Lahat ng Kabanata ng Ex Husband, Prepare To Burn : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

Elara's POV The streetlight above me flickered, throwing broken shadows across the driveway as I stood there, gripping the divorce papers like they were the only thing keeping me from falling apart. My hands were shaking so badly the pages rustled in the night air. I don’t even remember the drive home. Just headlights and rain on the windshield and my reflection staring back at me — a woman who’d lost everything in one evening. I swallowed the lump in my throat and unlocked the front door. My heels clicked faintly on the marble floor, echoing through the too-quiet house. Karen, our housekeeper, appeared in the hallway, towel in hand, eyes wide. “Ma’am… you’re home early.” Her voice trembled. The towel twisted in her wrinkled fingers like she was trying to strangle the truth before it escaped. “Why do you look surprised?” I asked, my voice hoarse from crying in the car for hours. It sounded foreign, brittle. “I just didn’t expect you,” she stammered, glancing toward the

Elara's POV “What are you thinking about, Mum?” Noah’s small voice pulled me from my thoughts.“Nothing much, dear,” I said softly, smiling at him. “I was just remembering the day I gave birth to my lovely triplets. I love you, my children.”“Mum,” Emily said, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “we know you’re going back to California, so we made some rules for you.”“Rules?” I raised a brow, laughing lightly as she handed me a folded piece of paper.“Yes,” Claire chimed in proudly. “These are the three golden rules — one from each of us. And don’t break any of them!”I smiled as I unfolded the paper. Their tiny handwriting made my heart swell.“The first rule,” I began, “says that I shouldn’t look at any other babies when I go to California.”They all giggled.“The second rule says… never give up on my job and keep working hard, as always.”Then I paused. My breath caught as I read the last line.“Why did you stop, Mum?” Noah urged.I swallowed hard and forced the words out. “The thi

Elara’s POV I forced my way through the crowd, pushing past flashing cameras and trembling guests until I reached the exit. My chest was tight, my breath quick. What happened tonight was enough to scare the hell out of Camila. And I didn’t even have to try too hard. Stay alive, bitch, don't die yet - I thought with a smirk. The worst is yet to come. Before I could reach the door, I collided with someone — hard chest, warm body — and fell flat on the marble floor. My bag slid a few feet away. I snatched it up quickly, ready to bolt, when a hand appeared in front of me. “Here,” the man said. I looked up. Sharp suit. Neat undercut. Cool eyes. And damn — he was beautiful. “I’m Liam,” he said, his voice smooth as sin, still holding my hand like it belonged to him. For a second, I forgot why I was even running. My pulse skipped, but I quickly pulled my hand back. Without a word, I turned and walked away. He frowned, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t arrogance — just survival

Elara’s POV The drive to the villa took longer than expected—thirty minutes of silence, broken only by the steady hum of the car engine and my racing thoughts. My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale, heart still beating from the chaos of the gala. The night had started with confidence and ended with chaos. When my car finally pulled up in front of the private villa Mr. Sullivan had bought for me a week before my arrival in California, I let out a deep, shaky breath. The air around the estate was calm—too calm, as if the world itself had paused to watch me unravel. I opened the car door, ready to step out, when something small and black slipped to the ground. A card. I frowned, bent down, and picked it up. The name gleamed under the dim porch light—Liam Grant, written in bold golden letters, the kind of luxury design you’d expect from someone who lived to impress. “What the hell—how did this get here?” I whispered. Then realization struck. He must’ve slipped

Ian's POV Curtains covered every corner of my office window, turning the room dim even though the morning sun kept forcing its way in. Warm light slid across the floor like it was trying to reach me—but I stood frozen, coffee cup in hand, unable to take another sip. I’d just finished another exhausting meeting with the board. Another hour of damage control. Another lecture about Camila’s scandal. I ran a hand across my jaw as their words repeated in my head. “We need to minimize the damage before things get out of hand.” “This video could sink the brand this season and also continue to affect market sales in the future.” “Your relationship with Ms. Vale is now a liability. It's a huge threat to the fashion industry. Don't you see what's coming?”And yes, some part of me told me they weren’t wrong about that but... The video had turned Camila into a public monster overnight. And not even my money can cover it up. My phone chimed. Again. I pulled it out, already annoyed—and