All Chapters of Divorced, Now Watch Me Rise!: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

CLAIREAfter we read the message together, Julian stood at the window for a long moment, his shoulders tense, his hands gripped tight on the windowsill.I stayed close but didn't speak, letting him process whatever was running through his mind. Finally, he turned to face me."I need to work," he said, his voice controlled but strained. "I need to think through this clearly and I can't do that if I'm standing here spiraling.""Okay," I said quietly."You should work too," Julian continued. "Design something, respond to emails, whatever keeps your mind occupied.""Are you sure?" I asked. "We could talk about this more, figure out what to do...""There's nothing to figure out right now," Julian interrupted gently but firmly. "Richard gave us forty-eight hours, we don't need to decide anything today."He walked past me toward his room, then paused at the doorway. "Claire?" he said without turning around."Yeah?""Don't sacrifice yourself for me," he said quietly. "Whatever happens with my

CLAIREAfter finding Dr. Mitchell's contact information, I called the number. It rang four times before a woman's voice answered, cautious and uncertain."Hello?""Dr. Mitchell?" I asked. "Dr. Sarah Mitchell?""Who's asking?" she replied, her tone immediately guarded."My name is Claire Cross," I said. "I'm married to Julian Cross, and I'm calling about a case you worked on eighteen years ago."Silence on the other end. "Elena Cross," I continued carefully. "You signed her death certificate."More silence, then a sharp intake of breath. "I can't talk about that," Dr. Mitchell said quickly."Please," I said. "We just need a few minutes of your time, we think there's information that wasn't included in the official report.""I said I can't talk about it," she repeated, her voice firm but I could hear something underneath, fear maybe, or guilt."We have evidence," I pressed. "Medical examiner's notes that suggest her death wasn't suicide, we just need to understand what really happened."

CLAIREI sat on the couch for another hour, checking my phone obsessively, willing Julian to text again or call or come home, but nothing came.The news coverage continued, more analysts weighing in, more speculation about charges, more discussion of the Cross family legacy crumbling. I was about to turn off the TV when my phone rang.Unknown number. I almost didn't answer, assuming it was another reporter or someone looking for a statement, but something made me pick up."Hello?" I said cautiously."Claire."I recognized the voice immediately and my entire body went rigid. Ethan. "How did you get this number?" I asked, my voice cold."That's not important," Ethan replied. "I'm calling to check on Julian."I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "You're calling to check on Julian?" I repeated. "Are you serious right now?""He's my half-brother," Ethan said. "We share a father, even if that father is apparently a murderer.""You haven't cared about Julian being your brother for the past se

CLAIREJulian came home exactly one hour later. I heard his key in the lock and stood up from the couch, my heart pounding.He walked in looking exhausted, his hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly, his eyes red-rimmed but dry. "Hey," I said softly."Hey," he replied, closing the door behind him.We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, the space between us feeling wider than it actually was. "Are you okay?" I asked finally.Julian let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "No," he said honestly. "But I will be."He walked over and sat on the couch, I sat beside him, close but not touching, waiting for him to speak."I've been with my lawyers all morning," Julian said. "And the police, they want a statement about the video, about what I knew, when I knew it.""What did you tell them?" I asked."The truth," Julian replied. "That I believed my mother's death was suicide until yesterday, that I had no knowledge of any evidence suggesting otherwi

JULIANI watched Claire walk to her room to start working on designs for the showcase, her shoulders straighter than they'd been all day.The moment her door closed, I let my shoulders drop, let the exhaustion I'd been hiding from her settle over me like a weight.I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a drink, something stronger than coffee, then stood at the window staring out at the city.My father was a murderer. I'd known something was wrong eighteen years ago, had felt it in my gut when they told me my mother had killed herself.She'd been unhappy, yes, trapped in a marriage to a controlling man, but she'd never been suicidal, she'd been planning to leave him, I remembered that now with painful clarity.bShe'd told me the week before she died, late at night when my father was traveling for business."We're going to get out of here, Julian," she'd said, her hand smoothing my hair back. "Just you and me, somewhere he can't find us."I'd been seventeen and angry and I'd told her