All Chapters of Divorced by Mistake: She Came Back Cold and Rich: Chapter 41 - Chapter 48

48 Chapters

The First Shatter

He was standing by the window, his arms crossed, his face unreadable at the other end, Emilia stood rigid as rigid as an obstacle. But his eyes were fixed on her with something new, something cold and certain. "You remember," he said quietly. "I've heard you talk in your sleep, about some fragments. Things that didn't make sense at the time. 'Don't take him.' 'Please, not him.' You remember, Emilia. You've always remembered." Emilia's composure shattered. "Shut up!" she screamed. "You don't know anything! You weren't there! You don't know what I saw, what I heard, what they've..." She stopped at once as the room went dead silent. "What who?" Emily asked. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Emilia. What who?" Emilia looked at her sister. For a moment, only a moment before the mask was gone entirely. Beneath it was a woman haunted by something she had buried for three decades. But it only lasted split seconds before her mask slammed back into place. "I'm not doing this sh*t,

The Reckoning

Emilia's absence had brought something worse that fateful afternoon. Emily looked out of the window at the hesitation in his voice, the room still vibrated with the echoes of her escape, the screech of tires, the slam of the door, the ghost of her terror hanging in the air like smoke after a fire. Carl seemed to observe too as his eyes found the windows, watching the dust settle on the empty driveway. Emily remained near the door, her hand still on the frame, her breathing slow and deliberate, now that he had spoken his mind. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Emily took just one step closer as their eyes returned to each, something in her gaze had changed. There was still exhaustion, grief and all the confusion about her father there. But underneath all of that, something harder had formed. She didn't waste time. She only needed the needful done, her company saved, the bastard before her begging and the peace in her life which he stole the very first moment he walked in

Behind Closed Doors

The slid shot and Emily's left the room. This time, Carl didn't follow, or beg, he stood frozen in the middle of the bare living room, the echo of Emily's footsteps fading down the driveway, the rumble of her car engine dissolving into the afternoon, just like Emilia's.The house felt different now, not just empty, but hollowed out. As if the argument had pulled something loose from the walls and carried it away with her.He didn't move for a long time.His mind replayed the confrontation on a loop. The way she had looked at him when she was close and really looked at him again. Not with the cold dismissal he expected or with the weary resignation of someone who had long since made peace with disappointment.There had been something else buried under the anger.Something that didn't fully match hate, but it was familiar.That was the word that kept surfacing. The way she spoke. The way she fought without physical engagement and the way she held herself under pressure, back straight, c

The Photograph

He thought about the timeline. His marriage to Emily. The years before and after. The boy in the photograph couldn't be his, sure. He peered closer at Emily again this time, eyes pinned on her belly, but there were no signs that she was pregnant in the last picture they had before divorce. Yet he knew it could happen. Carl shook his head violently, pressing the photograph against his knee. His mind refused to accept what it was beginning to suspect. It was impossible. It was insane and...and...and . What if?Another question took a deep roots, it was small at first. A whisper in the back of his skull. But it grew louder, more into actual queries and then queries became possibilities which slowly steamed into something more dangerous, now. It occupied his mind all day long and left space for nothing, obsession. Sleep had failed him that night. He couldn't blink an eye. The photograph stayed on the bare wooden floor beside his sleeping bag, he had sold the bed last week to pay off a

The Maid's Secret

The police station was quieter than usual when she arrived. Then she remembered, it was court day, most prisoners were probably before a judge now.Emily walked through the familiar corridors, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor, the weight of the morning pressing down on her shoulders. The conversation with Carl still echoed in her skull, the questions he asked like he knew something about her that she didn't know, the sudden flicker in her chest, she thought died years ago. The way he had looked at her like he was seeing someone else entirely.She pushed the thoughts aside. Detective Marquez's door was half open and she knocked twice."Come in."She stepped inside. Marquez was behind his desk, a cup of coffee in one hand and a file in the other. Dark circles hung under his eyes, deeper than yesterday, if that was possible. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in weeks."Ms. Emily." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Thanks for coming." She sat, crossing her legs,

The News

The television on the wall was on, muted but still visible. News footage flickered across the screen, her company logo, her name, photographs of the South East border where the outbreak had begun. She reached for the remote and turned up the volume. "...continuing coverage of the MedEquip scandal, where a limb-eating virus has now been directly linked to unsterilized equipment exported from the company's warehouse. Hospital officials report that patients continue to present with symptoms, despite the company's claims that all products have been recalled..." Emily's jaw tightened. The screen split into four boxes. Analysts. Reporters, a former industry regulator. And then— "...and joining us now is Mr. Adrian, one of MedEquip's largest shareholders, who has just announced that he is severing ties with the company." The balding, red-faced man from the boardroom appeared on screen. He looked directly into the camera, his expression grave. "I can no longer in good conscience suppor

A Slip of Time

The afternoon sun hung low over the schoolyard, casting long shadows across the concrete. Carl had been walking aimlessly for nearly an hour, his mind still churning with the photograph, the familiar face, the questions that refused to leave him alone. He hadn't planned to come here. His feet had simply carried him, past the clinic he'd found in the grainy photograph, past the coastal town that no longer existed in any record, past the ghost of a boy whose face haunted him. And then he'd heard the shouting. Three boys who were older and bigger. Their voices harsh and mocking. "Look at the crybaby!" "Where's your mommy, little boy?" "Bet she's too busy to come get you...again." Carl rounded the corner and stopped. Leslie was pinned against the playground equipment, his shirt soaked, water dripping from his hair, his small face twisted with the effort of not crying. One of the boys was holding him by the collar. Another was laughing, a plastic bottle still in his hand.

She Just Ripped his Only Proof

The line went dead, the phone dropping to the desk. Emilia lowered the phone slowly, the plastic warm against her ear. The silence in her study pressed in, thick, suffocating. Faustina's words looped in her skull like a broken record. We have to meet today. If we don't... everything we've worked for is going to unravel. She set the phone down and stared at her reflection in the dark window. For twenty years, they'd buried it. Smoothed the dirt. Planted roses on top. And now Emily, quiet, obedient Emily, was digging with her f*cking bare hands. Emilia reached for her coat. She didn't have a choice. Across town, Emilia shoved the front door open with enough force that it cracked against the entryway wall. "I swear to God, Carl, if you start with me tonight...." She stopped suddenly, the house was wrong. There wasn't the hum of a television humming or the clatter of dishes. Just a dead, stretching quiet that made her skin prickle. Carl sat in the living room armchair, the

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