All Chapters of Mr Ex, Call me your uncle's wife now.: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Vivian's POVThe rain continued to pound against the pavement as Ethan carried me effortlessly toward his car. His arms were firm around me, one supporting my back, the other cradling my legs. I was acutely aware of how small I felt in his grip, how easily he held me as if I weighed nothing at all. The umbrella he had been holding was now abandoned on the ground, forgotten, as he protected me from the downpour with his own body.I didn't speak. I couldn't. My throat was raw from crying, my body trembling from the cold, my mind spinning with everything that had happened. The hospital. My mother, Derek, and now Ethan, appearing out of nowhere like some kind of guardian angel.He opened the passenger door of his sleek black car and gently lowered me into the seat. The leather was warm, a stark contrast to the cold that had seeped into my bones. Before I could say anything, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. The fabric was heavy and warm, carrying the faint

Vivian's POVThe unknown number lingered in my mind long after I ended the call. I had said nothing, listening to the silence stretch between us before the line went dead. No explanation. No follow-up. Just those words, hanging in the air like a question mark.“Mrs. Blackwell. I think we need to talk.”I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was a wrong number, a prank, anything but what my gut was screaming it might be. But the thought burrowed into my skull like a parasite, feeding on my anxiety. Who was that? What did they want? And why now, when everything already felt like it was crumbling around me?By the time I reached home, the house was dark and empty. Ethan wasn't back yet. I didn't know if I was relieved or disappointed. I climbed the stairs, showered, and collapsed into bed, but sleep didn't come easily. My mind replayed Sandra's threats, the mystery caller, the whole event of the day. It was a symphony of chaos, and I was the conductor, unable to stop the music.The n

Vivian's POVI walked out of the cafe without looking back, anger welling up inside me. I reached my car, my hands shaking so badly I dropped my keys twice before managing to unlock the door. I slid into the driver's seat, gripped the steering wheel, and sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing. My breath came in short, ragged gasps, and I forced myself to inhale slowly, to push the panic down.Get it together, Vivian. Calm down.I started the engine and pulled out of the parking spot, merging into traffic on autopilot. The city blurred past me, lights flickering on as dusk settled over the streets. I didn't know where I was going at first. My hands seemed to guide the wheel on their own, taking me away from the chaos, away from the cameras and the whispers.Before I knew it, I was pulling into the driveway of the house. Our house. Ethan's and mine.The mansion loomed before me, dark and silent. No lights in the windows. A few cars in the driveway. Ethan was out on a business t

Vivian's POVThe morning sun felt like a punishment.I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, studying the woman staring back at me. Ethan had already left for the office, his parting words still ringing in my ears. Don't mess this up, Vivian. Just do as I say.As if I had any other choice.I smoothed down the lapels of my cream-colored blazer, took a deep breath, and headed downstairs. The car was waiting, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows, the driver holding the door open with practiced efficiency. I slid into the back seat, the leather cool against my legs, and stared out the window as the city blurred past.The office building loomed ahead, a glass monolith that seemed to touch the clouds. As we approached, I could see them… the reporters. They swarmed the front entrance like vultures circling prey, cameras flashing, microphones thrust forward. The security team held them back with firm hands and stern expressions, but their hungry eyes followed the car as w

Vivian's POVThe first thing I registered was the smell.Warm, buttery, sweet pancakes. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I had no idea where I was. The ceiling was unfamiliar, painted a soft lavender instead of the stark white of my bedroom at the mansion. The sheets were soft cotton, not the expensive silk I was used to. And the light streaming through the window was warm and golden.Then it all came rushing back. Sophie's place. I stretched and sat up. The guest room was cozy, filled with personal touches… a stack of books on the nightstand, a flower pot, a framed photo of Sophie and me at a camp.I walked out of the room, following the delicious aroma to the kitchen. And there she was… Sophie, standing at the stove in her fuzzy socks and an apron flipping pancakes with practiced ease."Morning, sleepyhead," she said without turning around. "I was starting to think you'd sleep the whole day away."I leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at my lips. "What time