Semua Bab Bound to my Ex husband’s uncle: Bab 81 - Bab 90

A while later the rhythm of the lab has settled into the low, focused sounds of work….glassware clinking, the soft beep of digital scales, the steady hiss of the fume hoods. Tiffany has grown increasingly restless across from me, she keeps glancing toward the lab doors, her gloved fingers tapping against the edge of the bench.Finally she straightens and slides the primary sample tray toward herself.“I’ll run the next set,” she says, voice clipped. “You log. I’m better at the measurements anyway.”I do not argue. I pull the logbook closer, pen ready, and watch as she begins the procedure with sharp, almost aggressive precision. She measures, mixes, adjusts the concentration with movements that are a little too quick, a little too forceful. I note each step carefully, the numbers clean and exact on the page even as the atmosphere between us remains cold.The lab doors open. A small group of people enter…two external safety inspectors in formal coats and, behind them, Dante. He is

Dante’s POVIm standing outside Amelia’s hospital room when the doors at the end of the corridor burst open and Ethan comes barreling through like he owns the place, face flushed, coat still on, eyes already locked on me. The fluorescent lights make the anger on his face look even more pronounced.“Where is she?” he demands, voice too loud for a hospital corridor. “What the hell happened to my wife?”I look at him for half a second….this man who cut off her father’s care the moment she walked out, who tried to buy her silence with thirty-eight million dollars in diamonds, who has spent months turning every vulnerability she has into leverage…..and I feel nothing but cold contempt. I don’t answer, I simply turn and walk away, putting deliberate distance between us, until I find a quiet stretch of chairs near the far window and sit.He follows…..Of course he follows.“I’m talking to you,” he says, stopping in front of me. “Why is my wife in the hospital? What the fuck happened in tha

I wake the next morning to the smell of coffee and toast. Claire is already in the small kitchen, moving quietly so she doesn’t startle me.When I appear in the doorway she turns and gives me a once-over, eyes lingering on the fresh bandages at my neck and shoulder.“Breakfast is ready,” she says. “How bad is the pain?”“Manageable.” I sit at the table. She has made eggs, toast, and strong coffee….simple, solid food. I eat slowly, careful not to turn my head too far in either direction.Claire watches me for a moment, then asks the question I know has been sitting with her since last night.“Are you sure you want to go in today? No one would blame you for taking another day.”I set the fork down and meet her eyes.“I’m sure. Fuck that bitch. I’m not staying home so she can walk around thinking the explosion worked.”Claire holds my gaze, then nods once. “Okay. I’ll drive you.”The ride to the building is quiet. Claire keeps the music low and the driving smooth. When we pull up outsi

I stop short in the aisle, the carton of eggs still in my hand. Sophia stands less than two feet away, one hand resting on the curve of her pregnant belly, the other holding a small shopping basket. For a second neither of us speaks. The store continues around us….carts rolling, soft music playing overhead, someone laughing in the next aisle…..but the space between us feels sealed off. Sophia’s eyes move over me, lingering on the edge of the bandage visible above my collar. “You look terrible,” she says, almost conversational. “I heard about the lab. Acid, wasn’t it? How… unfortunate.” I set the eggs carefully in my basket. My shoulder throbs in time with my pulse. “What do you want, Sophia?” She shifts her weight, the basket swinging lightly. “Ethan is in a state. The family too. Your little disappearance, the divorce talk, the way you publicly rejected his gift…..people are talking. Some of them are saying you’ve lost your mind. Others are saying you’re just bitter because

I wake to the familiar deep ache in my left shoulder and the side of my neck. The burn has settled into a stubborn, grinding heat that flares whenever I shift against the pillow. For a long moment I lie still in the small bedroom of Aunt Maren’s apartment, staring at the ceiling, letting the previous days settle into something I can actually use. The grocery-store footage cleared me. Ethan still tried to turn Sophia’s performance against me. The investigation into Tiffany is moving. And the notebook on the nightstand still has one line underlined twice.File for divorce.I sit up carefully, swing my legs over the side of the bed, and reach for the phone. Claire’s lawyer contact is already saved. I send a short message requesting the earliest possible consultation and, while I wait, open the notes I wrote two nights ago. Dates. Times. The rejected gift. The medical threat. The false accusation. The lab explosion. Seeing it all in one place steadies me more than the pain medication does