บททั้งหมดของ My Prodigal Ex-Husband Wants Me Back: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

“I’ll have to shake them off,” I muttered under my breath, the words tasting sharp and ridiculous even as they left my mouth. Who the hell did I think I was, some action-movie heroine with a getaway plan? I was just a pitiful woman who’d just walked out on her cheating husband, not a stunt driver. Still, my hands tightened on the wheel until the leather creaked, and I flicked on my blinker at the last possible second, yanking the car hard to the right onto a narrow side street lined with quiet houses and tall hedges.The black car followed without hesitation, its tinted windows swallowing the morning light. My pulse kicked up another notch.Peanuts shifted in the back seat, letting out a low, worried whine as if he could feel the tension rolling off me in waves. I reached back with one hand and gave his ear a quick scratch, trying to keep my voice light. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll lose him.”The road curved ahead, and I took the next turn faster than I should have, tires squealing a

The doctor stayed quiet for a beat, letting the words hang there like they might settle on their own. “If that’s all,” I said, voice shaking, “then leave. Just… get out.” She hesitated, fingers tightening slightly on the chart in her lap. I could see the internal debate play across her face, the way her mouth pressed into a thin line like she was weighing how much more I could take. Then she exhaled slowly and spoke again, softer this time. “There’s one more thing you need to know.” I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear another single word from her, but she went on. “The imaging and the pelvic exam showed significant trauma to the endometrial lining, there was notable disruption to the myometrial integrity and possible cervical insufficiency. There’s also evidence of uterine scarring consistent with the impact, which may affect implantation in future cycles, along with reduced ovarian reserve from the acute stress response and blood loss.” I blinked at her, th

“Of course.” “You would do anything for me.” “Yes.” “Then will you kill her for me?” She let it out, her breath hot and soft against my collar as her fingers threaded into my hair again, tugging just enough to tilt my head back so she could stare straight into my fucking soul. “You said you’d kill for me, right?” “Yes…” I never knew the hate ran that deep. But it wasn’t entirely difficult to despise the bitch who stole your entire fucking life. Even back before the wedding, when Clara and I were supposed to be the ones walking down that aisle, Lila had orchestrated the ultimate fuck-you. They looked enough alike that with the right makeup, the veil, the lighting… it was doable. “Elias?” I raised my gaze to meet hers. “You want her dead?” “Just kidding.” It was clearly not a fucking joke, and the thought gnawed at me—could I actually kill Lila for Clara? Though I wouldn’t feel one ounce of guilt, because the only reason that cunt married me was to kill me to begin with—stag

His body jerked so hard the chair legs scraped across the concrete like nails on a chalkboard and at that moment I wanted nothing but to drop the knife. I wanted to run upstairs and hide under my bed like any normal eight-year-old. But Dad’s hand stayed heavy on my shoulder.“Good girl,” he whispered when the man finally stopped thrashing, just soft whimpers leaking through the tape. “Lila could never do this.”Those words settled into me like the blood under my nails.“Yes… she’s useless,” was all I could let out, a bit dazed, my voice sounding small and far away. ‘And I’m useful,’ I thought but didn’t say that part out loud. We climbed the basement stairs in silence after that, leaving the corpse of a man whose name I would probably never know lying cold on the floor, my sneakers leaving faint red prints on the wood. Dad’s hand stayed on my shoulder the whole way, guiding me like I was a prize he didn’t want to drop. The house smelled exactly the same as it always had, but someh

I didn’t see my parents after that fight.I didn’t see anybody, to be precise.For the next several days, the only people who entered my room were nurses on their rounds, the occasional doctor doing checks, and the quiet lady who delivered my meals on a plastic tray. I survived on hospital meals which were often bland chicken broth, limp green beans, mystery meat in watery gravy, and little cups of red Jell-O that wobbled. But I ate anyway.Not because I was desperately clinging to survival—life had never shown me much kindness anyway—but because Peanuts was still waiting downstairs in the pet ward. I had to get strong enough to go get him. That became my only goal.I spent most of my time either staring at the ceiling tiles or looking out the small window, which offered nothing but a gray parking lot and a thin sliver of sky. It wasn’t exactly an inspiring view and my only real company came from the muffled voices and footsteps drifting in from the hallway outside my room.It’s fun