Todos os capítulos de My Abusive Ex Watched Me Marry His Stepbrother: Capítulo 81 - Capítulo 90

(Lara's POV)I did not sleep. Not one minute, not one second, not one merciful moment of unconsciousness to break the loop running inside my head.Kyle's mouth on mine. His hands gripping my face like I was the only real thing in a world made of smoke. His voice cracking on "don't leave me" the way glass cracks before it shatters completely.And then the cold, the familiar cold that always followed his moments of vulnerability, sliding back into place like armor being bolted over a wound.I lay in the guest room staring at the ceiling, my body still humming from the kiss, my mind furious with my body for remembering every detail when my brain was trying so hard to forget.He saw me as a tool. He told me that. Multiple times, in multiple ways, using multiple versions of the same devastating truth.I was a contract. A weapon. A means to an end. And no amount of desperate kisses in hallways or whispered confessions in the dark could change what he was at his core.A man who destroyed wha

(Lara's POV)Sarah's eyes burned into me from across the conference table with a hatred so concentrated I could almost feel it scorching my skin. Her perfectly manicured fingers gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, her jaw locked so tight the tendons in her neck stood out like cords.But Catherine sat beside me, and the quiet squeeze she gave my knee under the table sent a wave of calm through my body that Sarah's death stare could not penetrate."I want to understand something," Catherine addressed the board, her voice carrying the effortless authority of a woman who had been commanding rooms since most of these people were in college. "My son has led this company to record profits for seven consecutive years. He has navigated market downturns, hostile takeovers, and international expansion without losing a single quarter. And you want to remove him because of rumors printed in gossip magazines funded by this woman's PR team?"Catherine gestured toward Sarah without loo

(Kyle's POV)I did not know why I was doing this.That was the lie I kept telling myself as I sat in my office reviewing the legal documents my team had prepared against Sarah Morrison and every person who had posted defamatory content about Lara online. I told myself it was strategic. Told myself it was about protecting the company's image, preserving the marriage narrative, maintaining the careful architecture of revenge I had spent months constructing.But the truth sat in my chest like a stone I could not swallow, and no amount of corporate language could dissolve it.I was doing this because the thought of Lara sitting alone in my penthouse, scrolling through comments that called her a whore and a gold digger and a woman who drove her boyfriend to a mental breakdown, made something inside me burn with a fury that had nothing to do with business.I was falling for her. The realization had been creeping up on me for weeks, quiet and persistent, like water seeping through cracks in

(Kyle's POV)Lara's words echoed through the penthouse long after she slammed her bedroom door shut, bouncing off the marble walls and settling into my chest like shrapnel I could not remove."You added fuel to the fire. Everyone is protesting against me because of what you did. My reputation is worse now because you're suing everybody who has an opinion."She was right. The realization burned through my pride like acid through metal, eating away at the certainty I had built around my decision until nothing was left except the ugly truth underneath.I tried to be her hero, and I made her life worse. The lawsuits I filed to protect her had turned into proof that she needed a billionaire to fight her battles. Every cease and desist letter I sent became evidence that I was silencing free speech on behalf of my controversial wife. Every legal action my team executed with surgical precision had been twisted by Sarah's PR machine into another chapter of the same story they had been writing

(Lara's POV)The headlines were getting worse every day, but something inside me had shifted. A quiet, stubborn flame that refused to go out no matter how much cold water the world poured on it.Maxton and Sarah could paint whatever picture they wanted. They could cry on television and hire PR firms and send strangers to harass me on suburban sidewalks. None of it mattered anymore, because I was done letting other people's version of my story define who I was.I spent my first morning at a yoga studio three blocks from the penthouse, stretching muscles that had been locked tight with anxiety for months. The instructor was a woman named Grace who spoke in soft tones and never asked personal questions, and for one blessed hour I existed inside my own body without thinking about contracts or board meetings or the man whose dark eyes haunted me every time I closed mine.After yoga, I walked six blocks south to a self defense studio that offered beginner classes for women. The instructor w