When He Chose Her Over Justice, I Chose Revenge Over Love - Chapter 113: Chapter 113
You are reading When He Chose Her Over Justice, I Chose Revenge Over Love, Chapter 113: Chapter 113. Read more chapters of When He Chose Her Over Justice, I Chose Revenge Over Love.
Blake hadn't cracked the curtains since that day he dragged himself home with the housekeeper.
The floor looked like a war zone—pills everywhere, empty bottles, and a bunch of wedding photos he'd crumpled up before smoothing them out again.
Our wedding pics. Those smiles felt like a bad joke now.
She'd been planning her escape the whole damn time.
He covered his eyes with his hands. Fuck, he hated her.
Hated how she'd bolted without a backward glance. Hated that she wouldn't even give him one lousy chance to fix things.
But he hated himself more. Hated that he'd been so freaking blind.
His eyes locked onto the urn sitting on the table.
Wait. Something was off.
His breath caught as he glanced at the crystal bottle next to the urn.
The angle was wrong. Not how he'd left it.
Someone had definitely messed with it.
His heart skipped as the craziest thought hit him.
What if she wasn't dead at all?
The idea shot him to his feet. He bellowed for the housekeeper.
"Get this urn to forensics. Check for fingerprints inside. And find someone to check if what's in there is even real."
The rain down south just wouldn't quit. I sat on my guesthouse porch with a cat in my lap.
My "death" three months back? Perfect.
The blood pack I'd stashed beforehand, the coat I'd deliberately ditched.
Life without all that hate and pain felt weirdly chill.
"Miss Shred! Got a new guest checking in today!" the old lady hollered from downstairs.
By the time I got down, she was already shuffling papers at the front desk.
She was the biggest gossip in town. Since I'd hired her to help run this place, she'd made it her mission to dump every bit of town drama in my lap.
"He's some hot guy from the city. Gorgeous! Bet he's nursing a broken heart, trying to clear his head out here."
I smiled, not giving a crap.
"302's ready. Just hand him the key when he shows up."
"Evelyn?"
That voice cut through me like a knife.
I whipped around. Even with the light behind him, I'd know that outline anywhere.
Three years married to someone—you know their shape in the dark.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Evelyn, just give me five minutes."
I backed up. "You're not welcome here."
"I know I messed up."
I thought I'd toughened up enough, but his voice brought it all crashing back.
The veins popping on his hand while he choked me.
His dead eyes watching me lose our baby.
His smirk holding my mom's ashes.
"Get out."
Blake's face went white as a sheet.
"I've spent three months hunting every spot you might've run to. Harper, I can't function without you. I finally get it—your dad didn't kill my mom. Truth is, I've always owed you. If he hadn't tried saving my mom, your dad would still be breathing. But I just kept hurting you, over and over. I'm sorry. I want to stick around and make things right."
"How freaking sweet."
"You wanna know how I've spent these three months?"
I yanked my collar down, showing off the nasty scar below my collarbone.
"This is your parting gift. Remember? When Sophia had her goons pin me down at the studio? She said you gave her the green light. Said she'd spent all day in your bed. Said you wanted me destroyed. This is all YOUR fault. You think 'sorry' fixes that? You think feeling guilty heals my scars?"
"It's because of YOU—you let Sophia hurt me. If I hadn't miscarried, my mom wouldn't have killed herself to avoid being my burden. If it wasn't for you, my mom would still be here. You killed my dad, and you killed my mom too."
Blake stood there like he'd been tasered.
The floor looked like a war zone—pills everywhere, empty bottles, and a bunch of wedding photos he'd crumpled up before smoothing them out again.
Our wedding pics. Those smiles felt like a bad joke now.
She'd been planning her escape the whole damn time.
He covered his eyes with his hands. Fuck, he hated her.
Hated how she'd bolted without a backward glance. Hated that she wouldn't even give him one lousy chance to fix things.
But he hated himself more. Hated that he'd been so freaking blind.
His eyes locked onto the urn sitting on the table.
Wait. Something was off.
His breath caught as he glanced at the crystal bottle next to the urn.
The angle was wrong. Not how he'd left it.
Someone had definitely messed with it.
His heart skipped as the craziest thought hit him.
What if she wasn't dead at all?
The idea shot him to his feet. He bellowed for the housekeeper.
"Get this urn to forensics. Check for fingerprints inside. And find someone to check if what's in there is even real."
The rain down south just wouldn't quit. I sat on my guesthouse porch with a cat in my lap.
My "death" three months back? Perfect.
The blood pack I'd stashed beforehand, the coat I'd deliberately ditched.
Life without all that hate and pain felt weirdly chill.
"Miss Shred! Got a new guest checking in today!" the old lady hollered from downstairs.
By the time I got down, she was already shuffling papers at the front desk.
She was the biggest gossip in town. Since I'd hired her to help run this place, she'd made it her mission to dump every bit of town drama in my lap.
"He's some hot guy from the city. Gorgeous! Bet he's nursing a broken heart, trying to clear his head out here."
I smiled, not giving a crap.
"302's ready. Just hand him the key when he shows up."
"Evelyn?"
That voice cut through me like a knife.
I whipped around. Even with the light behind him, I'd know that outline anywhere.
Three years married to someone—you know their shape in the dark.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Evelyn, just give me five minutes."
I backed up. "You're not welcome here."
"I know I messed up."
I thought I'd toughened up enough, but his voice brought it all crashing back.
The veins popping on his hand while he choked me.
His dead eyes watching me lose our baby.
His smirk holding my mom's ashes.
"Get out."
Blake's face went white as a sheet.
"I've spent three months hunting every spot you might've run to. Harper, I can't function without you. I finally get it—your dad didn't kill my mom. Truth is, I've always owed you. If he hadn't tried saving my mom, your dad would still be breathing. But I just kept hurting you, over and over. I'm sorry. I want to stick around and make things right."
"How freaking sweet."
"You wanna know how I've spent these three months?"
I yanked my collar down, showing off the nasty scar below my collarbone.
"This is your parting gift. Remember? When Sophia had her goons pin me down at the studio? She said you gave her the green light. Said she'd spent all day in your bed. Said you wanted me destroyed. This is all YOUR fault. You think 'sorry' fixes that? You think feeling guilty heals my scars?"
"It's because of YOU—you let Sophia hurt me. If I hadn't miscarried, my mom wouldn't have killed herself to avoid being my burden. If it wasn't for you, my mom would still be here. You killed my dad, and you killed my mom too."
Blake stood there like he'd been tasered.
End of When He Chose Her Over Justice, I Chose Revenge Over Love Chapter 113. Continue reading Chapter 114 or return to When He Chose Her Over Justice, I Chose Revenge Over Love book page.