All Chapters of Bound to my Ex husband’s uncle: Chapter 31 - Chapter 39

The house is quiet, too quiet even. I sit alone at the dining table, a cup of tea growing cold between my hands. UThe fever has gone down, but I still feel weak. My head throbs dully, and my body aches in a way that has nothing to do with illness. I glance at the clock hanging in the kitchen. 8:37 p.m. Ethan left a little after eight this morning. He never came back, not even once, not to check on me, not to see if my fever had worsened. Nothing. A bitter smile tugs at my lips, I shouldn’t be surprised. He did exactly what he's always done, he chose her.Again. I lower my gaze to the stack of papers sitting neatly on the table beside me. Divorce papers. Claire's law firm had drafted them weeks ago, I'd been hesitating, waiting for the right opportunity. Hoping that Ethan would wake up one morning and realize what he was throwing away, that we were throwing away. Now I know better. There is nothing left to save. I spent the entire afternoon going through every clause, ever

The next morning, I wake up with a headache. Not the blinding, fever-induced kind from yesterday.This one is dull and persistent. The kind that settles behind your eyes after a night spent crying.I lie in bed for several moments, staring at the ceiling.For one blissful second, I forget.Then I remember everything and just like that, the heaviness returns.I drag myself out of bed, the house is eerily quiet.Ethan has already left for work.Good.I don't think I can look at him right now.The day crawls by and I spend most of it in the guest room, alternating between reading and mindlessly scrolling through my phone. Claire calls twice to check on me. I lie both times and tell her I'm fine.She doesn't believe me.I know because she says, "I'm coming over."I tell her not to.The last thing I need is Claire marching into this house and committing homicide.Around three in the afternoon, there's a knock on my bedroom door."Mrs.?"I look up from my book."Come in."The door opens, re

The moment we step through the grand entrance of the Wolfe estate, I want to leave. The place is dazzling. Crystal chandeliers spill warm light across polished marble floors that reflect everything like dark mirrors. A string quartet plays softly from the balcony overhead, the notes drifting down like they belong to another, happier world. Impeccably dressed guests drift through the ballroom with champagne flutes in hand, their laughter low and polished. Every corner screams wealth, prestige, perfection….towering floral arrangements heavy with white roses and orchids, waiters gliding by in crisp tuxedos, the faint scent of expensive perfume and aged whiskey hanging in the air. I feel none of it. My silk gown clings to my skin, cool and expensive, but it suddenly feels like a costume. Ethan’s hand settles lightly against the small of my back, warm and possessive through the thin fabric. He guides me forward without asking. “Come on,” he says quietly, his voice low near my ear.

I clear my throat, trying to recover what little dignity I have left. “What are you doing here?” The second the words leave my mouth, I cringe. Brilliant. Questioning the owner of the estate about why he’s at his own family banquet. Dante arches one dark eyebrow. “I live here.” “…Right.” Heat creeps up my neck. “That was a stupid question.” “A little.” His lips twitch and I narrow my eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “I’m thinking about it.” I huff. “Glad I’m entertaining someone tonight.” His gaze drops briefly to the empty champagne flute in my hand.“One glass?” “What?” “You’ve only had one.” I blink. “…Yes.” “It won’t help.” I stare at him. “Excuse me?” He nods toward the ballroom behind us. “Whatever you’re trying to forget.” His voice remains calm. “One glass won’t be enough.” For a moment…I don’t know what to say. He already knows I’m not out here enjoying the view. I’m hiding.I force myself to look away.“It’s not that dramatic.”“No?”His voice

I give a small nod and start walking toward the balcony doors, my heels clicking softly. The silk gown flows around my legs with each step, cool and elegant despite everything. Just before I reach for the ornate handle, Dante speaks again, his voice calm and even, directed at my back. “Mrs. Hart.” I pause, hand hovering. “You’ve spent the entire evening worrying about what everyone else thinks.” His words cut through the night air with quiet precision. “Stop giving people who don’t respect you that much power.” I don’t turn around immediately. The statement sinks in, stirring something deep and uncomfortable in my chest. The whispers inside, Sophia’s jests about my inability to conceive, Ethan’s public control….it all feels heavier when named so plainly. I’m not ready to fully unpack it yet, not tonight. I simply nod once, the movement small but deliberate, and push open the door. Stepping back into the ballroom is like crossing into another world. Warm air rushes over me, thick