All Chapters of Dear Ex Wife, Please take me back: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

AthenaNoah stood in the living room, his hair a mess. He was wearing a T-shirt and dark jeans, which was rare to see since it seemed like the Kings had a thing for suits. Even Gia in her old age wore suits. I was always the odd one out in my jeans and Plain tops. “Why do you let him do this? You know Aunt Ari wouldn't let this go on if you just told her?” He takes a step closer. I almost laugh at that.Alex would kill me and burry me six feet under if I ever tried to do that.That's a known fact. But… deep down in my heart, I feel like this secret between us is the only thing that keeps me going. A sick part of me likes that we have something we share that no one else knows. “I'm not bothered by it.” I lie. Noah watches me. For a second I feel like he's about to argue but I was just humiliated a few seconds ago and had he walked in a few minutes earlier, he would have watched the scene like a damn movie in 3D. I exhale, forcing my emotions down. “Have you eaten?” I ask, changin

AthenaThe sharp crack of my palm against his cheek rings through the room. My chest heaves with fury, and my hands tremble at my sides. The audacity. The sheer, infuriating arrogance of him.My head is still tipsy but thanks to his insult. My mind is no longer foggy.Alex doesn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curl into a smirk, his green eyes darkening with something dangerous. Something possessive.But I'm mad as hell and he knows it. “You will not insult me!” I spit. Anger radiating off me In waves. But it's like this man is a wall because he doesn’t seem bothered. He takes one step back, placing his hands in his pocket before finding my gaze again. “You will not see him again.” His voice is low, but I heard him just fine. I scoff, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “I’m not your wife, Alex. We’re getting divorced. I can do whatever the hell I want. Do you suffer from memory loss?”His smirk deepens, amusement flashing in his gaze as he takes a slow, deliberate step toward me.

Athena“Mr. King, what—” Mr. Dalton starts, but Alexander’s cold voice cuts through. “I suggest you think carefully before uttering another word, Dalton.”A heavy silence falls. Melanie’s father pales “Mr. King? Do you know this cri- young lady?”Alexander doesn’t even spare him a glance. His focus is solely on me, his eyes locking onto mine like he can read everything I’m thinking. I try to figure out what he's thinking but I come up empty. He gives nothing away.“Get up.” His voice is commanding. Making all the hairs on my body rise. I remain frozen, my body is unwilling to obey.Mr. Dalton clears his throat. “Mr. King, this is a serious matter—”Alexander’s gaze finally shifts to him, sharp as a blade. “Serious? You mean this pathetic attempt at framing my-”My heart pounds even harder. Hope is starting to grow like a balloon.“Framing an innocent lady?” And it pops.Painfully so.Melanie’s sobs long ended. Her face is horrified. I bet she didn't see this coming. Neither did

AthenaThe plan was supposed to be simple revenge.But now that he's here, so close to me, I'm starting to regret what I did.I scramble to sit up, the fog of sleep clinging to me as I stammer, "I—I’m sorry. I was just—"I don’t get to finish. His hand snakes around my wrist as I try to move away, and in one swift motion, I stumble forward—right into his chest as he falls with his back on his bed and me on top of him.Damn it!He’s warm. Solid. His arm tightens around me like a steel band.“Let me go,” I mutter, but my voice cracks, betraying the warring emotions raging inside me.He doesn’t.Instead, he smirks—a broken, bitter curve of his lips. “Being in a man’s bed isn’t exactly good manners, is it?”I clench my jaw, my pride flaring. “It’s not just any man,” I fire back. “It’s my husband’s.”His laugh is deep, low, mocking, and it cuts through me.“Husband,” he repeats, rolling the word off his tongue like it’s a joke.The sound of it—the venom in his voice—stings more than I want

Athena"That's how forgettable you are." The words echo in my mind, slicing through the silence of my car. Over and over, they replay, like a cruel melody stuck on a loop, each repetition heavier than the last. I grip the steering wheel tighter, knuckles turning white, but it does nothing to steady the trembling in my hands. It’s been thirty minutes — thirty long, suffocating minutes — and I’m still here, parked in the same spot, unable to step out of my car. I barely slept a wink last night. I thought tears would help but they just made it even worse because I woke up with a pounding head.As I sit here, my chest feels too small for the ache inside it, like I’m trying to swallow a scream that refuses to come out. The air feels too thick, the car too quiet — the only sound is my uneven breathing, breaking the silence in shaky gasps. It's at this point when I miss my mother. I wish she was still alive so I could tell her everything while she hugged all the pain away. But even