บททั้งหมดของ My Ex Fiancé wants be back, but my contract husband owns me: บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

Asher's POVThe courthouse smelled like old wood and floor cleaner. That specific smell you only get in places where bad news gets delivered for a living. It was 8:47 a.m. and the hallway outside Courtroom 4B was already packed. Reporters with cameras. Lawyers with rolling briefcases. People I didn’t know who were whispering “Brooks” and “Hades” like they were praying. Amelia was next to me. Her hand was in mine, but her fingers were cold. She was wearing a black dress. Simple. No jewelry except the small studs in her ears. She looked like she was going to a funeral. Because she was. The funeral of the version of her family that used to exist. “Ready?” I asked her. She nodded. She didn’t speak. Ethan was on her other side. Mom—Scarlett—was behind us with Ivy. Ivy had a hat on. She’d been wearing it every day since the hospital. Sam’s parents were there too. Sam herself wasn’t. She was too close to her due date. And Graham wasn’t there. He was in holding. Along with Valerie a

Asher's POVThe station smelled like coffee that had been sitting too long and the faint metallic tang of the holding cells. We parked and got out. The September air was cool but it didn’t help. My shirt was sticking to my back anyway. Dashaun was waiting for us at the entrance. Priya was beside him, arms crossed, her face unreadable the way it gets when she’s trying not to show how angry she is. Ethan was already there, leaning against the brick wall with his hands in his pockets. Amelia was on my right, close enough that our shoulders brushed. “Took you long enough,” Dashaun said when he saw us. He tried for a joke but it landed flat. “What’s going on?” I asked. Priya stepped forward. “Marcus Hale. Eleanor’s lawyer. He’s here. In interview room 2.”I frowned. “And?”“And he says he’ll only talk to you,” Dashaun said. “No one else. Just Asher.”Amelia looked at me. “Do you want me to come?”“No,” I said. “I’ll go. Alone.”She nodded. Didn’t argue. Priya led me down the hall. T

Asher's POV The TV was still on mute. Damien’s face was frozen on the screen. Hoodie. Alley. That smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Amelia was pacing. Back and forth. From the kitchen to the living room to the hallway and back again. Her hands kept going to her stomach, like she’d just remembered it was there. “I’m going to my parents’ house,” she said. Her voice was too high. “Mom and Ivy are there. We’ll be safer there. Together.”“No,” I said. She stopped pacing. “What?”“It’s a bad idea,” I said. “Especially now. Especially because—”“Don’t,” she cut me off. “Don’t say it like that. Like I’m fragile.”“You’re not fragile,” I said carefully. “You’re pregnant. And you’re scared. And you’re not thinking clearly right now.”Her eyes filled. “I’m thinking clearly enough to know that we can’t stay here. He said he’s coming for us, Asher. He said it on camera.”“I know,” I said. I crossed the room and took her hands. They were shaking. “I know. But running to the Brooks Estate puts

Amelia's POV The phone rang at 1:17 a.m. I was half-asleep. Asher was asleep next to me, his arm draped over my waist, his hand resting right over where the baby was. *Scarlett.* My stomach dropped before I even answered. “Hello?” My voice came out hoarse. “Amelia.” Mom’s voice was shaking. Not crying yet. That worse kind. The kind right before. “It’s Damien.”The room went cold. “What?”“He was here,” she said. The words were tumbling out now. “He broke in. He took Ivy. I tried to stop him. The security— they were too late. He has her. He hit her head, Amelia. She’s knocked out. He drove off with her.”I sat straight up. The blanket fell off me. “Where are you? Are you okay? Is anyone hurt?”“I’m okay,” she said, but she wasn’t. I could hear it. “The police are here. Dashaun. Priya. Ethan just got here too.”I was already out of bed. “I’m coming. I’m coming right now.”“Amelia—”I hung up. Asher was already sitting up. “What happened?”“Damien,” I said, pulling on clothes wi

Amelia's POV 11:58 a.m. The Sinclair warehouse on 8th and Merrow looked exactly like what it was: abandoned. Broken windows. Rusted doors. Weeds growing through the cracks in the concrete. My hands were on the wheel but I couldn’t feel them. The wire under my shirt itched. The bag on the passenger seat was heavy. Cash. Passport. New identity. And me. I was terrified. Not for me. For the baby. For Ivy. For Sam. I took a breath. Then another. “Bluebird,” I whispered into the mic. “I’m here.”Asher’s voice came back immediately in my earpiece. “I see you. We’re in position. Two blocks out. You’re not alone.”I got out of the car. The bag felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. The door to the warehouse was half open. It groaned when I pushed it. Inside was dark. Dust in the air. The smell of old oil and metal. “Damien?” I called out. My voice echoed. “Damien, it’s me.”No answer. I waited. One minute. Two. Five. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.