Ex's crazy pursuit After Divorce (Chloe and Adrian) novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Let’s Play a Game

Something was gnawing at Adrian, making him restless.

For the past few days, Chloe had been acting off–barely texting, barely checking in.

Could she… really be mad at him?

No way. Chloe wasn’t the type to hold grudges over something petty.

Adrian kept telling himself that, but he couldn’t shake the knot of panic in his chest.

“How about we play a game?” someone suggested as the night wound down.

“What kind of game?”

The guy placed his phone on the table.

“Everyone put your phones here. Whoever’s wife calls first to drag them home gets to leave first. If your phone doesn’t ring, you’re stuck here.”

“No way! My heartless wife never cares how late I stay out. She’d probably prefer I drink myself to death here. I’d definitely lose,” someone joked.

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< Chapter 8 Let’s Play a Game

“Can we bet on this? Adrian’s obviously gonna win. Every time he goes out, Chloe’s the first to call and check on him.”

The guy grinned at Adrian and waved him over. “Come on, Adrian! This is a sure win for you.”

“Boring,” Adrian said flatly, but he still pulled out his phone and placed it on the table.

Something flickered across his mind, and before he knew it, a small smile tugged at his lips.

Marcus glanced at him, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Soon enough, a phone began to ring on the table.

“There it is! Adrian, quick, answer it!”

Adrian reached for the phone with his usual steady expression, but then he froze. The ringtone was the same, but it wasn’t his phone.

His hand stopped mid–air.

The confident gleam in his eyes faded.

“Holy shit! It’s my heartless sweetie calling!” Evan Reed

2/8

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B

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<Chapter 8 Let’s Play a Game

blurted out, his voice full of surprise.

“Damn, my baby really came through today–she even beat Adrian! Haha, I’m outta here first. See you later, bros!”

Evan snatched up his phone and jacket, answering the call with a goofy grin as he bounced out of the room.

Everyone looked at Adrian with awkward, uncomfortable expressions.

“Well, uh… the second call’s definitely gonna be Adrian’s. Evan just got lucky this time, beating him once. No big deal. Let’s keep waiting.”

Someone tried to smooth things over, and Adrian’s expression softened slightly after the explanation.

Second place was fine. He wasn’t that petty about these things.

Soon, the second phone rang.

Adrian instinctively reached for it, but his hand had barely lifted when he saw the lit screen still wasn’t his.

Adrian’s face darkened again.

“It’s me, it’s me… Hello? Honey… just finishing up, I’ll be right

out.” 3/8

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< Chapter 8 Let’s Play a Game

Then came the third call, the fourth…

People in the room answered calls one by one and left.

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With each ring and each letdown, Adrian’s expression grew uglier.

Gradually, only Marcus and a few single women who hadn’t joined the game remained, along with Natalie.

Eventually, even the single women left. Only Marcus, Adrian, and Natalie stayed in the room.

Marcus was going through a cooling–off period in his divorce, so he hadn’t participated in the game.

Adrian’s phone sat alone on the table, as if mocking him with Chloe’s silence.

Expressionless, he picked it up and forced a scoff, trying to look

calm.

“This game is so stupid. Let’s never play it again.”

Marcus shot him a sympathetic look but stayed quiet.

“What’s wrong with Chloe?” Natalie asked, her voice dripping with concern.

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“She’s usually the first to call, dragging Adrian home before the party’s even over. But tonight? Nothing. Not one call.”

Her eyes flicked toward Adrian with fake worry.

“Is Chloe still mad at you? It’s my fault, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have asked you out. I’m the one causing problems between you

two.”

Marcus finally spoke, his tone cool.

“Since you know that, maybe don’t do such thoughtless things next time. Adrian’s a married man. Stop dragging him into everything.”

His words weren’t harsh, but the criticism was crystal clear.

Natalie’s eyes immediately reddened. She pouted, looking utterly wronged.

“Do you really think I did it on purpose, Marc? I didn’t mean to cause trouble. I just… I just feel so insecure and depend on Adrian too much.”

Her voice cracked as tears started spilling down her cheeks.

“I’ll try to overcome it, I promise. I won’t cause problems for their marriage again.”

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She looked at Marcus through watery, red–rimmed eyes, her voice trembling.

“Marc, please believe me, I…”

Natalie tried to defend herself, but Marcus lifted a hand, cutting her off.

“Whether I believe you doesn’t matter. And another thing—just call me Marcus like Gabriel and the others do. Don’t call me Marc so intimately. I’m not Adrian–I can’t stand it.”

The bluntness of his words hit like a slap. Her fake sweetness stripped bare, Natalie’s face flushed red with humiliation.

But she was well–practiced. The tears came instantly.

“Marc…”

Marcus’s frown deepened in open disgust. Natalie flinched and quickly corrected herself.

“Marc–Marcus.”

“Did Olivia say something about me?” she asked weakly. “She’s close with Chloe, so I get why she’d misunderstand me. But I

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“Enough!” Marcus snapped, his sharp gaze making her jump.

“Talking crap about Chloe wasn’t enough? Now you’re

dragging Olivia into it? I’m not Adrian–I don’t fall for your

act.”

He stood, grabbing his jacket, and leveled her with a cold warning look.

“And quit calling Olivia ‘sister.‘ She’s a year younger than you.”

Natalie froze. The sting of having her act exposed burned hot across her face.

She turned helplessly toward Adrian, tears shimmering in her

eyes.

Adrian, unable to stand seeing her cry, instinctively spoke up.

“Come on, Marcus, it’s just a form of address. Why make such a big deal?”

Marcus shrugged off the comment and strode toward the door.

At the threshold, he paused deliberately.

“Oh, by the way, Olivia and Chloe were classmates. Chloe skipped grades, so she’s probably years younger than you. You’re older than both of them, so stop calling them ‘sister.‘ It’s 7/8

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< Chapter 8 Let’s Play a Game

weird.”

Natalie went speechless.

Marcus, damn you!

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