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Chapter 73
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2024-11-14 05:52:18
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Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart Chapter 74
Sarah’s PovThe morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, soft and warm. I could feel it on my face before I even opened my eyes, and for a second, I just stayed there, wrapped up in that gentle warmth. Richard’s arm was around me, and he was breathing slowly and steadily beside me. He looked so peaceful, and I almost didn’t want to wake him. But as usual, my mind started drifting.What would our life be like, years from now? Would it still feel this calm, this... simple? I turned over, my nose almost touching his. He stirred a little, one eye cracking open as if he could feel me staring.“You’re awake already?” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep. “Barely,” I teased, brushing a bit of hair off his forehead. “Maybe I just like staring at you while you sleep.”He gave a half-grin, eyes still closed. “A bit creepy, don’t you think?”I nudged his shoulder. “You like it.”“Maybe.” He rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. “So, what’s the plan today? Or are we
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Richard’s pov.The guy with the camera? Probably nothing. Or at least that’s what I kept telling Sarah, and myself too, to be honest. Maybe the guy with the camera was just some paparazzi, bored and out for a scoop, or maybe just a regular guy who thought he’d seen someone he knew. Sarah seemed rattled, though, and I couldn’t stand seeing her like that.What bothered me most wasn’t the guy himself but Sarah’s reaction. She hadn’t said much, but I could see the worry in her eyes, the way her shoulders tensed every time we passed someone on the street. I hated seeing her like that — on edge, nervous. So I tried to shake it off. Whoever the guy was, he was gone now, probably just some nosy photographer or someone who thought they’d seen a celebrity. Yeah, that was it. Simple. After all, I just announced my re-engagement to Sarah, so it was normal for the paparazzi to want to take pictures.As we got back to the apartment, Sarah went to put her things down, and I could see she was stil
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Richard’s Pov.After that strange text, my mind wouldn’t let it go. “Enjoy the laughs while you can.” I’d kept the message to myself, not wanting to worry Sarah. I didn’t even know what it meant, and I didn’t want to freak her out for no reason. But the words hung there in my head like a bad smell. I had to shake it off, though. Tonight was supposed to be fun, light, relaxed — exactly what she needed after that weird guy with the camera.We’d just gotten back from the comedy club, and Sarah was looking at me with that soft smile of hers, eyes shining. I figured maybe I could keep things light, get her laughing again. What better way than to cook dinner myself?“Stay right there,” I told her, leading her to the couch and giving her a little nudge to sit. “I’m gonna whip us up something amazing. You just relax.”She laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You? Cooking?”“Hey, I can cook,” I said, puffing my chest out a little. I wasn’t exactly a five-star chef, but how hard could it be?She ju
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Sarah’s pov.Richard tried to brush it off, but I could see something had caught his attention. He kept glancing out the window, his smile tight, eyes a bit too serious. My own stomach twisted a little. The dinner, the laughs — it had felt like we’d slipped into our own little world, but now, something about his unease tugged me back to reality.“Richard,” I nudged, my voice softer, “what is it, really? You’re worrying me.”He looked at me, then back at the window, like he was trying to figure out what to say. “It’s just… There's a car out there. Been sitting there for a while now.”A prickle ran down my spine. I shifted in my seat, glancing out the window without trying to look too obvious. Sure enough, there it was. An old sedan parked across the street, the lights dimmed, engine humming. Whoever was in there didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave. “Maybe they’re just… lost?” I offered, trying to make it sound convincing, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or m
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Richard’s povThe morning started off as one of those rare, lazy days. I’d woken up with Sarah curled up beside me, her hair fanning across the pillow in wild waves. The sun peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Everything seemed perfect. Calm. Until I tried to sneak out of bed.“Where do you think you’re going?” Her voice was muffled, half-asleep, but she caught me.“Thought I’d get us coffee.” I grinned, still only halfway off the bed.She lifted her head, one eye open and suspicious. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you were avoiding the dishes last night. You don’t get coffee privileges till you do them.”I held up my hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Dishes first, coffee later.”On my way to the kitchen, I passed by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the estate. Everything looked normal—guards in their usual spots, the gates secured. Just another day, right? But I still felt an odd twinge, like there was something I was missing.I shook it off and got
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Sarah’s pov.The evening started with a quiet, tense mood that I was determined to shake off. Richard had been distracted ever since his old associate, James, had shown up out of nowhere with some vague warning. I could see it in his eyes—a darkness, a worry that gnawed at him, even though he tried to hide it behind a calm face. I wanted to pull him out of it, just for a while.“Let’s play a game,” I blurted out, grinning and hoping he’d get into the spirit.He looked up, confused. “A game?”“Yes, a game. Something simple, fun.” I grabbed a stack of cards from the living room drawer. “Come on, when was the last time we played anything? Besides, I’m feeling pretty competitive tonight.”Richard’s mouth quirked into a small smile. “You’re challenging me to a game night?”I leaned in, waggling my eyebrows. “Scared?”He chuckled, finally giving in. “Alright, bring it on. What are we playing?”Half an hour later, we were knee-deep in cards and dice, with the coffee table covered in snacks.
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Richard’s pov.The morning started with that ominous letter. I held it, reading the typed words over and over, trying to make sense of the threat. It was clear, sharp—“Meet me or you’ll regret it.” Sarah’s face was pale, her fingers tight around the paper. She looked at me, fear and frustration mingling in her eyes.“Do you think…” she began, voice barely a whisper. “Do you think it’s Susan?”My jaw clenched at the name. Susan had been a thorn in our lives, vowing revenge after our fallout with her. She was ruthless, always scheming, always pulling stunts to try and get back at us. This kind of intimidation had her name all over it.“I wouldn’t put it past her,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “She did say we’d regret crossing her.”Sarah gave a small nod, her eyes still fixed on the letter. “If it is her, then maybe I should go alone. Handle it directly.”I immediately shook my head, not liking where her mind was going. “No way, Sarah. If you’re meeting anyone, I’m going with you.
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Richard’s pov.Sarah stood there, still holding the file like it was her only shield. Her shoulders were tense, her head slightly bowed. I wanted to run over and pull her into my arms, to ask her a thousand questions, but I stayed back, waiting for her to gather herself. She needed a minute, and I wasn’t about to take that from her.Finally, she looked around, her eyes scanning the area until they fell on me. Her expression shifted, a mix of surprise and relief flooding her face. She didn’t look angry that I’d followed her—if anything, she looked grateful.I stepped out from the shadows, walking over slowly. “You alright?” I asked, my voice soft.She let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yeah. Just… a bit shaken, I guess.”I glanced at the file she was clutching. “Who is he? What did he give you?”Her gaze dropped to the file, a frown creasing her forehead. “I don’t know yet,” she murmured. “But whatever it is… it can’t be good.”I put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. “We’
Last Updated : 2024-11-14
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Richard pov.The weeks that followed were like a dream, the kind of dream I never wanted to wake up from. Sarah’s recovery was nothing short of miraculous. She was her old self again—strong, radiant, and filled with the kind of joy that seemed to light up any room she entered. And our daughter? She was growing so fast, already wrapping us—and everyone else—in her tiny fingers. But the best part of it all? We were finally preparing for our wedding. Sarah wanted something small and intimate, just us and our closest family and friends. She’d always talked about having a garden wedding, surrounded by nature, with the sun setting in the background. And that’s exactly what we were going to do. The morning was a flurry of activity. Zoe was in charge of decorations, barking orders at Martins, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Martins, the flowers go on the left,” Zoe said, hands on her hips. “They look fine where they are,” Martins shot back, holding up a bouquet of
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Richard pov.Weeks passed. Life felt like a blur of hospital visits, endless updates from doctors, and quiet moments spent in Sarah’s room. I was there every day, holding her hand, speaking softly to her, willing her to wake up. Zoe and Martins tried their best to keep things light whenever they visited, cracking jokes or telling stories, but even they couldn’t hide their worry. The NICU had become another constant in my life. Our daughter was thriving despite her premature birth, a tiny fighter who seemed determined to make it through. I’d visit her every evening after sitting with Sarah, watching her tiny chest rise and fall under the glow of the incubator’s lights. She was the only glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark time. “Hey, little one,” I whispered one night, my hand resting on the incubator. “Your mom’s going to wake up soon. She has to. She wouldn’t leave us like this.” It was a quiet morning when the miracle happened. I was sitting in Sarah’s room, flipping through
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Richard pov.The morning of the trial felt heavy. I left the hospital earlier than usual, making sure Zoe would stay with Sarah. Despite the overwhelming dread, there was a part of me that felt strangely numb, as if my emotions had run dry after weeks of worry and anger. Martins met me outside the courthouse, impeccably dressed in his usual sharp suit. He clapped a hand on my shoulder, his touch grounding. “Today’s a big step forward,” he said. “Remember, this trial is about getting justice, not reopening wounds. You’re here to see Susan held accountable, not to punish yourself for her actions.”I nodded, though his words didn’t settle the unease churning in my gut. The courtroom was cold, and even though I’d prepared myself for this moment, seeing Susan seated across the room made my stomach twist. She didn’t look like someone riddled with guilt; she looked indifferent, like this was just another ordinary day. The prosecution opened with a detailed timeline of events, recou
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Richard pov.The call from the police came just after dawn, jarring me awake in the cold, uncomfortable chair next to Sarah’s hospital bed. I fumbled with my phone, heart pounding as I stepped into the hallway to answer.“We’ve located Susan,” the officer said. “She’s in custody. We’d like you to come down to the station.”My grip tightened around the phone. The relief I felt was fleeting, quickly replaced by anger. “I’ll be there,” I said, my voice low.Zoe appeared beside me as I hung up. She had been sitting with Sarah through the night, taking turns with Martins to ensure I wasn’t alone. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but her concern for Sarah mirrored my own.“Was that about Susan?” she asked.I nodded. “They’ve got her. I’m heading to the station.”“I’m coming with you,” she said firmly.“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Stay here. I need someone I trust to be with Sarah.”She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. But keep me updated.”When I arrived at the police station, Martin
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Richard pov.The cold, sterile environment of the police station did nothing to settle the unease that had been gnawing at me since Sarah’s fall. Sitting across from Isabelle in the small interrogation room only amplified it. She looked different—disheveled, almost feral—but her eyes still held that same unhinged intensity I remembered from before. Martins sat beside me, arms crossed, his body language radiating skepticism and disgust. The officer standing by the door had warned us to keep the conversation civil, but I wasn’t here to trade pleasantries. “Why, Isabelle?” My voice was steady, but my hands clenched into fists under the table. “Why did you hurt Sarah?” She tilted her head, a slow, deliberate movement that made my skin crawl. Then, she smiled—a twisted, almost childlike grin. “She wanted to take you from me,” she said, her tone eerily calm. I blinked, the sheer absurdity of her words momentarily robbing me of speech. “Take me from you? Isabelle, how many times
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Richard pov.Morning came soon. The soft hum of the machines in Sarah’s room provided a false sense of calm, but every beep reminded me she was hanging on by a thread. My chest felt heavy with every passing second, waiting for her to open her eyes, to tell me everything would be okay. Zoe and Martins stayed close, their presence quiet but steady. Zoe would occasionally bring coffee or attempt to distract me with updates on the baby, but my focus stayed on Sarah.Martins had taken over the logistics—coordinating with hospital staff, keeping everyone updated, and ensuring the security team outside wasn’t slacking. It was just after 7 a.m. when my phone buzzed in my pocket, the vibration snapping me out of my daze. I saw the caller ID and immediately stepped out of the room to take the call. “This better be good,” I snapped, my voice low but sharp. “Mr. Wright,” a familiar voice responded—it was Derek, head of my security team. “We’ve apprehended Isabelle.” The words didn’t re
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Richard povThe living room buzzed with life—laughter, the clinking of glasses, and warm chatter filled the air. Guests had arrived, carrying brightly wrapped gifts and wide smiles. It should have been a joyful day, a celebration of new life. But all I could feel was unease twisting in my gut like a knot that wouldn’t come undone. Martins nudged me as I stood by the window, eyes darting to the security guards stationed discreetly outside. “Hey, CIA,” he joked, his tone light. “You might wanna dial it down before Sarah figures out you’ve turned the baby shower into a covert operation.” I managed a thin smile. “Just being cautious.” Martins chuckled. “Yeah, cautious is your middle name. You’re so tense, you might scare the baby into coming early.” His humor didn’t land. I couldn’t shake the image of Sarah falling down those stairs from my mind—a thought that had no basis but still felt like an omen. Isabelle was out there. I didn’t know where, and that made her a threat.
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Sarah pov.I woke up feeling like I was floating on air. Memories of last night flooded back—the soft glow of fairy lights, Richard’s face as he knelt before me, the ring that sparkled on my finger. I glanced at my hand, letting the sunlight catch the diamond, and smiled. It still felt surreal. The baby stirred, a gentle nudge reminding me she was there. “Good morning, little one,” I murmured, rubbing my belly. She responded with another kick, and my heart swelled. Today was going to be beautiful, filled with friends and laughter at the baby shower. But as I climbed out of bed and pulled on a robe, a faint unease settled in the back of my mind. Something I couldn’t quite place. When I reached the kitchen, the smell of coffee and the sound of laughter greeted me. Zoe was sitting at the counter, holding a steaming mug, while Martins leaned back in his chair, mid-joke. “Ah, our glowing bride-to-be!” Martins said with exaggerated flair, waving his hands like a magician. I roll
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Richard pov.It had been a month since our trip to the nearby town. Sarah was now in her eighth month, and every day, I marveled at how gracefully she handled the ups and downs of pregnancy. But today was about more than just her strength—it was about giving her a moment to remember forever. I had planned a re-engagement surprise for her, one that would let her know how much she meant to me, now and always.“Martins, hurry up with the banner!” I called out as my best friend tried to figure out which end of the ribbon went where. He muttered something about not being a decorator, but I ignored him.The house was chaotic, but the good kind. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as I rushed from one end of the living room to the other, adjusting balloons and making sure the decorations didn’t look like a Pinterest project gone wrong. I wanted everything to be perfect for Sarah. After everything we’d been through, she deserved that—and more.“Richard, mate, you need to chill,” Ma
