All Chapters of DIVORCED Back To Claim What’s Mine : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

123 Chapters

Chapter ninety one

Elara POV The red warning light on Sarah’s tablet pulsed in the dim penthouse living room, casting a rhythmic, bloody glow across Tyler’s hardened face. In an instant, the peaceful warmth of the afternoon with Leo was completely obliterated, replaced by the cold, lethal instincts of a military-trained security detail.Tyler didn't hesitate. He pulled a sleek, matte-black handgun from his shoulder holster, his thumb instantly flicking off the safety with a metallic click that made Sarah gasp. He gestured toward the nursery hallway, his voice a low, commanding whisper."Sarah, get back to the nursery. Lock the door. If a single pane of glass breaks, you take Leo into the panic room and you don't come out until you hear my voice. Go."Sarah nodded frantically, her tablet clutched to her chest as she sprinted down the corridor, her bare feet silent on the plush rug. Tyler turned to Elara, his hand wrapping gently but firmly around her wrist, pulling her back behind the structural concret

Chapter ninety two

The high-end diagnostic console in Tyler’s secure tech suite hummed, its cool blue lights reflecting off the polished white quartz of the counter. Elara stood close, her eyes locked on the sleek, metallic drive that Tyler had just slotted into the terminal. Beside them, Sarah’s fingers hovered over her keyboard, her face tense as she prepared to monitor the decryption sequence.For a second, the screen remained black. Then, a single, thin green line cut horizontally across the monitor, attempting to map the directory of the titanium drive.But instead of loading the promised forgery codes, the legal ledgers, or the transaction routing numbers, the system suddenly locked up. The soft blue interface of the terminal turned a harsh, flashing amber.An aggressive, bold red text splashed across the center of the display, blinking with a deafening digital frequency.⁠WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.⁠Tyler’s brow furrowed, his hand immediately moving closer to his sidear

Chapter ninety three

(The Vane’s Mansion)The violent, lashing storm of the night had finally wept itself dry, leaving behind a sharp, cold autumn morning. As the morning sun rose over the manicured hedges of the Vane estate, its weak, golden light caught the lingering puddles on the driveway, turning the gravel paths into shimmering, fractured mirrors. But inside the mansion, there was no warmth to be found. The air was frozen, heavy with the quiet, electrical charge of a bomb waiting for its fuse to spark.Charlie woke up with a violent jerk, his chest heaving, his body drenched in a cold, anxious sweat. He had barely slept, his mind haunted by nightmares of red stock charts, margin calls, and his mother’s icy, final threats on the phone. He reached out to rub his face, his hand shaking so badly he could barely control his fingers.Suddenly, the high-priority chime of the estate's security gate console broke the silence of the bedroom, ringing out with a sharp, demanding tone.Charlie scrambled out of b

Chapter ninety four

The violent, red-and-blue strobe of the police cruisers sliced through the frosted glass of the Vane mansion foyer, painting the pristine marble walls in a chaotic, rhythmic pulse. The high-society quiet of the estate was utterly shattered. Outside, the gravel driveway was crowded with unmarked federal sedans and state police vehicles, their engines idling in a low, rumbling chorus that sounded like a mechanical beast waiting to swallow the house whole.Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating.Evelyn Vane stood frozen, her hand suspended inches from her pearls, her cold, calculated composure fracturing as the heavy oak doors were pushed open. Charlie, already hyperventilating, grabbed the back of a velvet armchair to steady his shaking knees. Lydia backed slowly into the shadow of the staircase, her chest heaving, her dilated eyes darting frantically toward the service exit.Five law enforcement officers, led by a stern federal investigator in a dark overcoat, strode into the grand foy

Chapter ninety five

"Go back to your room," Evelyn spoke, her voice dropping into a quiet, menacing register that made the hair on Beatrice's neck stand up. She stood in the center of the grand foyer, looking like an ancient, unforgiving queen carved from white marble. Her pristine ivory tweed suit was immaculate, her South Sea pearls resting undisturbed against her collarbone, but her face was a mask of pure, freezing rage. She did not look at the heavy double doors. She did not look toward the rain-swept driveway where her only son had just been loaded into a federal vehicle like a common criminal. Instead, her icy blue eyes remained locked on Silas and Beatrice Vance, who were still huddled together near the entrance of the east wing like a pair of damp, forgotten gargoyles. "Evelyn, please" Silas began, his voice hoarse and cracking as he made a pathetic, desperate attempt to salvage whatever dignity he had left. "Do not speak to me, Silas," Evelyn cut him o

Chapter ninety six

"You are kidding me," Elara breathed, her coffee mug suspended mid-air as she stared blankly at Sarah.A single, breathless giggle escaped her lips, breaking the early morning quiet of the penthouse. It was a soft, incredulous sound, but within seconds, the sheer, brilliant absurdity of what Sarah had just said bubbled up from deep in her chest. The heavy porcelain mug clattered against the polished white quartz of the kitchen island as Elara collapsed against Tyler’s chest, her shoulders shaking violently with a rich, triumphant laughter that she couldn't contain.Tyler let out a low, deep chuckle of his own, his chest rumbling with a dark, predatory amusement as his strong arms wrapped around her waist to steady her."I am not kidding!" Sarah squealed, letting out a loud, victorious laugh that echoed off the high ceiling of the living room as she frantically tapped her tablet, casting the live media feed onto the grand interactive glass wall. "Look at the screen, Elara! It’s an abso

Chapter ninety seven

(The Vane’s Mansion)The drive back from the federal holding facility was a suffocating, silent nightmare. The armored black SUV, flanked by two private security vehicles, glided through the iron gates of the Vane estate, its tires crunching softly on the wet gravel. Inside, Charlie sat huddled against the door, his eyes bloodshot, his wrists raw and red from the tight grip of the steel handcuffs. He was a shell of a man, his expensive designer suit rumpled and stained with sweat, his breathing shallow and rapid.Beside him, Lydia was locked in a state of absolute, hyper vigilant terror. Her fingers clutched the emerald silk wrap dress tightly over her stomach, her skin pale, a cold sweat slicking her palms. The high-dose stimulants she had taken earlier had completely burned out of her system, leaving behind a jagged, exhausting crash. Her mind was spinning on a frantic, desperate loop. How did she do it? How did Evelyn get us out? They had expected to be locked in a concrete cell fo

Chapter ninety eight

Lydia’s heels clicked softly against the plush Persian runner of the grand staircase, but her mind was running at a chaotic, dizzying speed. She was drowning in a sea of pure, unadulterated confusion. She couldn't stop wondering about the sudden, drastic change in Charlie's mother's behavior. How was it possible that the woman who had arrived like an executioner, ready to strip them of their name and freedom, was now smiling and offering them a peaceful sanctuary? Was it possible that Mother Earth was finally doing things in her favor, aligning the stars to protect her just when her world was about to collapse? Or was this the eerie, silent calm before a massive tidal wave swept them all into the abyss?Lydia clutched her emerald silk dress, her knuckles white, her heart beating a frantic, rhythmic warning against her ribs. She wanted to believe she was safe, but every single survival instinct she had honed over the years screamed that Evelyn Vane did not forgive, and she certainly di

Chapter ninety nine

The gentle, rhythmic clinking of a silver spoon against fine bone china was the only sound that dared to disturb the oppressive quiet of the formal dining room. Evelyn Vane sat perfectly poised at the head of the long mahogany table, her eyes half-closed as she savored a delicate sip of her hot Earl Grey tea. The morning sun, now fully risen, poured through the towering arched windows, illuminating the silver-plated serving domes, the baskets of warm, flaky croissants, and the pale, terrified faces of the family gathered around her.Silas Vance tried to swallow a piece of buttered toast, but it felt like dry cardboard in his throat. Beside him, Beatrice sat like a statue, her back rigid, her manicured fingers tightly curled around her linen napkin. They kept their eyes cast downward, not daring to look at the Vane matriarch, nor at their daughter, who sat directly across from Charlie.Lydia stared blankly into her black coffee, watching her own hollow reflection tremble in the dark li

Chapter one-hundred

The moment Evelyn Vane’s elegant, gray cashmere form disappeared around the corner of the dining room hallway, the temperature in the room seemed to skyrocket. A sudden, suffocating wave of heat washed over Lydia, blooming from the center of her chest and radiating down her arms until her fingertips tingled with a prickling, feverish sweat. She felt as if she were burning alive from the inside out. Her chest rose and fell in short, jagged hitches, her throat so dry that when she tried to swallow, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.Should I tell them the truth now? The thought flashed through her mind, a frantic, screaming voice of pure, unadulterated surrender. Should I just look Charlie in the eye and admit there is no baby? Should I tell Evelyn that she’s won? No. She couldn't do it. She had sacrificed too much, lied too many times, and burned too many bridges to simply roll over and let them throw her into a cold, dark federal cell. But as the terrifying reality of her situ

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