All Chapters of Divorced by the Hockey Captain: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Tabitha’s POV I couldn’t stop twisting the thin silver ring on my thumb.My knuckles were bone-white, but I just kept spinning the damn thing until the skin burned. We were sitting in the visitor annex of the precinct, the ugly fluorescent lights buzzing over our heads like angry wasps.I shouldn’t be here, my brain screamed at me, my stomach rolling in sour, hot waves. I should be at the café picking out light switches. I should be at home with my feet up, eating those chocolate biscuits Bradley bought.Part of me desperately wanted the truth. I had spent twelve years feeling like a stray dog whose collar got ripped off, wondering why nobody came looking for me, why my life had felt so shattered from day one. But the other part? The terrified kid curled up inside my chest? She was screaming that digging up these bones wasn’t going to fix anything. It was just going to make the grave deeper.“Tabby, hey,” Ava’s voice broke through my spiral, firm but grounding. She leaned across the

Author's POVAva had spent the whole morning setting boundaries in her head.She kept repeating that she had no business thinking about Julian. She was a working attorney with bills to cover and a massive stack of cases on her desk. She told herself that while pouring coffee, answering emails, and dumping junk mail into the bin.The resolve held until lunch, when the mobile lit up with his contact.She answered with an exaggerated groan. “What do you need, Darlington?”“Did you remember lunch, Counselor?” His low tone came across the line, sounding far too relaxed for someone who had almost kissed her by the steps two nights earlier.She stared toward the ceiling. “I have things to finish.”“Things that let you skip eating entirely?”“It means mind your own business,” she said, scrolling through her files. “I have three court filings that need to go out before the afternoon deadline.”“Understood,” he said softly. “Try not to eat your desk supplies.”Less than an hour later, the entry

Author’s POV Four days.Four goddamn days, and Bradley Norwood hadn’t made a single sound.Rachelle paced across the white fur rug in her bedroom, her silk robe dragging against the floor, her phone clutched tight in her grip.Nothing.No televised press conference. No furious midnight calls demanding to know why she had leaked Tabitha’s sealed juvenile files. No emergency statements trying to protect his precious family name.Just silence. Cold, arrogant silence.He’s ignoring me, she thought, the realization burning through her veins. He thinks I’m just a barking dog on the sidewalk. He thinks he can tuck Tabitha away in that shabby little brownstone, buy her groceries, play daddy to that blue-haired brat, and wait for me to tire myself out.An argument she could handle. A screaming match she could manipulate. If Bradley had stormed in here accusing her of ruining Tabitha’s life, she would have cried, played the betrayed victim, and twisted his guilt until he apologized.But this d

Author’s POV Ava spent twenty minutes convincing her bathroom mirror that this was purely an investigative exercise.“Field research,” she muttered, adjusting the collar of an emerald-green silk blouse beneath her charcoal blazer. “You are assessing behavioral patterns. You are determining whether Julian Darlington is actually an intriguing human being or if you’ve just developed a Pavlovian response to high-end carbohydrate delivery.”She dabbed a touch of berry gloss on her lips, cursed herself for checking her hair three times, and grabbed her clutch.Naturally, Darlington noticed the effort the second she slid into the leather passenger seat of his coupe.He didn’t make a scene about it while navigating through the downtown traffic, nor when he crammed his low-slung car into an impossibly narrow spot beside a loading bay with his usual infuriating nonchalance.He waited until they were tucked into a quiet booth at a candlelit French bistro, halfway through a plate of seared scal

Tabitha’s POVI spotted him the second the elevator doors slid open on the third floor.Bradley was sitting in the corner of the obstetrics waiting room, looking so out of place among the pastel wallpaper and pamphlets on infant latching.I stopped in front of his chair, leaning slightly to ease the ache in my lower back, biting the inside of my cheek to kill a smirk."Are you nervous?" I asked.Bradley jerked his head up, his dark eyes instantly locking onto mine before sweeping down to my belly. He stood up fast and smoothed down the front of his jacket."No," he grunted.His knee gave another twitch.I tilted my head, looking down at his boots, then back to his face. "Right. Of course not. That's why you're vibrating hard enough to trigger a seismic alert."A faint, sheepish color crept up his neck. "Just making sure we weren't late.""We're twenty minutes early, Bradley.""Early is on time," he muttered, though the tense line of his mouth softened as he reached out, hovering a lar