All Chapters of Disappeared After Divorce: Came Back For Revenge: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I had convinced myself that Carson would refuse to see me, that he would leave my desperate request hanging unanswered. Yet, against my expectations, he acquiesced, letting his secretary slot me into his pristine calendar.​Now, I stood alone in the quiet corridor outside his office.​A neutral cafe or a crowded lounge would have been far easier. All I needed was a single, painful answer regarding the final autopsy report of my father. But Carson had remained immovable in the venue, insisting on his own territory. I refrained from pushing back, silenced by the fragile fear that the slightest resistance might cause him to retract the meeting entirely.​My knuckles struck the heavy timber of his door once, twice, three times. Nothing moved on the other side. Silence stretched out, heavy and mocking.​Resigned, I pulled my phone from my clutch and dialed his number. The line clicked open almost immediately.​"Lora?" His deep voice resonated through the speaker.​"My feet are practically

Standing outside the monolithic structure of the medical examiner’s office, the air felt heavy with the lingering echo of my father’s final hours. My fingers tightened their grip on the slippery, mesh fabric of my long-sleeved blouse, twisting the edge until my knuckles turned pale. A deep, unsteady breath rushed into my lungs, but instead of anchoring me, it pulled me backward through time, landing me right on the cold morning they brought his body through those doors. The grief returned instantly, a hollow, suffocating weight that pressed into my chest. Ever since I began digging into the quiet inconsistencies surrounding his death, the ache of his absence had become a constant shadow, leaving behind an unbearable longing for a reality where he never left.​Unanswered questions whirled endlessly through my mind. Had my father lived, the world would never have dared to treat me so callously. He would have stood as a shield between me and every cruel judgment, and perhaps Carson would

​I leaned back against the headboard, resting the weight of my head against my intertwined hands, staring blankly at the dark outline of the bedroom door. My mind refused to settle. Lora’s words looped endlessly in my head, over and over, paired with the vivid memory of her face—the pure, unadulterated conviction in her eyes when she called me a murderer. It haunted me, casting a shadow over the quiet bedroom that no light could pierce.​A sharp jolt of awareness broke through my spiral as I felt a touch beneath the fabric of my sleepwear. Samantha’s hand slid lower, warm against my skin, gently teasing my manhood. For a fleeting second, my body responded, a momentary pulse of heat hardening beneath her fingers, only to vanish just as quickly, softening into complete apathy. She shifted closer, pressing in to kiss me, her mouth searching for mine. Instinct took over before my conscious mind could stop it. My head turned away, pulling my face out of her reach, avoiding the contact enti

The weight of the afternoon demanded solitude, heavy enough that I dismissed my driver at the company gates and took the wheel myself. The engine’s hum filled the quiet cabin as I navigated the winding streets, my eyes catching the muted glow of a corner florist. Moments later, a crisp bouquet of white tulips rested on the passenger seat beside me, their fresh petals fragrant and cold against the leather.​My tires crunched over the gravel paths of the cemetery, cutting through a silence broken only by the distant rustle of leaves. I stepped out into the damp air, carrying the flowers toward the stone bearing Mr. Vance’s name. A lingering shadow of guilt pressed against my chest. Even knowing my hands were clean of his death, the recent revelation of foul play hung over me like a storm cloud. I had let his autopsy report sit unread on my desk years ago, a folded document full of truths I had been too blind or too distracted to seek out.​I approached the grave and sank down onto the c

The ambient warmth of the design studio is hummed with soft, steady friction. Fine silver filings danced through hazy dust motes, settling over velvet tray after velvet tray. I leaned against a heavy mahogany workbench, watching three artisans bend fine wire into delicate, sweeping filigree with tiny pliers. Sweat glistened on their temples under bright desk lamps, but no matter how intricate their craftsmanship remained, the company ledgers sitting upstairs painted a darker reality. Columns of red ink spilled across the fresh financial statements. Down four percent last month, another seven percent this week. Ever since La Lora’s enigmatic new Chief Executive stepped out from behind closed doors to claim their market share, Hemswood Lux had been bleeding prestige and profit in silence.​Memory pulled me back to a cold, echo filled room six months ago. Lora had signed the final divorce papers with deliberate, chilling grace, sliding the fountain pen across the marble desk before meeti