All Chapters of It Should Have Been Like This: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

ELEVEN YEARS AGOI walked into the living room, and my mother's gaze immediately shifted from her laptop to me. Her lips curved downward into a deep frown, and her eyes narrowed with a palpable sense of displeasure upon seeing me. This had been her typical reaction to my presence for weeks, ever since I had proposed to Lavender. Mother had always been adamantly against my decision to reclaim what my maternal great-grandmother, her own grandmother, had lost to the greedy Wester D. McCabe, but she had never actively tried to stop me. That is, until I had introduced her to the granddaughter of the very man who had taken everything from her family.My mother, just like the rest of her family, firmly believed that it was a waste of time to pursue what Granny Lily had cherished the most. My great-grandmother had been the favored one among our relatives—old, yet remarkably agile, and undoubtedly the kindest person I had ever known, even more so than my own mother.Granny Lily had originally

I awoke to a gentle tap on my back. I groaned and whimpered, instinctively shrugging the hand off me. Undeterred, the person continued their ministrations, now stroking my hair soothingly. I huffed out a breath of pure annoyance, squeezing my pillow under my head in a tighter embrace and slightly shifting away from the persistent source of disturbance. My mind quickly began to stir, and I mentally cussed at whoever had dared to disturb my much-needed slumber.Wait, what had I been dreaming about?I snapped my eyes open, only to be greeted by a nasty, pounding headache. My mind instantly told me that the dream had been important, something I shouldn't have forgotten, but instead of helping me recapture the missing memory, the searing pain that blossomed within my skull effectively blocked out any lingering recollections."Fuck," I hissed under my breath, squinting my now twitching and stinging eyes. It suddenly felt as if an elephant had taken up residence on my head, the responsive an

Rominic's ViewpointI ran a weary hand through my hair, a heavy sigh escaping my lips as I tried to focus on Stacy's frantic words. It was difficult to concentrate, my mind consumed by thoughts of my wife, who had locked herself away in her room and refused to come out.It had been five days since the article detailing her previous lifestyle had been uploaded to the media. The article did not paint her in a negative light; rather, it portrayed her as a saint, emphasizing the struggles and pain she had endured in order to care for our children. It also revealed the truth behind her purported "fake death." If anything, the article had succeeded in casting me as the cruel, heartless bastard I truly was. It seemed aimed at utterly destroying my reputation, tearing down the image I had worked so hard to cultivate.With such a damning article now public, my business and family were under critical attack. The article did not hide the awareness of my family and friends but lied about them sta

I gnawed on my thumb anxiously, my gaze glued to the screen of my phone as I scrolled through the comments on a shared post concerning me. The comments were a mixed bag, most of the negative ones condemning me for going back to Rominic, who had, in their eyes, ruined my life. Many fiercely insulted me for my supposed immorality, claiming there was always a way out without resorting to using my body.I pulled my thumb from my mouth and glared at the phone. "What do they know? It's not like they've been in my situation," I muttered, then returned my thumb to its comforting haven between my teeth. They had no idea what I'd been through, so who were they to judge? Some people even commented on my foolishness for believing someone out of my league could love me, shaming me for being a gold digger and getting what I deserved.My anxiety ratcheted up a notch. I was never after Rominic's money, maybe his fame, but not his wealth. I'm not a gold digger. I never was, and I never will be. 'Is th

Eyes filled with resentment and anger stared straight at the TV, the screen a stark contrast to the storm brewing within. The sound of teeth grinding echoed in the background, a rhythmic clicking that punctuated the heavy silence of the living room. The TV was muted, the only sounds were the woman's ragged breaths and the insistent grinding of her teeth.The blue-eyed woman, her face contorted in a mask of fury, bit into her fingernails, drawing blood. Her other hand, clenched into a fist, dug into her thigh, her fingers leaving white marks on the soft leather of the sofa. Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor, a metronome marking the passage of time, each beat a reminder of her failure. She couldn't believe it. Her carefully laid out plan, her perfect plan, destroyed by a single, insignificant boy.It hadn't taken much to concoct the new plan, but gathering the information, the pieces she needed to put it into motion, had been a challenge. She had hoped it would yield a considerat