The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 397

Choosing Myself

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Choosing Myself

MARY’S POV:

Vesper sniffled loudly, her dark eyes swimming with fresh tears. A single, dramatic tear spilled over her eyelashes and tracked down her pale cheek, catching the harsh light of the room. “But those terrible people outside said such awful things about us,” she whimpered, pulling her chin down. “If this whole thing blows up on the news tomorrow, is it not going to ruin your company’s reputation?”

“I will take care of the press,” Alistair promised her in a quiet, smooth voice that was meant to settle her down. “Just stop crying right now. You are going to ruin your pretty face if you keep making that expression.”

Vesper shot him a tiny, playful glare from beneath her wet eyelashes and reached out to tug gently on his jacket sleeve. “I do not look ugly even when I am crying!”

The exchange was sickeningly familiar. It was flirting, plain and simple, full of the sort of easy, comfortable teasing that only exists between two people who have been intimately involved for a very long time. She pouted her lips up at him, her face turning into a dramatic little frown, while her fingers curled tightly into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket.

Then, as if suddenly remembering we were still standing there, she quickly added, “Oh goodness, Alistair, grab my handbag off the chair! I need to fix my face right now. What if those horrible people with the cameras managed to snap an ugly photo of me while I was weeping?”

There they went again.

It was the exact same routine they had been playing for months. It was a carefully rehearsed dance of fake weakness on her part and instant protection on his. She would put on a show of being a fragile. victim, and he would rush in like a hero to comfort her. She would pretend to be completely helpless, and he would fall for the trap every single time without fail.

I had been forced to watch this exact same performance play out for far too long. I had seen it happen in my own living room, right in my front driveway, and across dozens of nasty news articles and social media clips. I had watched this pathetic act destroy my marriage, tear my home apart, and completely crush my peace of mind. For months, I had watched my husband choose another woman over his own family again and again, stupidly telling myself that if I just stayed quiet and patient, he would eventually see through her games.

He was never going to see the truth.

And I was completely done waiting around for him to grow up.

Standing in this stinking hospital room for another second was nothing more than a complete waste of my life.

I pulled my hand back from Beatrice’s grip and stood up tall from the chair where I was sitting. The legs of my chair scraped loudly against the floor tiles, the sudden noise cutting sharply through their quiet conversation. I reached down and smoothed out the wrinkles in my skirt with slow, deliberate strokes. I

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picked up my heavy handbag from the side table, tucked it securely under my arm, and turned my body toward the open door.

“Wait a minute!”

Alistair’s voice barked out behind me, sharp and full of sudden panic. I heard the desperate edge in his tone, the tone of a man who realized he was rapidly losing control of the room. He had shouted that exact same word after me a hundred times before, always whenever I finally reached my limit and tried to walk away from his mess. His voice cracked slightly at the edges, his usual cool, professional tone completely falling apart.

“Where do you think you are going?” he demanded, taking a step toward me. “Are you really just going to walk out without asking me a single question about this?”

I turned around slowly to face him.

My face was completely calm, my eyes cold and expressionless. I had practiced keeping my face completely still in front of the mirror for weeks, perfecting the art of showing absolute indifference even when my insides felt like they were being torn apart. I looked him dead in the eye, holding his stare without a single flinch.

“I am going home to be with my daughter,” I said, my voice dropping into a flat, steady line. “Maybe you have completely forgotten because you are so busy, but the temporary nanny’s contract ends tomorrow morning at eight.”

I paused for a second, letting my words hang heavy in the air between us. I watched his face twitch slightly as a flash of real guilt crossed his eyes. He had been so entirely consumed with Vesper, her fake injuries, and her dramatic life that he had completely forgotten the basic, everyday details regarding his own child.

“So…” I looked right into his eyes, keeping my voice as cold as ice. “What exact questions do you think I should be asking you right now?”

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