All Chapters of The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back): Chapter 311 - Chapter 320

355 Chapters

My Daughter's Birthday

Open Marriage: His Regret, My Revenge My husband brought his mistress home, and he told me to take care of her. The man I had been married to for seven years didn’t just cheat on me. When our daughter was about to celebrate her birthday, he broke his promise to our daughter, swore he’d be back for her birthday, but never showed. He was with his mistress, and the whole world knew about it. Countless reporters captured me in a state of shock and tears, looking utterly disheveled under the flashing cameras. I didn’t know how to explain it to my daughter. I could only pretend everything was fine, and confront him in private, asking why. Then he had the nerve to say it was all my fault. He said I was no longer focused on him only. He said I didn’t understand how much pressure he was under at work. He asked why I couldn’t be like other wives and simply not care about such small things. To him, marrying me was charity. He never took a single word I said seriously— not even when I told hi

My Public Shame

Mary's POV:I set down the wine and grabbed my coat. I was going to his office. Not to scream or to make any scene. I just wanted—I don't know what I wanted. An explanation? An apology? Some crumpled version of the man I had married, still buried somewhere beneath the expense accounts and the late nights?I opened the front door.The light hit me first. A wall of it. Flashes so bright and so sudden that I stumbled backward, my hand flying up to shield my eyes. Then the voices came—a dozen of them, two dozen, all talking at once, all of them shouting my name like they had known me for years."Mary! Mary, over here!""Is it true your husband has been seeing Vesper Holloway?""How long have you known?""Any comment on the photos?"I couldn't breathe. My back hit the doorframe, and I pushed myself inside, slamming the door so hard that the framed photo of Elowen's first steps rattled off the wall and fell face-down on the carpet. I stood there in the dark foyer, my heart slamming against

My Husband’s Affair Becomes Public

Mary's POV:No. That's another lie. I had noticed. I had noticed every single cold shoulder, every forgotten anniversary, every time he came home smelling like someone else's perfume and told me I was imagining things. I had noticed, and I had said nothing, because saying something meant admitting that the marriage was already dead, and I wasn't ready to be a widow while still wearing my ring.A floorboard creaked behind me.I turned. Elowen stood in the hallway, her tiara still on, her eyes red and swollen in a way that told me she hadn't just woken up. She had been listening. Maybe for a long time."Mommy," she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and something heavier. "Where's Daddy? The people outside are being loud."I opened my mouth to lie. To smooth it over. To say no, baby, everything is fine, Daddy loves you, Daddy is just busy. But the words wouldn't come. They stuck in my throat like fish bones. Because the truth was sitting right there on my phone screen—his arm around

The Promise Breaker

MARY'S POV:The cake was still dripping off Alistair's shirt when he finally spoke again.Not to Elowen. Not to apologize or get down on his knees and beg forgiveness from the tiny, sobbing girl who had just decorated him in buttercream and sprinkles. No, that would have required a type of self-awareness that Alistair had never possessed, not in all the years I had known him.Instead, he turned to me."Is this how you teach her?"His voice was cold and measured. The same tone he used when a subordinate at work made a mistake—not angry, exactly, but deeply, profoundly disappointed. As if I had done something wrong. As if I had driven our six-year-old daughter to throw a birthday cake at her own father's chest.I opened my mouth to respond, but he wasn't finished."Don't speak to your father like this," he snapped, and this time his voice was aimed at Elowen, sharp and harsh. "You're six years old. You don't talk to me that way. Ever."Elowen froze.I watched it happen—the way her small

Trust, Broken Twice

MARY'S POV:He frowned. That familiar, dismissive frown that I had grown to hate more than almost anything else about him. Not the frown itself, but what it represented: the complete and utter refusal to take anything I said seriously."What are you talking about?" he asked.I almost laughed. Almost. The sound was right there in my throat, bubbling up like something bitter and acidic. Seven years of marriage, and he could stand there with cake still drying on his collar and ask me what are you talking about as if I had just accused him of leaving the toilet seat up.I pulled out my phone. Opened the video and pressed play.His voice filled the foyer—clear, sharp, unmistakably his. "We're the ones truly in love. She didn't interfere in anything. None of this is her fault."I watched his face as he watched himself. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, something flickered there. Something that might have been recognition. Or guilt. Or the brief, panicked realization that he had bee

The Other Woman in My House

MARY'S POV: Something shifted in his expression. Not guilt, I don't think Alistair was capable of guilt, not really. But something softer. Something almost like the man I had married, buried somewhere beneath the layers of selfishness and entitlement. He stepped closer and reached out and took my hands in his. His palms were warm, familiar. I had held these hands at our wedding. I had held them in hospital rooms when Elowen was born. I had held them through the deaths of people we loved and the birth of dreams we never got around to chasing. "I'm sorry," he said, and his voice was softer now and nore gentler. The voice he used when he wanted something from me. "I'm sorry about yelling at Elowen. I shouldn't have done that. I was… I don't know. I was frustrated. The flight was long, and the reporters were everywhere, and I wasn't thinking clearly." He squeezed my fingers. "I was drunk, Mary. In that video. I'd had too much to drink, and I wasn't thinking straight, and I said some

The Woman Before Me

MARY'S POV:I sat on the edge of Elowen's bed long after she had fallen asleep, my back pressed against the headboard, my knees drawn up to my chest like a child hiding from a thunderstorm.I hadn't slept at all.I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vesper's face on that pillow—peaceful, beautiful, utterly unbothered by the destruction she had brought into my home. Every time I let my breathing slow, I saw her dark hair spread across the white sheets like ink spilled on fresh snow. I saw her lips, slightly parted in sleep. I saw her bare shoulder, exposed and vulnerable and somehow still looking like she belonged there, in my house, in my guest room, in the bed where my husband had promised to sleep alone.And the worst part, the part that kept twisting through my mind like a knife, was that neither of them knew I had seen.I had stood in that doorway, frozen, my hand still on the frame, my breath caught somewhere between my throat and my chest. I had watched them. I h

The Love He Hid From Me

MARY'S POV:Somewhere deep down, in a place I didn't want to acknowledge, I realized the truth: I still wanted to believe him. Even now. Even after seeing Vesper in that bed. Some pathetic, desperate part of me still wanted all of this to be a nightmare. I wanted the video to be edited. I wanted Vesper to be just an old friend. I wanted there to be some perfectly innocent explanation for why she was sleeping in my guest room in the middle of the night.Because if I asked the questions out loud—if I said the words are you sleeping with her or do you love her or have you ever loved me at all—then they would become real. They would exist in the world, spoken aloud, impossible to take back. And I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of reality.So I had stayed silent.I had closed the door.And I had pretended, just like I had been pretending for seven years, that everything was fine.A car engine rumbled outside the window.I leaned toward the crack in the curtains and peered out throug

Being An Understanding Wife

MARY'S POV:The name hit me like a slap."Vesper," I said carefully."An old friend from the university. She's dealing with some things—her lease is up, and there's some construction at her new place, and she doesn't have anywhere else to go. I said she could crash here for a few weeks. Maybe a month." He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug. "I meant to tell you last night, but it was too late when I got home, and then everything with Elowen happened, and I just… I didn't get the chance."An old friend.The same words he had used before. The same lie, wrapped in slightly different packaging."She's here now?" I asked. Pretending I didn't already know."She arrived late last night. I let her in while you were putting Elowen to bed." He set down his mug and crossed his arms, and his expression shifted into something almost like expectation. Like he was waiting for me to object so he could dismiss it. "I'd appreciate it if you made her feel welcome. Cook a few o

The Love He Preserved

MARY'S POV:He looked me up and down very slowly. The way you might look at a piece of furniture you were considering buying but weren't sure would fit in your living room."Alistair called me," he said, and his voice was exactly what I expected—low, rough, with an edge of something that might have been amusement or might have been disdain. Hard to tell. "Woke me up in the middle of the night. Three in the morning. On a Wednesday. Do you know what I was doing at three in the morning?"I did not know abd I also did not care."He didn't even ask," the man continued, pushing past me into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. "Just called and said I need you here like I was some kind of errand boy. And why? Why did he drag me out of bed and put me on a plane at an ungodly hour?"He turned to face me, spreading his arms wide as if presenting evidence in a courtroom."For her. For his precious goddess. For the woman he has been pining over since." He laughed—a short, bitter sound. "F

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