My Ex-Wife Wants Me Back

Dylan glanced at Hazel in a panic, his eyes rimmed red.

She immediately stepped in front of him like a protective shield. “It’s just a suit! Is that really necessary? He’s had a weak constitution since he was a child—”

“I said—take it off.” I shot a cold glance at the staff.

“Since when were outsiders allowed to wear something custom-made for me?”

The two sales assistants fumbled as they hurried to help Dylan remove the suit. He stumbled suddenly, pretending to lose his balance.

“Careful!” Hazel caught him and spun around to glare at me.

“Andrew!” she shrieked.

Dylan shook his head weakly. “It’s my fault, Hazel. I shouldn’t have...”

“Disinfect it. Three times,” I said with a look of disgust. “I don’t want a single trace of his scent on it.”

Dylan lowered his head and hurried away, his shoulders trembling.

Hazel shot me one last venomous glare before chasing after him.

That night, my assistant leaned in close, his voice gleeful with gossip.

“Young Master, guess what? That guy Dylan—you know, the one always faking sickness—got hit by a car today and broke two ribs!”

He gestured animatedly, unable to contain his excitement. “Tsk. Serves him right! Always hanging around Miss Hazel like some pitiful little puppy, knowing full well she’s supposed to be your fiancée. Absolutely disgusting.”

I swirled the whiskey in my glass, a cold smirk curling at my lips. “Who told you Hazel was my fiancée?”

My assistant blinked, stunned. The files in his hands nearly slipped.

“Y-Young Master, you mean...?”

“Call the wedding planner,” I said calmly, taking a slow sip. “Change the bride’s name to Eleanor.”

The assistant practically pumped his fist.

“Finally! That Hazel always pretends to be so proper and cultured, but she’s been glued to Dylan like they’re joined at the hip. Always playing the saintly victim—it’s revolting.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Even my assistant saw her clearly.

How did I let myself be so blind in the past?

Love really did make people blind.

I sighed quietly.

—

The next morning, just as I stepped out of the office building, darkness swallowed my vision—a burlap sack was yanked over my head.

“Who’s there?!” I struggled violently.

They shoved me into a van. My head slammed into the doorframe with a sickening thud. Pain exploded at the base of my skull.

Familiar fear flooded through me—the same terror I felt in my past life during the kidnapping.

“Name your price!” I panted, my shirt already drenched in cold sweat. “Whatever it is, I’ll pay!”

Silence.

Suddenly, I smelled the faint scent of magnolia perfume—Hazel’s favorite.

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach.

“You....” My voice cracked. “What the hell do you want?”

A deliberately distorted voice responded, “Someone paid me to teach you a lesson.”

Even though I’d already broken off the engagement, the betrayal still cut like a blade.

“Bang!”

A metal rod slammed into my calf. The searing pain made me bite through my own lip.

I curled into the corner of the van, shaking—but I said nothing. I didn’t expose her.

Right before I lost consciousness, I heard her cold, detached voice.

“Remember this lesson.”

The blunt strikes of the rod came again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times...

Fifteen hits in total. I could hear my bones splinter.

The pain dragged me into darkness.

When I came to, I was lying at the gates of the Jacobs estate.

The acrid scent of hospital disinfectant burned in my nose.

In the VIP room next door, I heard Dylan’s soft voice. “Hazel, you’ve been by my side every day. You must be exhausted.”

My chest twisted so hard I thought it might shatter.

Hazel—just to vent for Dylan, you were willing to go this far?!

“Son!” My father burst into the room, his voice trembling with rage.

“Who did this to you?! I’ll make sure they suffer worse than death!”