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Lahat ng Kabanata ng His Ex Mistress, His Enemy: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

208 Kabanata

She Gets the Ring. I Got the Night.

Sometimes, love doesn’t end with an explosion. Sometimes, it just… dies.Quietly. Slowly. Without anyone noticing. And by the time you do, you’re already too far gone to turn back.His scent still lingered on the sheets of that expensive hotel bed. Rain clung to the glass windows, and city lights spilled over his bare chest. His breath, warm against the back of my neck.He didn’t say much.Zane Romano never had to.His words were rare, heavy. That kind of low, gruff voice that reminded you of an old engine that couldn’t be tamed. Even in silence, my body knew exactly what he wanted. His touch always knew where my lines were... and how to cross them.“Turn around,” he said that night.And I did.Because I was stupid. Because I loved him.His hand brushed my cheek. Those eyes.That deep, dark blue like they held secrets I’d never be ready to hear.He looked at me like I was his. Not a secret he kept hidden from the world.“If I weren’t Zane Romano,” he whispered, “would you still be her

Red Wine & Ghosts of You

Four Years LaterI’d been in New York for exactly theree week and so far:I hadn’t even opened my second suitcase.I’d consumed more espresso than hours of sleep.I’d made one client cry, one opposing attorney puke, and got a court assistant to save my number.All in all, a promising start.I leaned back into my brand new black leather chair, which cost more than two months’ rent in Miami, rubbing my temples with one hand. My blazer sleeves were rolled to the elbows, and my desk was cluttered with paperwork, two empty coffee cups, and a note from my mother that read:“Have you met any rich, respectable men yet?”Funny. I almost did. Until he got engaged and knocked someone else up.“So… I’m really free now, right?” the voice in front of me snapped me out of the spiral I was slipping into.I looked up. Catherine Rowe. Blonde hair in a sleek bun, flawless makeup, and a smile like someone just unlocked the gates to her personal prison.“Yes,” I said, closing the last of the files. “Legal

The Ex Mistress and The Wife

Mornings in New York are never truly quiet. Even from the twenty-seventh floor, I could still hear the taxis honking like exes who couldn’t take a hint.And this morning, the coffee in my hand tasted bitter. Not because the hotel barista downstairs had an inflated sense of confidence. But because my mind had already drifted to a name that should’ve been buried long ago.Zane Romano. The Armani-clad bastard who once made me believe that a hotel room hug could mean something more than just a blanket for lies.I stared at my screen. It was filled with random divorce documents I hadn’t even skimmed last night. To be honest, I was more tempted to open a makeup promo email than read a divorce request from the wife of a man who shattered my heart and still managed to look like a magazine spread in every paparazzi shot.Asshole.Sofia walked in fifteen minutes before her start time, as always. She carried her tablet, two folders, and that blank expression that made me suspect she secretly kep

The Nightmare

Normal women spend their Friday nights in little black dresses, torturous heels, and overpriced champagne.Me? I was on the couch in an oversized hoodie, stuffed with takeout, a lavender sheet mask on my face, watching a serial killer docuseries while FaceTiming with a three-and-a-half-year-old who had the energy of five iced espressos.Honestly, not that different.“And then I ate the pink marshmallow chocolate, and Daddy said I could only take three, so I took four,” his tiny voice crackled through the speaker.I laughed. “Ash, you know that’s not a very diplomatic solution, right?”“What’s diplo—what, Mami?”“It means you’re like a tiny politician who knows how to bend the rules.”“I’m not a politician!” he shouted. “I’m a dinosaur kid!”“Right. My bad. I stand corrected.”His face filled the screen. Chubby cheeks, messy jet-black hair, familiar blue eyes, and that bottom lip pout he gave when he didn’t get his way.Alessio. Ash.Almost four. As talkative as me, unfortunately. But

God Complex in a Tux

Applause echoed through the ballroom, loud and hollow. Then, just like that, everything went back to normal.Winona was still staring at me with an expression that could make an angel nauseous. But before she could say anything, a middle-aged woman in a red gown swooped in, dragging her away with some overly dramatic comment about “dinner in the Hamptons next week.”And me...I stood there. Alone. Breathing shallow. Heart pounding like it had just run a marathon.Feeling things that should've died years ago but apparently just took a nap and woke up pissed.I placed my champagne flute on the nearest tray and tried to make my way toward the exit. But life, as usual, refused to offer me a straight line."Dianna..." Mr. Hawthorne’s voice called out near the marble staircase. "Come here. I want to introduce you to some important people from the energy sector. They’re looking for new legal representation. Big opportunity."Big opportunity. Goddamn it. "Big opportunity" always sounded like

Sleeping with Exhibit A

This afternoon, my apartment already smelled like rosemary and olive oil. Not because I was trying to live a healthy life. Cooking was just the only form of therapy that didn’t max out my credit card or involve handsome ghosts from my past.I sat at the tiny dining table in the kitchen, spoon in hand, a plate full of improvised aglio e olio in front of me, across from Winona, who looked, as usual, like someone who would laugh at a funeral if given the chance.“So,” she said, taking a dramatic bite of her salad, “how does it feel to sleep with your old sin?”I glanced at her over my plate. “I could stab this fork into your throat without smudging my makeup. Want me to try?”She laughed. Laughed. As if my life wasn’t currently a pile of wreckage I’d just walked out of a few hours ago.“Dianna Rosa,” she said, leaning back in her chair, “you might be the most ruthless lawyer in your building, but as a human being? You’re so weak when it comes to that dangerous ex of yours.”“I didn’t sle

Breakfast with Ash, War with His Papa

My kitchen smelled like melted butter and paranoia.I was flipping French toast on the pan when the voice of the one kid I loved most, and who also drove me completely insane, broke through the quiet from the tablet propped up at the edge of the table.Round cheeks, bright blue eyes, bedhead in full glory. Alessio. Or as he now insisted everyone call him: Ash the Dinosaur."I already packed all my toys, Mommy! Daddy said I brought too many, but I told him they’re all important. Triceratops has to come too. He gets trauma if he’s left behind."I nodded, scooping berries onto a plate. "Of course. I’m sure your triceratops has emotional needs that can’t be delayed.""And the farting robot! Don’t forget that one!""How could I? Who am I to separate a boy from his farting robot?"Ash laughed, then looked down for a second. "I’m happy we get to live together again. With you. And the new house. And the swimming pool. Daddy said it looks like Iron Man’s house."I set the plate down on the ta

I Should've Been a Florist

I ignored Zane’s muttering. He could sit at the end of the table or at the gates of hell, the result was the same: he was still the man I left without saying goodbye.“Alright,” I said, opening the folder. “Before we begin, let’s remember this is a mediation, not a Broadway show. So I’d really appreciate it if everyone could keep—”“I want the Aspen property,” Amelia cut in, sharp and straight to the point.I turned to her slowly. “Which one?”“The one on the mountain. The one with the jacuzzi. And the sauna.”Zane leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow. “You’re allergic to altitude, Amelia. Last time we went, you threw up the whole way there and mistook a reindeer for a dog.”“That was before I found out you were sleeping with half women’s in the Amalfi Coast,” she snapped back, her voice jumping an octave like an opera singer on her last breath.Vivienne sipped her tea calmly, like she had front-row seats to a Shakespeare tragedy.I inhaled deeply. “Okay. We’ll discuss propert

Heir of Oil. Keeper of Secrets. Queen of Sanity.

The late afternoon sun was already low by the time I pulled up to the massive black gate that looked straight out of an Italian mafia movie.Not because I was being dramatic. But because, well… it actually was dramatic.This wasn’t a house. This was a fortress. Black iron fences, hidden security cameras in every corner, and an entry system that required a pin and facial recognition. Honestly, if I could throw in a retina scan and a lie detector, I would.Sadly, this wasn’t paranoia. This was just common sense after sleeping with a man who could buy a small town just because he was bored. You don’t get to live in peace after hiding a child from the heir of an oil empire.The gate opened automatically as my car rolled forward. The front yard was wide but not flashy. Neatly trimmed plants. A driveway paved with natural stone. The exterior was a soft, warm off-white with huge windows shaded by linen curtains.I paused for a second at the front door. Took a breath. Let out a tiny smile."I

Dinosaur’s kid

7 a.m.The house was still quiet. Just the sound of little birds chirping outside the window and the soft hiss of the espresso machine.I stood in the kitchen wearing an oversized hoodie, hair still somewhere between “bedhead” and “rebellion,” holding a black mug that read “LAWYERED” in chipped nail polish.This early in the morning, I could almost pretend I was a normal human being. Almost.Ash was still asleep upstairs, his tiny body buried under his dinosaur blanket, breathing steady, limbs sprawled like he owned an entire kingdom.Erick? Still dead to the world in the guest room, courtesy of jetlag and too much wine last night.I cracked the kitchen window open, letting in the morning breeze and the smell of fresh coffee.And then… my phone rang. FaceTime.Caller ID: Mamá 💅👑I stared at the screen and exhaled. “You know I can’t win this, right?” I muttered, answering the call.Her face filled the screen instantly. Sharp brows, perfectly round cheeks, and the marble kitchen in Bo

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