A Wedding Offer that Made my Ex Husband Crawled Back

I didn’t know what to expect when I returned to the Villarez estate. But I didn’t expect… this.

The house was buzzing with movement—renovation workers hammering, painting, rearranging furniture. The hallway smelled of paint and sawdust, and boxes littered the entrance. My boxes.

My belongings. Thrown out like garbage.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my voice stiff, already knowing I wouldn’t like the answer.

Treston appeared at the top of the stairs, sleeves rolled up like he was playing the role of a father settling into a domestic life.

“We’re converting your room,” he said plainly. “Joshua needs space. He and Summer are moving in here—for now.”

My heart clenched. “You’re—what?”

“And honestly,” he continued, descending the steps slowly, “this is all your fault anyway. You hurt Joshua. So, the least you can do is make space for him. Make it up to him and be thankful that Summer didn’t file a case for you after hurting Joshua.”

I wanted to scream, argue, throw everything back in his smug face. But I didn’t. I just stood there, absorbing the latest blow like a silent sponge. I wouldn’t let him see me break anymoret.

“I need you to sign something,” I said instead, pulling out a folder and handing it to him.

He raised a brow. “Can’t it wait? I don’t handle work inside this house.”

“It’s for the investment meeting tomorrow,” I said calmly. “It’s urgent.”

He scoffed and flipped the folder open carelessly, not even bothering to check the contents. “You better make sure everything goes as planned,” he said as he scribbled his signature. “Or else, I swear I’ll stop your father’s medication altogether.”

I didn’t respond.

What he didn’t know was that my father was already being transferred to another hospital under Niccolo’s name—and soon, he’d be out of Treston’s grasp for good.

Just then, Summer’s voice rang out from the kitchen as she came in holding grocery bags. “Babe, oh, I mean, Treston, I got everything! I even bought Joshua’s favorite snacks and yours too!”

Treston’s eyes shifted back to me. “Cook for us. And for Joshua.”

I blinked. “I still have to prepare the reports. You said it’s urgent—”

“I don’t care,” he snapped. “I’m telling you to cook. And be nice to Joshua. You owe him. You’ll be his nanny now. That’s your role in this house.”

It wasn’t a house anymore. It was a prison. One he built out of betrayal and kept decorating with my suffering.

Still, I went to the kitchen, dragging my steps as I began washing vegetables, chopping silently.

That’s when I felt it.

A sting. Salt thrown across my face, into my eyes, burning.

“Be gone!” Joshua screamed from behind me. “You don’t deserve to be here! You bitch!”

I stumbled back, gasping, blinking through the salt.

“Joshua!” I snapped, more in shock than anger.

But then I heard laughter.

Summer. Leaning against the counter with that wicked smile of hers.

“See?” she said sweetly. “Even our child doesn’t want you around. So… when will you finally leave?”

I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I just wiped my face and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon. You’ll never have to see me again.”

“Great,” she chirped. “Oh, by the way… I went ahead and donated the rest of your stuff. Honestly, I couldn’t stand it taking up space in our home. Most of it’s already burned.”

There was no more pretending now. No fake sympathy. No passive-aggressive smiles. For the first time, Summer didn’t even try to hide it.

She admitted it. Bluntly. Proudly.

And all I could do was stare.

I remembered how, not too long ago, I used to call her late at night, crying over Treston’s distance, his coldness. And she would listen. Tell me he was probably just stressed. That men in business were complicated.

I told her everything. Trusted her.

I remembered pouring my heart out while she sat beside me, offering comforting words… all while she was already stealing him from me.

Maybe it was my fault. Maybe it started the moment I let her into our lives—into his business. I thought I was helping her when I convinced Treston to give her a consulting job. I said she was smart, capable, loyal.

And she had thanked me. With betrayal.

I stiffened. “My things?”

She nodded, unfazed. “Yep. You can go check, if you want. Might still catch the flames.”

I ran. Out the back door, into the open yard where smoke curled from a large metal bin. I choked back a cry as I stepped closer.

My clothes. My journals. My framed photographs. Gone.

And there, at the center of it all—charred and broken—was the heirloom necklace my mother gave me before she died. Its clasp half-melted, the sapphire center shattered into glittering dust.

I dropped to my knees.

That necklace was the last piece of her I had. The last thing that smelled like her perfume. Felt like her love.

And Summer had destroyed it without a second thought.

I stood slowly, my breath ragged.

And I walked.

Straight back into the house. Summer was there, laughing at something Treston had said.

She turned to me with her perfect, mocking smile.

But before she could speak—

I slapped her.