All Chapters of My Abusive Ex Watched Me Marry His Stepbrother: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I wanted to argue. Wanted to pull out the contract, point to the clauses, show her in black and white that this was fair, that this was business, that emotions had no place in the equation. That was my instinct. Fight with facts. Win with logic. Crush opposition with the sheer weight of being right.But I could not stop looking at her eyes.They were red from exhaustion, glassy from unshed tears she refused to let fall, burning with a fury that came from somewhere deeper than tonight. This was not anger about a gala. This was anger about a life spent being controlled by men who treated her like property.Maxton did it with fists. I was doing it with contracts.The realization settled over me like cold water. Uncomfortable. Unwanted. True."The contract is the contract," I heard myself say, but the words sounded hollow even to me. "I can't change the terms.""I'm not asking you to change the terms." She set her whiskey glass down on the counter without drinking from it. The crystal cli

Monday, I saw him outside the grocery store. Just standing on the sidewalk across the street, hands in his pockets, watching me load bags into the trunk. By the time I looked again, he was gone.Wednesday, he appeared outside the gym. Leaning against a car, sunglasses on, that patient smile on his healing face. I turned around and went back inside, my heart hammering so hard I thought I would pass out.Friday, he stood outside my favorite coffee shop. Just standing there, watching through the glass, not coming in, not approaching. Just being present. Reminding me that he could find me anywhere, anytime, no matter whose penthouse I slept in.I told Kyle. He assigned a bodyguard within the hour.His name was Marcus, a tall, quiet man with shoulders like a refrigerator and eyes that missed nothing. He followed me everywhere, a shadow in a dark suit.But Kyle's instructions to Marcus were clear. I overheard him on the phone."Document everything. Photographs, timestamps, locations. But do

(Lara's POV)Maxton's expression flickered. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to see the real him underneath the performance. Annoyance. Frustration. The tightening of his jaw that meant his patience was running thin.Then the mask slid back into place."Baby, don't run away." His voice stayed gentle, but an edge crept in at the corners. A sharpness that only I could hear because I had spent months learning to detect the difference between safe Maxton and dangerous Maxton. "We're just talking. That's all this is. Two people who cared about each other having an adult conversation.""We're not together anymore, Maxton." I grabbed my purse from the back of my chair. "There's nothing to talk about.""There's everything to talk about." He leaned forward, and the warmth in his eyes cooled by one degree. "You married my brother three weeks after leaving me. Don't you think I deserve an explanation?""Stepbrother," I corrected, and the word tasted like Kyle in my mouth. "And no, I do

(Lara's POV)A shadow fell over both of us. Tall, broad, blocking the afternoon sun.Kyle stepped between me and Maxton like he had materialized from thin air. One second, Maxton's hand was rising toward my cheek. The next, Kyle was there, his body a wall of dark fabric and controlled fury, his back to me, his face to Maxton."Touch her again," Kyle murmured, his voice so quiet it barely carried past the three of us, "and I will end you."Maxton stumbled backward, his eyes going wide. Behind Kyle, Marcus the bodyguard stood with his phone raised, recording everything."What the hell?" Maxton looked from Kyle to Marcus to the phone camera. "Are you following me now?""Following her." Kyle did not move. Did not raise his voice. Did not need to. "To protect her from exactly this."Maxton's expression shifted. The rage drained away, replaced by something calculated and practiced. His hands came up, palms open, shoulders relaxing into a posture of innocent confusion."I was just talking to

They were going to make her relive it. Every fist, every bruise, every night spent pressing her body against locked bathroom doors. The baby she lost while Maxton laughed on the phone. The text messages from Sarah telling her son to keep his girlfriend broken because broken women were useful.All of it, pulled out of her chest and spread across a psychologist's desk like evidence in an autopsy.I should feel satisfaction about this. The evaluation was more ammunition, more fuel for the legal fire I was building around Maxton. Every terrible detail Lara described in that psychologist's office would be documented proof of what my stepbrother did. Every tear would strengthen our restraining order case, and every piece of clinical evidence would make it harder for Crawford to paint her as a liar.This was the plan working exactly as designed. This was victory taking shape.But Sofia's face was there, the way it always was when I let my guard down for too long. My sister at nineteen, sitti