Revenge After Divorce: All Men Want Her のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

Elena’s POVThe wake-up call was brutal. It wasn't the sun filtering through the suite’s linen curtains that did it, but the racket coming from downstairs.Arnaud and Bastien hadn't wasted any time. They were there at the crack of dawn, escorting a completely unrecognizable Léa to make amends. I didn't have the strength to go down and face them, so I stayed curled up under the duvet.In the hotel lobby, the atmosphere must have been funeral-quiet. Léa looked like a boxer after twelve rounds: her cheeks were bruised purple, and her eyes were so swollen she could barely see where she was walking. Tears had left messy streaks across her makeup-free face. She wasn't acting like a tough girl anymore.Adrien joined them, walking with long, purposeful strides. He was already on the phone, his face set in a grim mask, looking like he wanted to strangle someone long-distance.Arnaud and Bastien traded looks like kicked puppies. They knew immediately they’d picked the worst possible moment. Adr

Elena’s POVAdrien pushed open the suite door, and his eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on me, the landline receiver still in my hand.Sht.* I could see it in his eyes—he knew he’d been caught.I hung up slowly. My gaze drifted to his hand: he was holding my phone. That pastel blue case with the little cartoon motif—it was definitely mine. There was no mistaking it."Why do you have my phone?"Adrien didn't blink. Not a hint of embarrassment. He stepped into the room with a casual air, like it was nothing."Oh, this... I stepped out in a hurry and grabbed the wrong one."I glanced at the nightstand. His phone—a sleek, ultra-minimalist black foldable—was sitting there prominently. They looked absolutely nothing alike. Between Damon’s call on the landline and this "accidental" phone swap, the message was loud and clear: Monsieur was running interference.Adrien acted like he didn't notice my skeptical look. He walked over to the bed, picked up some of my lingerie that wa

Elena’s POVThe second I stepped through the automatic doors of the Nice-Côte d'Azur airport, the muggy Mediterranean heat slapped me in the face. Amidst the chaos of taxis and tourists, I spotted a familiar silhouette frantically waving her arm next to a bright red Fiat 500 convertible.Chloé Lefebvre. My partner-in-crime since forever.We’d grown up together before her parents' divorce shipped her off down here. Her father had rebuilt his life with a Dumont heiress—a family that owned half the luxury real estate in the area. She’d inherited a slightly-too-protective stepbrother in the process, but she handled it with her usual "couldn't care less" attitude."Elena! My gorgeous girl!" She lunged at me, nearly suffocating me in a cloud of Chanel perfume. "Forget the hotel. I’ve got my place on the Promenade des Anglais and it’s wide open. I’m moving in with you; we’re going to raise some hell!""Are your parents really going to let you just run off like that?" I asked, tossing my suit

Elena’s POVThe racket brought Chloé running from the restaurant. When she skidded into the courtyard and saw the Jeep embedded in the workbench, surrounded by a mess of twisted metal and dust, she screamed my name like I was already headed for the morgue."Elena! Sh*t, Elena, answer me! Are you in one piece?"I climbed out of the car, my legs feeling like cotton. I was ghost-white, unable to squeeze out a single word. I just gave a vague wave of my hand to show her I was still breathing, but my heart was hammering so hard in my temples that my vision was starting to blur.The guy from the garage didn't even give me a second glance. He walked straight toward the back of the hangar, where the impact had been the worst. He ripped back a tarp with a sharp jerk, revealing a racing bike that looked less like a machine and more like a work of art—a monster of carbon fiber and chrome in the middle of being customized.That’s what I’d hit head-on. The front wheel was warped into a figure-eigh

Elena’s POVRenzo took the hit, his head snapping slightly to the side. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, silent, before bringing his dark gaze back to mine.I was shaking in every limb, clutching the collar of my sweater like it was a suit of armor. My eyes burned; an unbearable stinging sensation pricked at my eyelids."Take me back," I ordered, my voice breaking with a sob I desperately tried to swallow.Renzo didn't argue. He settled back into the seat and turned the key. The starter groaned—a pathetic metallic rattle—and then… nothing. He tried again. And again. Silence returned, broken only by the creaking of the branches surrounding us.He turned toward me with a sheepish look that was almost ridiculous given his size."Damn… your car isn't exactly sturdy. It’s like it’s made of plastic."If looks could kill, he would have been a pile of ash. The tears I’d been holding back finally spilled over—a cocktail of pure rage and total exhaustion."Look, I can fix it!" h