Todos los capítulos de Divorced After One Night: The Plus-Size Ex-Wife’s Revenge: Capítulo 131 - Capítulo 140

Jason didn't come home until almost midnight. When he arrived, he didn't say a word to Sloane. He walked past the kitchen, where she sat with a glass of wine she hadn't touched, and went straight into his study. The door closed quietly behind him.She knew where he'd been. She hadn't needed to ask.She sat there for a while, the wine growing warm in her glass. She thought about the conversation she'd had with Cordelia a few days earlier, when Cordelia had laid out three possible paths on the tea tray. She wondered which one Jason had just learned about that night.Eventually, she got up and knocked on the study door."Jason."There was no answer."I know you talked to her," Sloane said through the door. "I'd rather hear it from you than sit here guessing."The door opened a minute later. Jason looked older than he had that morning, as if something had worn him down in just a few hours."She's known for years," he said. "Since shortly after he was born. She let me marry you and build a

Marcus's letter arrived on a Tuesday, delivered to the Crane Global offices in a plain envelope that Jason's assistant brought in without comment, the way she brought in everything these days, careful not to ask questions about whatever had been making her boss so distracted.He read it twice at his desk. Formal, clean, exactly the kind of language lawyers used when they wanted to be unmistakably clear without sounding like a threat. *Any future contact with Rowan should be arranged through his parents directly. This is not a legal demand, simply a request that we hope you'll respect given the circumstances.*He sat with it a long moment, the paper flat on his desk, and did something he hadn't let himself do in days.He called her.He used the number Daxton had given him weeks ago for business matters, not expecting her to pick up at all, and was surprised when she did, her voice careful, like she already suspected who it might be before he said a word."Jason.""I got the letter," he

I didn't sleep much that night, the letter sitting on the nightstand the whole time like it had weight, like it was actually pressing down on the room instead of just taking up a few square inches of space.I thought about calling Dana, the way I used to when I couldn't sort something out alone, and decided against it. This wasn't a question Dana could answer for me. This was mine to sit with.I got up a little after six, while Daxton and Rowan were both still asleep, and made coffee I didn't really want, just to have something to do with my hands.I thought about my father too, though the letter hadn't mentioned him at all. I wondered if he knew she'd written it. I wondered if he even cared that Rowan existed, or if five years of silence from him meant exactly what it had always meant, that his daughter's life only mattered to him when it threatened something he was trying to protect.I thought about the conversation in his office, the folder he'd slid across the desk instead of aski

He called the next morning instead of texting, because some things, he'd decided somewhere around three in the morning, didn't deserve to be typed out and sent off like an ordinary message. She picked up on the third ring. "Jason." "I need to see you," he said. "In person. Not Daxton, not through Marcus, not through a letter. Just you, for ten minutes, somewhere public if that makes you feel safer." There was a pause long enough that he thought she might just hang up. "This isn't about Rowan showing up somewhere again, is it," she said finally, careful. "No," he said. "It's about something I did. Something I need to tell you myself, before you hear it any other way." "That sounds ominous." "It is," he admitted. "I'm not going to pretend otherwise." She agreed to meet him at a coffee shop two blocks from her hotel, neutral ground, the kind of place with enough people around that neither of them could make a scene even if they wanted to. He got there first and sat near

He noticed before either of us said anything to him. Kids always seemed to notice the very things adults tried hardest to hide.It was dinner, and we had ordered room service because none of us had the energy to go out. Rowan sat at the little table, pushing his pasta around without eating much. He kept watching Daxton and me with an unusual level of attention, the kind he usually reserved for things that interested him more than anything else, like dinosaurs."Are you guys mad at each other?" he asked."No, buddy," Daxton said too quickly, the way adults often answered when the real answer was complicated. "Why would you think that?""You keep doing the quiet thing," Rowan said. "Where you talk with your eyes instead of your mouths."I looked at Daxton, and we exchanged a glance, exactly the kind of silent communication Rowan had just described. That certainly didn't help our case."We're not mad at each other," I said carefully. "Grown-ups just have boring things to think about some