The Ex-Wife He Can’t Have novel Chapter 14

"What happened, Connor? Did that woman yell at you?" one of Killian's friends asked, visibly outraged.

Connor nodded between sobs.

"This is unbelievable! Who gave her the right to yell at our Connor?"

"If she hadn't gotten pregnant, there's no way the Quincys would have ever let her through the door. She's been acting like Mrs. Quincy for a few years and suddenly forgot her place."

Killian's friends were boiling with righteous indignation, eagerly throwing insults at Jillian.

Crouched behind the car, Jillian slowly sank all the way to the ground.

Humiliation and rage crashed over her like a tidal wave, pulling her under.

What had she done wrong to deserve this? Why were they talking about her like this?

Why was the son she had raised single-handedly standing in front of Sylvia, pouring out his grievances about her?

Killian knew Jillian was hiding right there. He stared at the spot for a long time before coldly withdrawing his gaze.

His friends moved on to another topic, and the moment they were distracted, Jillian bolted back into the villa like a fugitive.

Once inside, she ran up to her bedroom and threw herself onto the mattress.

Images flashed relentlessly in her mind: Killian gazing tenderly at Sylvia, Connor crying to Sylvia about how unfair she was.

"Why didn't you get together earlier?"

"A certain manipulative woman beat her to the punch."

"I don't want her to be my mom anymore."

Their voices echoed endlessly in her ears.

Jillian hugged her head, a splitting migraine tearing through her skull as she desperately tried to push the sights and sounds away.

It was useless.

Eventually, exhaustion won, and she slipped into a fitful sleep.

After saying goodbye to his friends, Killian brought Connor inside.

"Where is Jillian?" Killian asked.

"She probably went to bed," Mrs. Zeller answered before taking Connor to wash up.

Killian headed upstairs. In the massive, dead-silent villa, his footsteps echoed sharply, like the steady beat of a drum marching closer and closer, finally stopping outside Jillian's door.

Killian hadn't set foot in her bedroom for a very long time—in fact, he rarely even came home these days.

The door creaked as he pushed it open.

Jillian sat down across from him. She noticed the deep furrow between his brows—there were visible herbs floating in his bowl.

Killian had strange eating habits.

He didn't mind the flavor of garlic and herbs, but he couldn't stand seeing the actual ingredients in his food.

Whenever she cooked, she would blend the garlic and herbs, strain the juice perfectly clear, and then add it to the dishes.

She had always been in charge of their meals. The kitchen staff simply didn't know their specific preferences.

"It was nothing. He misbehaved, so I scolded him a little," Jillian said.

"Connor is frail. I expect you to treat him better."

Jillian's mind buzzed with static, going completely blank.

Was she not treating her own son well enough?

"Every child makes mistakes. If I don't discipline him now, society will gladly do it for me later."

"The Quincy family will educate our own. We don't need you dictating how it's done."

With that, Killian completely lost his appetite. He tossed his spoon heavily into the bowl and pulled a napkin to wipe his mouth. "Mrs. Zeller, cut off her allowance for the next six months."