All Chapters of DEAR EX-HUSBAND, YOU CAN NEVER HAVE ME BACK: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Olivia’s POVMy hands shook with rage as I stormed out of my father’s study. The conversation had gone exactly as I expected—his arrogance, his indifference, his complete and utter disregard for my choice had all been laid out on the table like a business transaction. And Ryan, that smug bastard, had sat there enjoying every second of it, watching as my father dismissed my plea like I was some spoiled child throwing a tantrum.Well, if they wanted a tantrum, I’d give them one.I marched down the hallway, my vision clouded with fury. The antique vases, the paintings, the intricate sculptures—all of it represented the life my father had built for himself. A life that I was nothing more than a pawn in.With a sharp inhale, I turned and slammed my arm into the first table I saw, sending an expensive vase crashing to the floor. The sharp shatter sent a pulse of satisfaction through me.Good.I moved to the next item—a framed painting worth more than most people’s salaries. With a single, sh

Olivia’s POVI had always thought my father’s rejection would hurt more. I had thought that it would feel like a knife driving into my chest, severing the last fragile thread between us. But as I drove home that night, all I felt was numbness.I was numb to the city lights blurring past me. Numb to the weight of my hands gripping the steering wheel. Numb to the fact that my own father had given me an ultimatum: marry Ryan or cut ties forever.When I stepped into the house, I barely acknowledged Vivian and Ethan, who exchanged worried glances as I walked past them. I just wanted to crawl into bed and disappear.But the universe wouldn’t let me drown in my misery so easily.The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Aiden’s little feet running across the hardwood floor. Before I could pretend to be asleep, my bedroom door creaked open.“Aunt Olivia?” His voice was hesitant.I sighed and turned my head toward him. “What is it, sweetheart?”He stepped closer, clutching his stuffed dinosa

Olivia’s POV“Austin?” My voice came out shaky as I called his name.His eyes softened as he looked at me. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said, stepping back slightly as if giving me space. “Olivia, are you okay? What happened?”I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.Was I okay?I didn’t even know anymore.My throat tightened, and before I could stop myself, tears welled in my eyes, spilling over in hot streams down my cheeks.Austin’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asked quickly. “Did something happen?”I turned my head away, embarrassed by my own reaction. You’re not supposed to cry in front of him, I scolded myself. You’re supposed to smile and ask him how he’s been and when he got back.But I couldn’t do any of that.Because I wasn’t okay.Because I felt like I was coming apart.The loud honk of a car behind me jolted me back to reality.I gasped, glancing in my rearview mirror. The green light was on, and impatient drivers were already tapping the

Olivia’s POVI stared at Austin in complete shock, my eyes locked on the thin lines of blood forming on his palm. The broken shards of glass sat scattered on the table, glistening under the dim diner lights, water pooling around them.“What the hell, Austin?” I grabbed his wrist, my grip tight, as if that could somehow stop the bleeding.He blinked at me, then let out a chuckle—a damn chuckle—as if nothing had happened. “Relax, Liv. It’s not that bad.”“Not that bad?” I echoed, my voice rising. “You just crushed a glass in your hand!”He shrugged, shaking off my grip. “It was already cracked.” He lifted his hand slightly, inspecting it. “Probably just needed the right amount of pressure to break. And with what I just heard…” He exhaled through his nose, jaw still tight, but his expression softened as he met my gaze. “I guess I squeezed a little too hard.”I wasn’t buying it.I saw the way his muscles were still tense, the way his fingers twitched slightly as if the anger hadn’t fully

Austin’s POVThe bar smelled like cheap whiskey and cigarette smoke, a stark contrast to the polished world Ryan West usually presented to the public. I stepped inside, scanning the room as I made my way toward the counter. The lighting was dim, the crowd a mix of businessmen looking for a late-night escape and regulars who had probably been drinking here for years.Then I saw him.Ryan West sat at a booth near the back, laughing with two other men, his fingers loosely wrapped around a glass of amber liquid. His suit jacket was draped over the booth beside him, his tie loosened just enough to suggest he was letting loose—but not too much. Even here, even in a rundown bar like this, he was still careful with his image.I walked to the bar and ordered a whiskey, keeping my movements casual, my eyes fixed on him just enough to study him without drawing too much attention.Ryan took a sip of his drink, nodding along as his friend whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, it must ha