All Chapters of Divorced, But Taken By My Ex’s Uncle For Revenge: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Five days later. The car door closes behind me with a soft click. The club is louder up close. The sound of bass vibrates through the ground, lights shining all around, and people are standing outside in clusters — some laughing, some smoking, some pretending they’re not being watched. They seem to be really enjoying their Saturday night, though. One night think I’m also here for that, but that’s not it. I’m here with Nathaniel for a meeting he has with the club owner. Strange, I know. But I wanted to leave the penthouse a little, given Father and Carson have been stressing me out throughout the week, so I thought, why not breathe in some fresh air? Hence our presence here. As if he can hear my thoughts, Nathaniel places a palm behind my back and nudges me forward gently as we walk towards the VIP entrance. The moment we walk into the building, a few heads turn towards us, the air changing as people take in Nathaniel. He, on the other hand, doesn’t even spare them a g

When I return to the VIP room, Nathaniel and Anderson are still talking. Over the pounding of my pulse and racing of my heart in my ears, the vibration of music from the bar reaches us, but I don’t think too much about it as I walk over to the couch and take my former position. Nathaniel’s gaze flicks to me as I seat, but it returns to Anderson almost immediately, and I remain there, waiting for him to finish so I can tell him what I heard back there. “…expansion is only viable if the exclusivity holds,” Anderson is saying, his voice reaching my ears as he leans forward slightly towards Nathaniel. “Otherwise, it’s going to lose value. The club, I mean.” Nathaniel nods slowly. “Then you’ll have to make sure the expansion holds.” His words are simple and decisive, and while I don’t even understand what he’s talking about, it sounds like something that can be done easily. At least to him. In response to his words, though, Anderson lets out a small laugh. “Easier said than done

Have I ever mentioned that Elara would be the death of me? If I didn’t, well, she’s going to be. If I have, she still is going to be the death of me. She’s currently impaled on my cock, her pupils blown wide, her breath coming out of her in short, ragged gasps. But she still won’t let me take control. And fuck if I intend to deny her the right. Still, I don’t let the opportunity to ask pass by. “Elara — “ I call again, just as she begins to move, grinding her hips. “Fuck.” “Mmmm,” she moans, lifting her hips now, then slamming back down on my cock, I swear the breath swooshes out of my throat. “You’re — hey!” She grabs my hands just as I’m about to touch her and places them above my head, holding up before she continues her ministrations on my cock. For a brief moment, I wonder if she realizes I can literally yank my hands and take control of this situation, or if she thinks she’s actually in control. Either ways, I let her be. I let her be because I have no fucking idea

I wake up to the side of the bed already cold. My hands flail towards where Nathaniel laid down last night to confirm, and a strange, cold feeling settles in my stomach when I feel nothing. Nathaniel isn’t there. At first, I just lay there, but I’m suddenly attacked by the memory of how last night ended — with Nathaniel kissing away my tears before he put me to bed and hugged me to sleep. Why would he do that? Isn’t he aware that’s breaching our agreement terms? My gaze remains fixed on the ceiling above me and I don’t blink, like that alone might explain whatever warm feelings I felt last night when he did all that. And when it doesn’t — obviously — I push myself up slowly, the sheets slipping off my waist. The room is quiet and empty as expected. Just that, I won’t stay there. Besides, I have to meet Father and Carson for lunch later today. At the thought, I reach for my phone on the nightstand and unlock it, only to receive a notification. It’s a text from Father con

I have no idea if it’s just me, but the air outside the restaurant feels different. It feels lighter and less suffocating, but it doesn’t help loosen the knot tightened deep inside me. The sound of my heels click against the pavement floors as I step outside, and Laurent is beside me, adjusting his jacket like he’s already rearranging the situation in his head. Neither of us speaks for a few seconds, and just when I wonder if he’s not going to say anything, he breaks it. “That was the right call,” he says simply, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. I don’t look at him when I reply. “Was it?” “Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “If they can introduce someone like that without prior documentation, then they’re relying on control instead of structure.” That makes me slow my steps slightly. “Control?” I repeat. Laurent nods once. “Not legal clarity, obviously. It’s more of an emotional pressure — that’s what they’re resulting to.” I let out an exhale and glance at him from