All Chapters of RISING EX WIFE : Love Me Again Mrs Graves: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Chapter 92Josh’s Point of ViewThe silence in my office was heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of Eva moving around as she grabbed the first aid kit from the shelf. My face stung, the bruise on my cheekbone throbbing where Max had landed his punch. But the pain didn’t matter. Not when Eva was standing here, her presence like a soothing balm on my frayed nerves.“Sit,” she commanded, her voice firm but gentle. She pulled a chair closer to me, her eyes scanning my face for injuries.I obeyed, leaning back as she opened the kit and pulled out some antiseptic. Her touch was careful, deliberate, as she dabbed a cotton ball against the cut near my eyebrow.“You didn’t have to step in like that,” I said, my voice low.Her hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming. “Yes, I did. Max had no right to treat you or anyone like that.”My jaw tightened at the mention of his name. “He doesn’t deserve you, Eva. Not now, not ever.”She sighed, her expression softening as she focused o

Chapter 94 Sara’s Point of ViewThe first sound that registered was the shattering of glass. A bottle, hurled by one of the crowd, smashed against the pavement near my feet, sending shards flying. My pulse raced as fear clawed at me, and I instinctively flinched, shielding my face with trembling hands. The jeers and insults continued, a relentless tide of rage that refused to ebb.“Traitors! Murderers!”“You thought you could get away with it?”The words stung like a thousand needles, each one embedding itself deeper into my skin. My mother’s grip on my arm was iron-like, her nails digging in as she tried to keep me upright.“Keep walking,” she hissed through gritted teeth, her voice unsteady. “Don’t give them the satisfaction.”But how could I? The world had turned against us. Every face in the crowd was twisted with contempt, their eyes gleaming with righteous fury. I felt naked under their gaze, exposed and vulnerable in a way I never had been before.Another projectile a crushed

Chapter 96Sara’s Point of ViewThe silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner. My mother paced the floor with the ferocity of a caged lioness, her heels clicking against the hardwood with each sharp step. Her face, usually a mask of icy composure, was twisted in fury, her eyes blazing with unrestrained anger.“I have never,” she hissed, pausing mid-step to glare at the space as if her words could strike down an unseen foe, “been humiliated like that in my entire life.”She spun around, facing me. “Do you know what it feels like, Sara? To be reduced to nothing in front of the entire world? To have everything you’ve worked for trampled on because of someone else’s incompetence?”Her voice rose with each word, cutting through the air like a whip. I flinched but kept my gaze steady, though my heart pounded in my chest.“It’s not my fault,” I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper.“Not your fault?” she repeated, her tone dripping with disbeli

Chapter 98Max’s Point of ViewThe flash of cameras hit my eyes the moment I stepped out of my car. The usual buzz of morning traffic was drowned out by the chaotic frenzy of reporters swarming outside the company gates. A sea of microphones and questioning voices surged toward me, their questions sharp and relentless.“Mr. Graves, is it true you and Sara conspired to kill your grandfather?” one voice shouted, cutting through the noise.“Do you have any comments on the evidence emerging that implicates you in the murder?” another chimed in.My jaw clenched, my hand tightening on the strap of my briefcase as I fought to keep my expression neutral. The accusations were absurd, yet the weight of their words struck something deep within me—a mix of anger, disbelief, and the faintest twinge of fear.“Mr. Graves! Is the recent media rise linked to you framing eva as the culprit for your grandfather death?” a third voice demanded, forcing me to pause mid-step.I turned sharply, my glare enou

Chapter 100Maximilian’s Point of ViewThe air in the boardroom felt thick and heavy, pressing down on me like an invisible weight. The tension was almost unbearable, crackling in the silence like a storm waiting to break. I sat at the head of the long oak table, my fingers gripping the armrests of the chair tightly, trying to steady myself. Around the table, familiar faces stared back at me, their expressions a mix of doubt and suspicion. These were people I had worked with for years, individuals who once respected my decisions, trusted my leadership. Now, their eyes held something else judgment.I took a deep breath, but it did little to ease the discomfort in my chest. The room seemed colder than usual, the sharp scent of polished wood mingling with the faint aroma of coffee cups left untouched on the table. The faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound breaking the silence, and even that felt intrusive.“Mr. Graves,” one of the senior board members, Harold Whitman, bega