บททั้งหมดของ Divorced by my Billionaire Ex, Now He Wants Me Back! : บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

131Dane.I was halfway through my second espresso when Stella finally arrived, her smile a little too bright, her eyes shadowed. She brushed rain from her jacket, shook out her hair, and slid into the booth across from me. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Traffic was murder.”I just shook my head, waving her apology away. “You’re fine. I ordered your usual.” The cup was already cooling in front of her, steam barely rising. “Rough morning?”She reached for the mug, wrapping both hands around it. “Just busy.” Her gaze flicked over my shoulder, toward the street. “How’s the new project going?”I told her about the renovation delays, about arguing with a supplier over tile samples. She laughed in the right places, even made a joke about my obsession with Scandinavian design. But I noticed her hands trembling slightly as she brought the cup to her lips. When she set it down, her fingers lingered, turning the handle this way and that. Small, anxious motions. I knew that kind of nervous energy.

133Alex.The sound of rain tapping the window was the first thing I noticed this morning, but the sense of unease had been building for days. I’d barely slept the night before, my mind running every possible scenario, replaying every moment from the past week—the strange cars, the feeling of being watched, Stella’s worried eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking, the twins’ laughter sounding thinner and more fragile than usual.I sat at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee cooling beside my phone, as I scrolled through the latest security reports. The team I’d hired was thorough, sending me timestamped images and footage every few hours. Still, the same SUV kept showing up on their logs. Always parked just out of view, always moving on before anyone could approach. Yesterday, it had been spotted circling the school. Twice. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon.That was the moment my patience ran out.Stella came in, her hair still damp from the shower, her face drawn and pale. She

135Alex.I was still standing at the threshold when the door closed behind the man. My heart pounded in my throat. I couldn’t believe what I’d just seen. The twins—Eli and Emma—were here, safe. I wanted to grab them both and never let them go, but the ache of suspicion burned in my gut, making it hard to breathe.I knelt down, arms open, and the kids barreled into me. Their faces were damp with tears, cheeks blotchy, and the smell of their hair hit me with a wave of relief so sharp I almost cried myself. I crushed them both to my chest, breathing them in, brushing Emma’s hair back from her face, feeling Eli’s little hands grip my shirt.Stella hovered beside me, shaking but determined. She checked the kids, running her hands over their arms and legs, searching for injuries, for any sign of something she couldn’t undo. Anna and Josh closed in, and for a few minutes, all any of us could do was hold them. I pressed my lips to Emma’s head, murmuring that it was okay, that she was safe no

137Anna.It started with the sound of Stella’s voice, low and raw from the hallway. I’d come over early, the sun just beginning to touch the rooftops, to check on the twins and bring Stella a fresh loaf of bread. The house had a taut, electric hush—nothing like the chaos of laughter and footsteps I’d grown to love here. I set the bread on the kitchen counter and listened, only half-ashamed at how my heart thudded.Stella was talking to Alex, her words barely above a whisper. “I’m scared to let them out of my sight, Alex. I’m not sleeping. Every sound at night—I think it’s them coming for the twins.” There was a silence, thick with unshed tears. Alex’s voice was firm, but gentle. “We’ll protect them. You’re not alone. I promise.”I waited until their voices faded before stepping into the kitchen, pretending I hadn’t heard. Stella must have seen the worry in my eyes anyway. She smiled, a tired flicker of her old self. “Morning, Anna,” she said, trying for brightness. “You spoil us.” Sh

139Alex.I could measure my life these days by the flicker of security feeds and the soft whirring of the coffee maker after midnight. The study was never quiet enough, at least not with the fear circling outside the walls. The house was bigger than her apartment, all brick and glass, a high fence, enough bedrooms for the twins to have their own. I’d picked it for safety, but no house could keep out the anxiety that woke me every night.I was up late again, elbows buried in reports. Every time I blinked, the numbers blurred: timestamps, motion alerts, coded security logs. I’d memorized the angles from every camera: the porch, the drive, the side yard with the sagging lilac bushes. If anything shifted, I would know.But someone else was learning our rhythms too.The first time, I’d chalked it up to coincidence. The garden gate left swinging, just a lazy breeze, maybe a kid chasing a ball. The second time, the camera over the porch had glitched for exactly ten minutes—just long enough