All Chapters of Bound to my Ex husband’s uncle: Chapter 41 - Chapter 49

49 Chapters

CHAPTER 41.

“Sit your fucking ass down.” I ignore him, staring ahead at the road. Then he spits it out, the words slicing through the car like a blade. “You’re acting like a damn whore.” Silence crashes down. The word hangs between us, toxic and heavy. The engine purrs on, but everything else stops. I slowly turn back toward him, not exploding in rage. Just… disappointed. Deeply, bone-weary disappointed. The streetlights flash across his face, revealing the flicker of regret that crosses his features the moment he sees my expression. Too late. It’s already out there, poisoning the air. “I can’t believe you just said that.” My voice is quiet, steady, carrying more weight than any scream could. Ethan’s breathing is still heavy, chest rising and falling. He’s still angry, eyes fixed on the road now as we merge onto a wider avenue lined with glowing storefronts. But the regret lingers in the tight set of his mouth. I don’t let the silence stretch too long. “You cheated on me, you brought anot

CHAPTER 42

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains of my separate bedroom softly. I lie there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above me, its blades cutting slow circles through the stale air. This room….once a guest suite down the hall from the master bedroom….became mine the night I found out Ethan had brought Sophia into our bed. The sheets still smelled like her perfume, faint traces of jasmine and something sweeter, more fertile. I packed a bag that same evening, moved my clothes, my books, the few pieces of jewelry that didn’t feel like lies, and closed the door on that life. The mattress here is firmer. The pillows don’t carry his scent. It’s quieter, lonelier, but it’s mine. My body aches from lack of sleep. The silk gown from last night lies draped over the armchair like a discarded skin, the fading fake bracelet resting on the nightstand beside it, its cheap gold catching the light mockingly. I sit up slowly, the cool sheets pooling around m

CHAPTER 43.

I blink, the words sinking in slowly at first, then hitting with a rush. Norway. A week away. Research. Presenting. My own work, not as Ethan’s wife or the struggling woman who can’t conceive, but as the qualified professional I’ve fought to remain. Excitement bubbles up, genuine and bright, cutting through the fog of the past weeks. My pulse quickens as a small smile spreads across my face, unstoppable. “Me?” I ask, voice lighter than it’s been in days. The conference room feels brighter suddenly, the skyline sharper through the glass. Harrison nods, gathering his notes. “Your contributions on the modeling have been standout. The board agreed….fresh perspective, solid analysis. You leave in ten days. Logistics will come through this afternoon. It’s a strong opportunity. Congratulations.” I stand there as he exits, the door clicking shut behind him, and let the excitement wash over me fully. My hands tremble slightly….not from nerves, but from something closer to hope. A week i

CHAPTER 44.

The office begins to empty around me long before I notice. One by one, conversations fade, chairs scrape softly against the polished floor as people pack their laptops into leather satchels and sling coats over their arms. Someone wishes the department a good evening, another reminds everyone about Monday's presentation. The familiar hum of company slowly quiets into something gentler. I don't look up. I'm halfway through cross-checking a series of environmental projections when another inconsistency catches my eye. I sigh. "...Seriously?" I rub the bridge of my nose before typing another note into the report. One correction becomes three, three become seven, then another spreadsheet opens. By the time I finally lean back in my chair, stretching the stiffness from my shoulders, the office around me is almost deserted. The overhead lights have dimmed automatically into their evening setting, casting everything in a softer glow. Only a handful of desks remain occ

CHAPTER 45.

The restaurant buzzes with warm evening energy, soft golden lighting spilling from pendant lamps over dark wood tables and leather booths. The scent of garlic, seared steak, and fresh herbs fills the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Claire and I sit tucked in a corner booth, plates of pasta and shared appetizers spread between us. My hair is down, loose waves brushing my shoulders. For the first time in weeks, I’m laughing genuinely, the sound mixing with Claire’s as she gestures animatedly with her fork. Norway still feels surreal, a bright spot I keep returning to in my mind. The one-week research trip, the chance to present, the distance from everything crumbling at home. Claire raises her glass of red wine, her curly hair framing her excited face. “To you kicking ass in Norway and finally putting yourself first. I’m so proud of you, Amelia. Seriously.” I clink my glass against hers, the wine rich and warming on my

CHAPTER 46.

Days later.*****The morning light slips through the curtains of my separate bedroom, pale and crisp, carrying the quiet promise of a new day. I wake slowly, heart already beating a little faster as I register the date on my phone: the day I leave for Norway. The one-week research trip. My suitcase stands packed and ready by the door….a compact roller case filled with practical layers, notebooks, my laptop, research notes printed and organized, toiletries in regulation bags. The separate room feels more like a sanctuary this morning, the bed neatly made, my clothes from yesterday folded on the chair. No trace of Ethan’s cologne or the heavy silence of shared spaces. Just mine.I shower quickly, the hot water steaming up the mirror as I wash away the last remnants of sleep and lingering nerves. My reflection shows tired eyes but a determined set to my jaw. I dress for travel: comfortable jeans, a soft sweater layered under a waterproof jacket, sturdy boots for field work, hair pulled

CHAPTER 47.

The boarding gate buzzes with chaos as passengers wheeling carry-ons, the overhead announcements crackling with flight updates, the faint scent of airport coffee and cleaning solution hanging in the air. I stand near the boarding line, passport and boarding pass in hand, my compact suitcase already checked. The excitement for Norway still hums under my skin, tempered now by the long journey ahead. I scan the crowd absentmindedly when my gaze lands on a familiar tall figure near the priority lane. Dante. Ethan’s uncle stands out effortlessly in a tailored dark coat over a crisp shirt, his presence commanding the space around him without effort. Our eyes meet across the gate area. What the fuck!!!?My stomach tightens as he approaches with measured steps, rolling a sleek black carry-on beside him. “Why didn’t anyone tell me I had a partner on this trip?” I ask as soon as he’s close enough, voice low but sharp with surprise. The line shuffles forward slowly, the gate agent scannin

CHAPTER 48.

The plane touches down with a gentle jolt on the runway in Bergen, Norway, and the world outside the window shifts from endless clouds to something breathtakingly real. Crisp, cold air presses against the glass as we taxi, carrying the faint promise of salt from the nearby fjords even through the sealed cabin. I unbuckle my seatbelt, my fingers lingering on the cool metal clasp a second longer than necessary, the hum of the engines winding down around me like a sigh of relief. The long flight is over, but the charged memory of leaning into Dante’s side lingers on my skin like a brand….his firm warmth, that intoxicating scent that wrapped around every buried desire I’ve tried to ignore since Ethan’s betrayals began. Passengers stir, gathering coats and bags with the rustle of jackets and the click of overhead bins. I stand, smoothing my sweater, the fabric soft but insufficient against the chill already seeping through the jet bridge. Dante rises across the aisle, his movement

CHAPTER 48.

The morning light filters through the heavy curtains of my room at the research lodge, softer and later than I expected. I stir slowly under the thick duvet, the crisp Norwegian air seeping through a crack in the window making the room feel refreshingly cool against my skin. My body is heavy with jet lag, muscles still remembering the long flight and the charged tension of leaning into Dante’s side. I reach for my phone on the nightstand, the screen glowing brightly in the dim room, and my heart drops. It’s almost eleven in the morning. The meeting—the important stakeholder session Dante mentioned last night—was shifted to noon. There’s barely an hour left. “Shit,” I mutter, throwing the covers back. The wooden floor is cold under my bare feet as I scramble out of bed, heart racing. No time for the leisurely morning I had vaguely planned. I need to hurry. I rush through my routine in a blur. The bathroom fills with steam as I shower quickly, hot water cascading over my skin, washing

1 2 3 4 5

SCAN CODE TO READ ON APP