Alle Kapitel von I Am My Ex Husband’s Nemesis : Kapitel 1 – Kapitel 8

Imani's POV The sun was high when I turned onto our driveway. Four hours of work, and my back was screaming. But I didn't care. The new blend was perfect. I could already taste it—that dark cherry finish with just a hint of vanilla. My dad always says I have a gift. The wine sings when you touch it, he tells me.I smiled, thinking about him. He taught me everything I knew about wine. I wiped my hands on my jeans. Purple stains. They never come out. I stopped trying years ago. Yara would be inside. My six-year-old. She's probably watching cartoons. And Roy. God, I couldn't wait to see my Roy. I slowed the car near our gate. There was a woman standing there. She wore all black. A wide black hat. Long dress. She looked like she was waiting for something. Or someone. She stood so still. I thought she was a statue at first. Then she saw my car. She lifted her hand. Covered her face. Turned and walked fast to a red Mercedes-Benz parked on the side of the road. No license

Imani's POV I sat in my car outside the police station. My hands are still shaking. The statement sat in my head like a rock I couldn't swallow. Yara missed a step. I never wrote that. I never said that. But there it was. My handwriting. My signature. What the fuck was going on? I started the engine. Drove home. The woman in black. She was at my gate. Covered her face. Ran. And my front door was unlocked. I never leave the door unlocked. Roy said he was at the airport. But I thought I heard him. I heard his voice in the house that morning. 'Yara baby, come watch Bluey with me'. I heard it. Didn't I? Or did I imagine it? *** The mansion appeared through the trees. Dark now. The windows looked like empty eyes. I killed the engine and just sat there. Looking around. Scared. Like someone was watching. The spot where the woman stood. Right there. By the gate. Her car was parked on the shoulder. Red Mercedes. No plates. I got out. Walked to the front door. My legs felt hea

Imani's POV Roy's words hung in the air. My brother. Dashiel Reginald. The ground shifted. I grabbed the wall. Missed. Grabbed again. Roy caught me before my knees hit the floor. His arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me into his chest. I looked up. "That was your brother—Dash? The man at the hospital? That was Dashiel?" Roy didn't answer. "He was sitting outside my daughter's hospital room. He was right there." "I know." "We need to get her out. Right now. We need to move her somewhere he can't find her." Roy put his hands on my face. Made me look at him. "I already sent men. Security is everywhere. Every door. Every elevator. Every hallway. No one gets near Yara without going through me first. Do you understand? Yara is safe." I stared at him. Dash. The name we never said. The name that sat in our house like a locked door no one was allowed to open. Fifteen years ago, he killed their parents. Roy never talked about him. I had known Roy for

Imani's POV I watched his face and I said nothing.Because what if I was wrong? What if I asked, and it turned out to be something simple — an old nickname, a business reference, something that made complete sense in the context of two brothers who had a complicated history? What if I ruined this — the candles, roses, the food he'd made with his own hands over something I'd googled on my phone?So I kept it behind my teeth.By the time we finished, I had almost convinced myself it could wait.He cleared the table while I sat, which I protested, and he ignored my protest, which was so him."Come." He held out his hand.He led me to the living room, and we settled on the couch — his back against the armrest, me against his chest, his arm around me. The house was quiet. Just the sound of our heart beats.I looked at the empty space across the room. At the little armchair by the window that Yara had claimed as hers the year she turned three, the one she dragged her blanket to every Satur