All Chapters of Divorced At Dawn: The CEO Who Begged Too Late: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

The moment Melissa’s phone began ringing again, the whole room felt like it contracted.Colin reached for the device without hesitation. He took one look at the caller ID, then at Melissa’s trembling hands, before he pressed the answer button.He didn’t say hello immediately. He let the line connect first.On the other end, a rough voice burst in like he owned the air. “So you finally picked up, girl; where’s the money I asked for?” Melissa flinched hard at the sound of the voice, like her body remembered fear faster than her mind could process.Colin stepped closer, angling himself slightly as if to shield Melissa from hearing too much.“You asked me to give you some time. Do you intend to take forever?” The yell continued. “How much,” Colin said calmly, cutting through the anger like a knife, “are you asking for?”The voice on the phone paused, thrown off by Colin’s tone, then it spat out again. “Now who the hell are you?” Colin’s eyes flicked to Melissa. She looked like she was

The front door clicked open quietly.Noah stepped inside with exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders. Every muscle in his body protested after the emotionally draining night at the abandoned warehouse.The truth.Yet somehow, instead of feeling relieved, he felt even heavier.His father had carried that burden for decades.So had Colin’s father.And now... so had he.He had only a faint memory of Grace. As a matter of fact, most of his childhood memories he still remembered were at the Jones’ mansion. Who could have thought that his parents had experienced such an awful event and had kept it all to themselves? He loosened his tie as he walked into the living room.His footsteps stopped.Miranda.She was curled up on the sofa, sound asleep.The television was still playing softly, its volume barely above a whisper. One of the lamps cast a warm golden glow over the room, making her peaceful face look almost angelic.A half-finished cup of warm milk rested on the coffee table.Sh

"There's a twenty-four-hour restaurant ten minutes from the airport," Adrian said, his voice clipped and precise over the receiver. "The Grandview Terrace. It's discreet, upscale, and should be less crowded at this hour. Meet me there.""I'm on my way," Isla breathed, ending the call and then telling the driver to head there. Neither of them had any idea that thirty minutes earlier, a very pregnant Miranda had dragged a thoroughly defeated Noah to the exact same establishment to satisfy an unhinged midnight craving for roasted plantain, steak, and grilled fish.The city outside the tinted windows of Isla's cab was a blur of neon and shadow. When the car pulled up to the grand, dimly lit facade of the restaurant, Isla told the driver she’d be out in a minute and pulled her coat tightly around her shoulders. She stepped inside, the quiet hum of jazz and the low murmur of late-night dining washing over her.She chose a booth tucked far in the corner, out of direct line of sight from the

"Miranda..."Adrian took another shaky step forward, his eyes fixed on the swell of her stomach."Tell me... is that child mine?"Miranda stared at him, her face turning ghostly white.She opened her mouth, but before a single word could leave her lips, another violent cramp tore through her abdomen."Aah!" She cried out, instinctively doubling over.Both Noah and Adrian lunged toward her at the exact same moment."Miranda!""Miranda!"Adrian's hand had barely reached her shoulder when Noah violently shoved him backward."Don't touch her!"Adrian stumbled two steps before catching himself.Noah wrapped both arms around Miranda, panic flooding every inch of his face."Miranda." He cupped her cheeks. "Look at me."She couldn't. Her brows knitted tightly together as another wave of pain ripped through her body."It hurts..." Her voice trembled. "It... hurts..."Noah felt his heart stop. He had never seen her like this. The confident woman who always smiled through discomfort… She looked

The glare of the tablet screen illuminated the manic fury contorting Arthur Sterling’s face.On the display, Nathan Scott’s press statement reached its conclusion, the audio ringing through the silence of the master suite like a death knell: "I stand as living proof of their integrity. Anyone weaponizing this tragedy does not deserve to walk freely in society.""Lies! Fabrications!" Sterling roared, violently hurling the tablet against the marble fireplace. The screen shattered into webbed fractures.His trump card, the decades-old leverage he had painstakingly hoarded to bend the Vale and Jones families to their knees, had evaporated in the span of a three-minute video.Panic, cold and sharp, seized his chest. If the blackmail on the Vales was gone, he needed his other contingencies. He needed the Railway Exclusive contract. He needed his private ledgers, the shell company portfolios, and the hidden financial trails that guaranteed his dominance.Sterling threw open the double doors