Todos los capítulos de Return Of The Killer Ex-Wife: Capítulo 71 - Capítulo 80

MIA’S POVFinally, I got away from Cole. It had been such a crazy rollercoaster of emotions with him. He said he was going to take me out somewhere the next day if I didn’t feel alright by then, but one thing was sure: I was never going to heal from the pain of losing my baby before I could even meet her. That kind of pain isn’t something a simple outing can fix.I climbed the stairs, my heart dropping with each step, my legs slightly weak and trembling. The weight of grief pressed down on me, making each movement feel like trudging through thick, wet cement. I hadn’t even had dinner, and my stomach was growling, but the gnawing hunger was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. All I wanted was some tranquility, a moment of peace to retreat into bed, hoping that sleep might provide some temporary relief from the relentless torment of my thoughts.As I reached the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched before me like an endless tunnel, dimly lit by the soft, flickering glow of th

LYDIA’S POV “Where have you been?” Emma asked as soon as she met me in the corridor. Her voice was sharp, cutting through the thick silence that had settled in the hallway. “Nowhere, I was just spending time with a friend,” I lied quickly, my voice barely steady. The woman wouldn’t cease to bug me as though I was her child, her constant prying like a relentless storm battering my defenses. Emma looked at me silently, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. She was wrapped in her purple silk night robe, the fabric clinging to her slender frame and shimmering under the dim corridor lights, casting a soft, mysterious glow around her. The color suited her, enhancing the ethereal quality of her presence, but it also made her seem more formidable, like a queen surveying her kingdom. “So he is in the room alone, right?” I quickly chipped in, not wanting her to digress. I could feel the weight of her gaze, each second of silence stretching into an eternity. “Yes, he’s alone in the room. I was

MIA’S POV“This is so beautiful,” I said, my legs sinking into the sands, the grains warm and fine against my skin. My eyes were still gawking at the beauty before us. It was an ethereal view, one that seemed almost otherworldly in its perfection.“Yeah, it sure is,” Cole said, standing beside me. His presence was a comforting constant in the serene surroundings.There was a quiet and peaceful ambience that the place brought, a gentle breeze that caressed our skin, carrying with it the fresh, salty scent of the ocean. The air was cool and crisp, filling our lungs with every breath. We sat on the bonnet of Cole’s car, the metal warm beneath us as we enjoyed the view. Despite the peace, my mind was anything but calm. Christine was the only thing I could think about, her memory piercing through the tranquillity like a dagger.“Do you miss someone?” Cole asked suddenly, his voice breaking through my thoughts like a soft yet insistent nudge.I turned to him abruptly, my eyes wide with shoc

MIA’S POV “What do you mean?” I asked, my heart pounding even harder, the curiosity and concern mixing into a potent cocktail of emotions. Cole didn’t speak immediately. He remained reclined, his posture relaxed yet tense, as if a heavy weight pressed down on him. He avoided eye contact, staring off into the distance where the waves met the horizon. The rhythmic sound of the ocean filled the silence between us, each crash of the waves echoing the turmoil within him. His chest rose and fell with deep, deliberate breaths, the kind taken when one is bracing themselves to unearth long-buried pain. “She left me when I was just a child,” he began, his voice low and thick with emotion. The words seemed to struggle their way out of his throat, each one laced with a bitterness that hinted at years of repressed sorrow. “The only thing I remember about her is her eyes.” He paused, and I could see his throat working as he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Each day passes, and I forget

MIA’S POVI swallowed hard, the lump in my throat painful as I forced out the words that tore at my soul. “My daughter… my daughter Christine is dead,” I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. It felt like my heart was being ripped open all over again, the raw wound of loss exposed to the air. The car’s interior felt cold, a chill that seemed to seep into my very bones as the gravity of my words settled in the space between us.Olivia’s reaction was immediate and visceral. Her eyes widened, her face paling as she processed what I had just said. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out, as if the weight of my revelation had stolen her words. The silence that followed was thick and heavy, broken only by the quiet hum of the engine and my own shaky breaths. “My daughter is dead,” I repeated, the repetition somehow making it more real, more final. Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling over and trailing down my cheeks to land on the car’s floor like tiny, crystalline drops o