Rise of the Formidable Ex-wife (Lucia and Alex) novel Chapter 47

The hallway outside Lucas’s room was cold and narrow, though they had walked it a thousand times. Tonight it felt different. Oppressive. Each of the three siblings pressed against the wall, their backs stiff, hearts hammering. The echoes from below kept them in a state of alert. Crash. Thump. Clatter. Every sound made them jump, tense, flinching. Margaret’s rage was still thick in the air, hanging in every corner of the house. Ria pressed her hands to her face. Her mascara had run, streaks down her cheeks. She looked down at the bronze medal she had been awarded, now lost somewhere in the chaos downstairs. She whispered, voice shaking. “Has she always been like this?”

Monica hugged her knees to her chest, drawing them in tight. “This… this is the real Margaret. The one I tried to warn you about. The one we kept pretending didn’t exist.”

Lucas’s jaw was tight. His hands fisted in his lap. “We saw it tonight. All of it. Every single part. And now we know. There is no pretending anymore.”

Ria shook her head, her voice breaking. “I defended her… so many times. When you said she was mean, Monica, I told you that you were too sensitive. That you didn’t understand her. That she was only trying to help us.”

The words struck Lucas and Monica like a punch. How many times had they ignored their instincts, their own feelings? How many times had Ria told herself that defending Margaret was easier than admitting that something was wrong? How many times had they laughed off warning signs, writing them off as overreactions, wanting the family to seem normal?

“She criticized me constantly,” Ria said, shaking, tears dropping onto her hands. “Every drawing. Every idea. Every color. Something was always wrong. Something not good enough. I believed her. I thought she was preparing me for the real world.”

“She was tearing you down,” Monica said quietly. “She did the same to me. To all of us. And we let it happen because we wanted to believe in her. Because we wanted her to like us. Because we wanted Dad to be happy.”

Lucas thought of Ashford, of the acceptance letter he had received. Margaret had dismissed it as impractical. Too expensive. Not worth the effort. He thought of the countless times Mom had celebrated him, believed in him, kept every ribbon, every certificate, every little accomplishment. Mom had been present when no one else was. And they had thrown that away. For Margaret’s approval. For her validation.

“I chose her over Mom,” Lucas said quietly, but every word hurt him. “At the party. At the wedding. Every day since. We chose Margaret because Dad said she was better. Because she seemed exciting. Because we were stupid. We were just kids who believed lies.”

Ria sobbed harder. “Mom asked about the property transfers. About Margaret picking furniture. And I defended Dad. I said Mom was imagining things. I said she was paranoid. That Dad wouldn’t lie to us.” “But he did lie,” Monica said, her voice small but steady. “About everything. About loving Mom. About the marriage failing. About Margaret being what he needed. All lies.”

From downstairs came a noise, soft at first, then louder. A thump. Then another. Glass breaking. The children froze. Lucas’s stomach dropped. He couldn’t tell what it was. Something was wrong.

“What was that?” Ria whispered, trembling.

Lucas stood slowly, peering toward the staircase. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re fighting again.”

Another crash. No voices, just noise. Wrong noise. Disturbing.

Monica’s hands trembled. “Should we… check?”

Lucas shook his head, uncertainty in his chest. “We have to. Something’s wrong. I don’t know what, but we have to go.”

Ria shook her head, fear gripping her chest. “I don’t want to see her. Not again. Not screaming at us. Not tonight.”

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Chapter 47

Lucas swallowed hard. “We have to. We have to know if Dad is okay.”

Slowly, they descended the stairs, each step creaking under their weight. Their hearts hammered. Every footfall echoed. The hallway seemed endless.

The dining room was frozen in chaos. Broken dishes. Spilled wine. Overturned chairs. The destruction of Ria’s celebration was complete. But a new element made Lucas freeze: whiskey bottles on the counter, one empty, one half–empty. An orange prescription bottle lay tipped over, pills scattered across the floor.

Lucas’s stomach turned. “Dad…”

The office door was half–open. Light spilled onto the carpet. Lucas pushed it wider, stomach sinking with every step.

Marco slumped in his chair, head back, skin pale. Mouth open slightly. Whiskey bottle beside him. Pills scattered around him.

“Dad!” Ria screamed, rushing forward. “Wake up!”

No response. Head lolled to the side. Breathing shallow. Too shallow.

“Is he alive?” Monica asked, frozen in the doorway. Hands shaking. Fear in every inch of her body.

Lucas pushed past Ria, pressing his fingers against his father’s neck. Pulse weak but there. Barely. “He’s alive. But he took pills… a lot. With whiskey.”

Ria’s hands shook as she grabbed a glass of water. “What do we do?”

“Splash it on his face. Try to wake him.”

The cold water hit Marco’s face. He groaned. Eyes fluttered.

“Again,” Lucas said. “Get more water.”

Monica draped a blanket over him, heavy and warm. Ria ran back for more water. Lucas stayed at Marco’s side, shaking him, patting him, whispering, keeping him tethered to consciousness.

Hours, or maybe minutes, passed. Time blurred. Splash. Walk. Pat. Shake. Back and forth. Slowly, his eyes stayed open. Words came clearer. His immediate danger passed, but the weight of everything hung heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” Marco whispered eventually. Voice raw, hoarse. “I’m so sorry. For everything. For Margaret. For your mother. For all of it.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it,” Lucas said. Not cruel, just fact. “Sorry doesn’t bring Mom back. Doesn’t erase the lies. Doesn’t undo what we did.”

“I know,” Marco murmured. “I know nothing can make it right. I destroyed her. Destroyed us. Destroyed everything.”

Ria hugged her knees, staring at the floor. “Did you really say those things about Mom? That she was boring? That being with her was slow death?”

Marco’s silence answered.

“She loved you,” Monica whispered. “Seventeen years. She loved you. And you said that?”

“I lied to myself,” Marco admitted. “Justifying what I wanted… what I’d already decided. Margaret made me feel young again. Alive. Excited. And I convinced myself… that Lucia was the problem. But I was the problem. Selfish. Bored. Wanting more when I already had everything.”

“And now you have nothing,” Lucas said, voice quiet but cutting. “Margaret will leave. The company is failing. Mom’s gone. And we… we are all that is left. And we don’t even know if we can forgive you.”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Marco said. “I just wanted you to know. I am sorry. So sorry.”

The siblings exchanged glances, silent understanding passing between them. Scared, angry, confused. But alive. And so was their father.

“We need Mom,” Ria said suddenly, voice strong despite tears. “We need her now. We need her back.”

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Chapter 47

Lucas nodded slowly. “She is with Alexander Kane. She has a new life. Why would she want us after everything?”

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