My Ex-Wife Will Regret Leaving Me

Chapter 007

"So you’re still trying to claim nothing happened just now? I truly can’t believe my eyes. My dear aunt, the one who always prided herself on being the bastion of virtue and the 'Virgin Mary' of the family—who knew you could be this scandalous?"

Eva White tilted her head, giving me a look thick with unspoken subtext before turning her razor-sharp wit back toward Kristinav Johnson. She was relentless, her eyes sparkling with the kind of mischief only a teenager possessed.

"Give me that phone! Give it back right now!"

Kristinav was fuming, her face a shade of crimson that rivaled a sunset. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the device back from Eva’s grip. The two women became a blurred tangle of limbs on the designer sofa—one fighting for her dignity, the other for a piece of leverage. It was a chaotic scene, far removed from the cold, sterile atmosphere I usually associated with the upper crust of the Riverwood Estates.

"Auntie, your figure is incredible, I’ll give you that," Eva teased as she dodged a swipe, "but your photography skills? Terrible. And oh my god, look at this pervert—he even managed to get his own face in the frame. What a disaster..."

After a frantic struggle that left the sofa cushions scattered across the floor, Kristinav finally reclaimed her phone. She didn't waste a second, her thumb flying across the screen as she systematically purged every digital trace of our encounter. She was muttering under her breath, a string of curses directed entirely at me, while I just sat there, leaning back against the cool wall.

"Alright, Auntie," Eva said, finally settling down but keeping a playful smirk firmly in place. "Now that the evidence is 'gone,' why don't you tell me the truth? How long have you and this guy been hooked up?"

It was only then, as the dust settled, that I truly realized who this girl was. Eva White. She was the daughter of the wealthy businessman my ex-wife, Emma Hopkins, had managed to ensnare—the product of his first marriage. The irony was almost too much to bear. The girl kept prodding, her questions sharp and invasive. With the "ironclad evidence" having been seen by her own eyes, there was no point in denial. I felt a strange lack of pressure; the secret was out, and I was curiously eager to see how this drama would unfold.

Kristinav reached out and sharply pinched Eva’s ear, earning a theatrical yelp. "How many times do I have to tell you? Stop calling me 'Aunt' in front of other people! I’m only a few years older than you. You’re making me sound like an old hag."

"Fine, fine! Should I call you 'Sister' instead?" Eva rubbed her ear, her face splitting into a cheeky grin. In an instant, the sobbing mess who had burst through the door was gone, replaced by a rebellious, street-smart teenager.

"Never mind me," Kristinav said, her voice dropping back into a more serious tone. "What was all that crying about just now? You looked like your world had ended."

Remembering my manners—or perhaps just trying to find a way to be useful—I quickly offered a fresh tissue to the girl.

"Thanks..." Eva murmured. As she turned back to Kristinav, her bravado flickered and died. Her eyes welled up again, the grief returning like a tide. "It’s that fox again. She’s been whispering in my father’s ear all day, telling him I’m out running with a 'bad crowd' and 'low-life thugs.' Now he won’t even look at me. All he does is yell and lecture. He even threatened to freeze my credit cards this morning! It’s too much, Kristinav. She’s trying to suffocate me."

The girl spoke with a venomous intensity, her teeth gritted as she described the "fox" in her house. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was talking about. Sure enough, Kristinav cut a glance toward me, her expression a mix of sympathy for her niece and a jab at my past.

"You see?" Kristinav said to me, her voice laced with irony. "Look at the kind of person you were involved with. Your ex-wife is a professional homewrecker. She’s managed to throw our entire family into a state of total chaos."

Being called out like that made me want to vanish into the floorboards. The shame was a heavy, physical weight in my chest. "Wait a minute," I stammered, trying to find some ground to stand on. "I’m just as much of a victim as you guys are, okay? That woman destroyed my life long before she found yours. If anything, we’re on the same side now. We’re a united front against a common enemy, aren't we?"

I don't know what possessed me to say something so bold, but to my surprise, Kristinav seemed to consider it. She nodded slowly, her anger giving way to a weary sort of logic.

"When you put it that way... you might actually be right," she mused. "We really are just a bunch of shipwrecks washed up on the same shore."

"What are you two talking about?" Eva interjected, her head swiveling between us. "Does Uncle... wait, no, does 'Brother-in-law' actually know the fox?"

"You little brat! If you say one more word like that, I’ll rip your mouth open!"

Kristinav lunged at Eva again, and the living room dissolved into another playful scuffle. In the heat of the moment, the silk towel Kristinav had been using as a makeshift shield slipped, falling to the floor in a heap of white fabric.

I froze. The morning light flooded the room, illuminating her bare skin—the porcelain curves, the delicate details of her anatomy. I couldn't look away. My eyes traveled over her body, noticing the faint bruises and red marks that were the undeniable map of our "battle" from the night before. I felt a surge of pride and a twinge of guilt, but mostly I was just captivated.

Eva, of course, noticed my staring and let out a wicked laugh, her eyes darting between us. "Looks like you two really went at it last night. Auntie—I mean, Sister—you’re practically covered in battle scars. Was it as good as it looks?"

Kristinav scrambled to gather the towel, her face burning with embarrassment. Before she could regain her composure, I decided to play along with the girl’s teasing. "It wasn't just last night," I chirped. "Right before you walked in this morning, we were actually—"

A plush throw pillow caught me square in the face, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"Shut up! Not another word!" Kristinav screamed. She looked like a ripened apple, her dignity completely shredded in front of her niece. She fumbled with the towel, wrapping herself so tightly she looked like a mummy.

"Wait, back up," Eva said, her playful mood suddenly shifting into sharp focus as she processed what I’d said earlier. "You’re saying... that fox in my house is your ex-wife?"

She pointed a finger directly at my nose, her jaw dropping. For a few seconds, she just stared at me as if I were a biological curiosity. Then, she reached for the TV remote on the coffee table and started swinging it at me.

"What kind of man are you?!" she shouted, punctuating each word with a plastic thud against my arm. "How could you marry a shameless, backstabbing snake like that? And if you did marry her, why didn't you keep her under lock and key? You let her out into the world to ruin other people's lives!"

I took the beating in silence, feeling like a punching bag for all of Emma Hopkins' sins.

"Enough, Eva! He’s a victim too, don't you see?" Kristinav finally stepped in, physically moving between us to shield me from the remote-wielding teenager.

"She's right," I said, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. "She dumped me. She ran off with another man the second she saw a bigger paycheck. I thought I could forget her, but the scars she left... they don't just go away. They’re like seeds that have been waiting to sprout."

We sat there in silence for a moment—the tricycle driver, the high-society teacher, and the rebellious heiress. It was an absurd alliance, brought together by the infidelity and greed of a single woman.

"We can't just let her get away with this," Kristinav said, her voice hard. "We need to find a way to deal with her, once and for all."

I nodded vigorously. "I’m in. We’ve all been burned by her. What’s the plan?"

"First, we have to get her out of our house," Eva snapped, her "bratty" persona giving way to something much colder. "If I weren't afraid of making my father’s heart condition worse, I’d have already hired some guys from the streets to 'take care' of her."

"Keep your 'street talk' to yourself, Eva," Kristinav scolded. "The last thing we need is you getting involved in something criminal. We have to be smarter than that."

I cleared my throat, feeling a sudden chill. "I don't know how tough your 'friends' are, Eva, but you need to understand something. Your stepmother’s lover—the man she’s actually with—is a guy named Brady Feyne. He’s a dangerous piece of work. He isn't some amateur; he’s a professional bottom-feeder."

The name felt like a piece of broken glass in my throat. I couldn't even bring myself to finish the sentence. The thought of Brady Feyne—the man who had lived off my hard work while sleeping in my bed—made my stomach churn with a familiar, nauseating bile.