Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 186

Chapter 186

Chapter 186

Marco pulled up in front of the small house on Maple Street and sat in his car with the engine running. He hadn’t been here in seven years. Not since they’d moved to the bigger place, the one where he’d later packed Lucia’s belongings and destroyed seventeen years of marriage.

This was their first real home. The one they’d bought with Lucia’s inheritance money and his small business loan. The one where they’d brought baby Ria home from the hospital. The one where Lucas had taken his first steps and Monica had said her first word.

The house looked smaller than he remembered. The paint was different now. Blue instead of the cream color Lucia had chosen. Someone else’s flower beds lined the walkway. Someone else’s car sat in the driveway.

But Marco could still see it as it had been. Could still picture Lucia standing on the front porch waving goodbye when he left for work. Could still hear the children’s laughter echoing from the backyard.

He turned off the engine and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The afternoon sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The same colors it had been the day they’d signed the papers and gotten the keys.

Lucia had cried that day. Happy tears. She’d grabbed his hand and pulled him through every room, talking about their plans. “This will be Ria’s room when she’s old enough. And this can be the guest room until we have another baby. And the kitchen is perfect. Did you see the kitchen, Marco? It’s perfect.”

Marco walked slowly up the sidewalk, his feet carrying him closer to a past he could never reclaim. He stopped at the front door. A wreath hung there now. Seasonal decorations that weren’t theirs. A doormat that read “Welcome” in cheerful letters.

He remembered the doormat they’d had. Plain brown with no words. Lucia had wanted to replace it with something nicer but they’d been saving money. Always saving for the future. For the kids’ education. For growing the business. For the life they were building together.

The kitchen window faced the street. Marco moved closer, peering through the glass like a ghost haunting his own history. The layout was the same but everything else was different. New cabinets. New countertops. New people living a life that should have been his.

He could see it though. Could see past the changes to what had been there before.

Lucia standing at the stove making Sunday pancakes while Ria sat at the table doing homework. The way she’ d hum while she cooked. The way she’d dance around the kitchen with baby Lucas on her hip while dinner simmered. The way she’d kiss Marco goodbye every morning and tell him to drive safe.

When had he stopped noticing those kisses? When had they become routine instead of precious?

Marco moved to the side of the house where the backyard was visible through a gap in the fence. He could see the tree they’d planted when Ria turned five. It was bigger now. Taller. Strong branches reaching toward the sky.

Ria had insisted on planting it herself. She’d dug the hole with a little plastic shovel, her face serious with concentration. Lucia had helped her place the sapling and pack the dirt around it. Marco had taken pictures.

“This tree is going to grow with us, Daddy.” Ria’s voice echoed in his memory. “When I’m old, it will be old too. And I’ll bring my children here to see the tree I planted when I was five.”

But she’d never bring her children here. Because Marco had destroyed that future. Had taken that possibility away from all of them.

Marco leaned against the fence, his legs suddenly weak. The memories were too strong. Too vivid. Too painful.

Ria at thirteen, standing in their living room holding a trophy from the state design competition. Her face glowing with pride and accomplishment. Her voice trembling with emotion as she gave her acceptance speech

1/3

Successfully unlocked!

Chapter 186

“I want to thank my parents for always believing in me. My mom who drove me to classes every Saturday and never complained about the cost. My dad who told me I could do anything if I worked hard enough. You’re my heroes. Both of you. And I’m going to make you proud.”

Marco’s throat closed up. He’d been so proud that day. Had taken the trophy and set it on the mantle like it was made of gold. Had told everyone at work about his brilliant daughter who was going to be a famous designer someday.

When had that pride turned to indifference? When had he stopped going to her shows? When had he started missing her important moments because he was too busy with Margaret?

The answer came clear and brutal. When Margaret smiled at him across that conference table and made him feel young and desired again. When the thrill of something new became more important than the depth of something lasting.

Marco pushed away from the fence and walked back to the front of the house. He sat down on the curb, not caring if the current owners saw him. Not caring about anything except the crushing weight of what he’d lost.

His mind drifted back further. Past this house. Past Lucia. All the way back to his childhood.

His mother’s voice echoed in his head. Sharp. Critical. Always finding fault.

“Your grades aren’t good enough, Marco. Stop wasting time with your friends and study harder.”

“You call that cleaned? Do it again. And this time do it right.”

“Love isn’t free, Marco. You have to earn it. You have to be perfect. You have to be worthy.”

But he was never perfect enough. Never worthy enough. No matter how hard he tried, his mother’s approval remained just out of reach. Conditional on achievements. Contingent on performance. Never freely given.

His father had been different but no better. Weak. Passive. A man who let his wife run everything while he hid behind newspapers and long hours at the office.

“Your mother knows best, son. Just do what she says and everything will be fine.”

“Don’t talk back. Men don’t argue. Men take charge or they get walked over. There’s no middle ground.”

“If you can’t control your own household, you’re not a real man.”

Marco had absorbed those lessons like poison. Had learned that love required control. That affection was something you earned through dominance. That weakness in a man was unforgivable.

He’d sworn he wouldn’t be like them. Had promised himself when he married Lucia that he’d be different. Better. A husband who showed love freely. A father who gave approval without conditions.

But somewhere along the way, his mother’s voice had crept into his head. Her standards. Her expectations. Her belief that love was something you controlled and withheld to maintain power.

And his father’s weakness had become his own. The need to dominate to feel secure. The inability to admit fault. The belief that apologizing meant surrendering power.

Marco had become exactly what he’d hated.

He’d criticized Lucia the way his mother had criticized him. Found fault in her cooking, her appearance, her choices. Made her feel like she wasn’t good enough no matter how hard she tried.

He’d hit Lucas. His own son. Put bruises on a child’s face because he was angry and couldn’t control his temper. Just like his father had done to him on the few occasions the passive man had snapped.

The memory came unbidden. Marco at twelve, talking back to his mother. His father’s hand connecting with his face hard enough to knock him down. The shock more than the pain. The realization that the quiet man could be violent too.

“That’s what happens when you disrespect your mother. That’s what happens when you forget your place.”

And Marco had done the same thing to Lucas. Different words but the same violence. The same abuse disguised as discipline.

The affair with Margaret. Marco’s mind circled back to that betrayal. His father had cheated on his mother.

2/3

Chapter 186

Everyone had known but no one talked about it. The secretary who got promoted too quickly. The late nights at the office that smelled like perfume.

His mother had stayed. Had pretended not to notice. Had maintained the facade of a perfect family while dying inside.

And Marco had repeated the pattern. Had cheated on Lucia. Had brought Margaret into their lives. Had destroyed his family the same way his father had damaged his.

The cycle. The horrible repeating cycle of abuse and betrayal and control.

Marco buried his face in his hands. All the things he’d sworn he’d never do. All the promises he’d made to himself about being different. Better. A man who broke the pattern instead of perpetuating it.

And he’d failed. Completely. Devastatingly.

He’d taken his mother’s conditional love and used it to make Lucia feel inadequate. Had taken his father’s violence and used it against his own children. Had taken the infidelity that had scarred his childhood and inflicted the same wounds on his family.

He was his parents. Both of them. All their worst qualities combined and multiplied.

Ria’s words from earlier came back to him. “You need help. Professional help. You need to talk to someone about your anger, your need to control people, your inability to take responsibility.”

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify