Divorce Failed! My Wife's Secret Identities Shock the World novel Chapter 212

"You streamed for two hours," Andres said. "You've got to be hungry."

The second Maeve saw the food, she realized she was.

"Want to eat together?"

Andres wasn't about to turn that down.

While Maeve had been live, he'd been in another room the whole time, tense as a wire—half afraid the pressure would get to her, half afraid some bad-faith troll would whip the chat into a frenzy and drag her under.

By now his stomach had been empty for hours.

As they ate, Andres said sincerely, "You were incredible tonight."

Maeve took slow sips of creamy mushroom soup. At that, she lifted a brow. "You watched the whole thing?"

"I did," Andres admitted. "And now I get why you waited until today. You let the outrage build up—so when you hit back, it actually hurt."

Before tonight, he hadn't understood why Maeve let the Morales family's hired bots smear her all over the internet.

Now it was obvious: online outrage was fuel, and she'd let them pour it on.

The trolls had jumped around digging for "dirt," and in a short time Maeve had been dragged onto trending lists again and again.

The more onlookers piled in, the more solid the Morales family's victim narrative became.

And once a narrative set, it became the perfect stage for Maeve to drop a bomb big enough to level the whole house.

If she'd fought back the moment the harassment started, the Morales family wouldn't have been hit nearly as hard as they were tonight.

The higher the pedestal, the uglier the fall.

After this, there was no way the Morales family could come out of it unscathed.

Andres kept his expression neutral, but inside he couldn't stop admiring how perfectly she'd executed the counterstrike.

When they finished, Maeve flicked him a look—blatantly suggestive.

"So… back to the bedroom to make a baby?"

They moved through each other like they'd been built for it, switching rhythms and angles until pleasure flooded them both, body and mind, like heaven had cracked open.

Afterward, Andres carried Maeve into the bathroom.

With water rushing around them, they found each other again—tangled, breathless, fused together.

By the time they finally fell asleep in each other's arms, it was 1:30 a.m.

In the morning, Maeve woke to an empty bed.

The wall clock read 8:20.

She must've been truly drained to sleep this late.

Mateo Fulton had gotten her a week off, but unfortunately, today was the last day.

She played for a while with Lucifer curled at the foot of the bed, then slipped on a silk robe and left the bedroom.