All Chapters of My Ex husband left me to die, Now I watch him burn : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

"Have you signed them yet, Andrea?!" Veronica’s voice cracked as she marched back and forth across the marble floor, her heels slamming down hard against the shiny tiles. She grabbed the tablet off the glass coffee table, her eyes glued to the divorce papers Vanessa’s lawyer had just sent over. "No, I haven't signed yet. I just walked through the door, Mum, to deal with this nonsense," Andrea said. He kicked back against the couch cushions, waving his hand like it was no big deal, though his jaw was set tight. *Who did she think she was, rushing him like this?* "If you let this go through, who is going to pay the rent next month? Who is paying for Leo’s private school?!" Veronica threw her arms in the air, her face turning dark red. "Vanessa’s money pays for everything in this house! We can't afford to lose our cash cow! Do you have any idea what happens to us if her paycheck stops coming in on the first of the month?!" Susan sat curled up on the other sofa, holding a frozen

Heavy, irritated footsteps thumped violently against the upstairs floorboards as Andrea came charging down the staircase, his designer shirt unbuttoned and his face flushed red. "Mom, what the hell are you screaming for?! Are you insane?!" A second later, Susan strolled out from the master bedroom upstairs, casually smoothing down her rumpled silk dress and fixing her messy hair. She stepped down the stairs right behind Andrea, completely unbothered, her cheeks still warm and glowing. Andrea marched into the living room, but stopped dead in his tracks, his nostrils flaring in utter disgust. The apartment was an absolute disaster area. Flies buzzed lazily over a decaying tower of greasy takeaway containers stacked on the coffee table. In the kitchen sink, crusty plates, unwashed frying pans, and moldy coffee mugs had been piling up for three straight days, releasing a sour, rotting stench that drifted all the way into the foyer. On the rug, Leo was throwing a violent tantrum,

Inside the muggy, dust-choked living room of the apartment, the air hung heavy and stagnant, saturated with the foul stench of unwashed dishes, rancid grease, and rotting takeaway containers accumulating in the overflowing sink. The brutal afternoon heat had soaked deep into the thin concrete walls during the peak of the day, turning the small, crowded space into a suffocating box. Overhead, the cheap plastic ceiling fan groaned weakly on its highest setting, its motor humming a low, irritating buzz while doing little more than pushing the hot, dusty air in lazy, ineffective circles. On the worn, peeling leather couch, Andrea sat back, sprawling his legs across the coffee table while swirling the last lukewarm drops of cheap scotch in a cloudy glass. Susan leaned close against his side, her skin sticky with sweat, looking up at him with wide, desperate admiration. Across the room, Veronica sat stiffly in an armchair, her face flushed a blotchy red as she furiously fanned herself

"Vanessa!" Andrea’s voice barked into the receiver the exact second he hit the green button, his tone heavy with practiced authority, impatience, and raw agitation. "Where on earth are you?! We’ve been sitting in this miserable, sweltering apartment for hours! You knew the agreement was eight o'clock sharp!" Across the asphalt road inside her ice-cold, climate-controlled command center, Miss Axerold sat back in her ergonomic executive leather chair. On her central monitor, a high-definition 4K optical feed showed Andrea standing in the middle of his living room, his linen shirt damp, rumpled, and stained with dark rings of sweat around the collar. She took a slow, deliberate sip of iced sparkling water, letting the silence stretch across the line just long enough to hear his heavy, frustrated breathing turn shallow and sharp. When she finally spoke, her tone softened into a deliberate, apologetic tremble that practically radiated helpless panic. "Andrea... I am so, so sorry," Vane