All Chapters of My Ex husband left me to die, Now I watch him burn : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

The morning heat had already turned the third-floor apartment into a humid pressure cooker, the thick air clinging to skin like a wet blanket. Little Leo was awake now, his whimpering escalating into full-blown, hysterical wailing. The six-year-old sat on the edge of the stained couch, his face bright red, rubbing his swollen eyes with tiny fists as sweat trickled down his neck. The unbearable temperature and the loud, aggressive shouting match from earlier had completely terrified him. "Oh, shut up, boy! You are doing too much!" Susan screamed, her voice cracking with pure, razor-thin irritation as she swung around from the window. She clutched her damp collar, fanning herself frantically with a crumpled piece of mail. "My head is splitting into two, and all I hear is this constant screaming! Do something about him!" "Take your hands off your ears and act like a human being for once in your life!" Veronica barked, stepping into Susan’s space with a menacing glare. "Are you not his

The local open-air market was a vibrant hum of morning activity, swept by a cool, fresh breeze rolling off the nearby riverfront. As Matt pulled his heavy-duty pickup truck into a shaded parking slot, he rounded the hood to open the passenger door for Vanessa. Step by step, they walked toward the bustling stalls—the contrast stark between Matt’s dust-streaked work clothes and Vanessa’s tailored linen trousersuit and dark sunglasses. Vanessa stopped beneath the shaded canvas awning of a boutique produce vendor, turning to look up at her head contractor with a warm, genuine smile. "Thank you, Matt," Vanessa said softly, her voice rich with gratitude. "You did not have to do any of this." "Nonsense, Miss Axerold," Matt replied with an easy grin, adjusting his hold on two heavy woven baskets he had carried from the truck. "You brought me on to manage renovations, but hauling bulk catering supplies for a proper meal is a privilege. Besides, my crew has been working straight through the

The afternoon sun hit the concrete balcony of Apartment 301 like a magnifying glass, pushing the interior temperature past forty degrees Celsius. Inside, the air was thick, stagnant, and sour—heavy with the suffocating stench of unwashed laundry, backed-up plumbing, and rotten food leftovers melting in the dead refrigerator. Andrew sat on the stained leather sofa, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar as he aggressively fanned himself with a folded newspaper. Across from him, Susan lay curled up on the opposite end of the couch, her bare feet propped up near her brother’s lap as he picked mindlessly at the frayed threads of his trousers. His phone, like everyone else’s in the apartment, had died hours ago when the power vanished. The heavy, uncomfortably familiar posture between the two went far beyond normal sibling boundaries, but neither cared to adjust. A sharp, firm knock echoed off the front door. Veronica rushed out of the kitchen, wiping her sweaty hands on a greasy

The heavy glass doors of the Axerold Estate main house slid shut with a soft hiss, instantly cutting off the suffocating 40°C heat and the noise of the power tools outside. The cool air conditioning hit Vanessa immediately, fresh and smelling of clean floor polish and wood. Matt walked right behind her, carrying the big market tote into the kitchen and dropping it onto the marble counter with a heavy breath. "Thanks again, Matt," Vanessa said, turning around and taking a small towel to wipe the sweat from her neck. "I know carrying market bags isn't part of your job." Matt laughed, wiping his brow with his sleeve. "Call it site prep, Miss Axerold. Carrying that much meat and peppers in this sun is no joke." Vanessa let out a laugh, shaking her head as she pulled a fresh navy apron out of her bag. "Site prep? You're turning my market run into construction work now?" "Hey, it counts," Matt said with a grin. "Every project needs good site prep. If my crew collapses from hunger under

"Took you long enough," Andrew breathed out, his voice cracking with a sudden, wild mixture of relief and forced arrogance as he gripped the hot brass doorknob. Vanessa didn't answer right away. She stood framed in the dim concrete corridor, immaculate in her tailored ivory linen suit, completely untouched by the stifling, 42°C heat radiating from the stairwell. In her right hand, she held the sleek, insulated thermal bag, her expression smooth, composed, and unreadable. Her quiet presence carried a sharp, undeniable authority that filled the narrow hallway, turning the grimy passage into her personal stage. Inside, the silence cracked instantly. Veronica pushed herself off the frayed sofa, her red, sweat-streaked eyes widening as she staggered toward the entryway to see who was at the door. For a fraction of a second, absolute shock washed over her face—Vanessa looked so striking, so commanding, so entirely out of reach that it felt like looking at a high-society stranger rather th