it hurt.“You came together,” he said.“We did,” I replied.He looked at Lucian. “Did Mom answer Dad?”Lucian looked at me while I looked at Daniel.“No,” I said. “I did not.”Daniel studied me as if checking whether I was lying to protect him. Then he nodded after a moment. “Good.”Then we walked home together. As we did so, Daniel talked like a bird. He told us Peter’s bridge had collapsed during the second demonstration because someone sneezed near it. He told us Mrs. Henshaw said his presentation was thoughtful. He told us a boy named Max said bridges didn’t need feelings and Daniel told him that was why Max’s bridge looked boring.Lucian laughed at that. I did too. Daniel looked pleased with himself as we did.Halfway home, rain began to fall. It was just a cold, needling drizzle that made the pave

Ground looked different after blood.That was the strange thought that entered my mind as Lucian parked across from the old community building and turned off the engine.The brick walls were still stained by age. The front steps were still cracked. The windows were still dusty enough to make the rooms inside look like secrets pressed behind glass. Nothing had changed since yesterday.And yet, everything had changed.Because somewhere in a clinic behind us, two samples now sat in sterile little tubes, carrying the beginning of an answer I was not sure I was strong enough to receive.My blood.Lucian’s swab.The truth beginning its slow, clinical journey through machines and analysis and detached medical hands.Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. I looked down at the small bandage on the inside of my arm. A tiny white square. So simple. So ridiculous. As if something so small could cover the place where the future had been opened.Lucian was quiet beside me. He had been quiet since the clinic.He

The next morning, I woke up to Daniel singing. It was just a soft, tuneless hum that drifted through the floorboards from his room and curled into the quiet of the brownstone like the first thin line of smoke from a match.I lay still for a moment, listening.It had been a long time since Daniel sang to himself.At the Blackthorne estate, sound had rules. The wrong kind of laughter could echo too sharply through marble corridors. The wrong question could change the temperature of a dinner table. The wrong burst of childish excitement could be met with Kieran’s silent look over the rim of a glass, and just like that, joy would learn to lower its voice.But here, this morning, my son was humming.Badly.Beautifully.And I loved it. I closed my eyes and let the sound settle into me.For one fragile second, I allowed myself to believe the house was healing.Then my phone vibrated on the nightstand.My eyes opened and the spell broke.I did not reach for it immediately. That was a small v