Seven Years As His Wife… Until My Own Son Called Me A Homewrecker Chapter 13

Seven Years As His Wife… Until My Own Son Called Me A Homewrecker Chapter 13

What Adrian did not know was that I would never go back.

I had planned to leave Norland that day, but a former neighbor called while I was waiting to board. A developer wanted to buy the old house I had inherited in my hometown, and she wondered whether I was interested in selling.

I agreed without hesitation.

One phone call transformed me from a woman who could barely afford a plane ticket into someone with enough money to begin again.

After considering several places, I chose Riverton, a steep, river-cut city I had seen only in travel ads.

To keep Adrian from tracing me, I avoided airports. I hired a private driver and paid in cash to cross the border, then continued by ferries and bus, stopping to explore along the way. Ten days later, I reached Riverton.

It was October, but the air was still warm enough to make me sweat. The leasing agent claimed my apartment was only two hundred yards from the street. What she failed to mention was the maze of staircases climbing through the hillside.

By the time we reached the building, I was too tired to keep looking. The windows faced the river and caught the afternoon sun, so I signed the lease on the spot.

My new life began quietly.

The people in the building were warm and direct. On my second day, neighbors appeared with more food.

than I could eat.

The woman across the hall owned a small diner nearby. She leaned against my doorframe with a paper cup of coffee and studied me openly.

“You’re not from around here, are you? Pretty thing like you must have someone. If not, I have a nephew about your age. He’s picky, but you might be just his type.”

I laughed. “My son is almost seven.”

Her eyes widened. “No way. You look twenty-two.”

“I’m nearly thirty. I guess I got lucky.”

“So what are you planning to do here?”

Her curiosity did not bother me. It felt honest and alive, unlike the Blackwood world where everyone wore a polished mask. For seven years, I had done the same. I had never lived as myself, and perhaps I had never truly known Adrian either.

The days slipped by as I settled into my new life in Riverton

I used part of the money from the house to open a small coffee shop near a university. The drinks were

affordable, and business was brisk from the first day.

I hired a college student named Ryan Cole to help part-time. He could make coffee, carry deliveries, and

charm half the women on campus without trying.

Customers often slipped me notes. Unfortunately, they were always asking for Ryan’s number.

His admirers occasionally caused trouble. Groups of girls from a nearby vocational high school crowded the shop, drove away customers, and treated me like competition.

I ignored most of it. Then one afternoon, a girl with dyed hair arrived with friends and baseball bats.

They smashed cups and overturned tables.

“You shameless old woman,” the girl shouted, leveling the bat at my face. “Stay away from Ryan. We’ll teach

you what happens when you don’t.”

“Ryan is my employee,” I said. “And I have a seven-year-old son.”

“As if! No one would ever marry an old hag like you.”

She swung at my head.

I moved to dodge, but a familiar arm pulled me into an equally familiar chest. A small figure stepped in front

of me and spread his arms.

“Don’t hurt my mom!” Noah shouted. “Get out!”

I had once been obsessed with Adrian’s cologne. Later, I realized countless men wore the same scent. I

smelled it on crowded streets and had even noticed it on Ryan once.

There was nothing unique about the fragrance.

There was nothing irreplaceable about Adrian either.

Seeing him again stirred only the faintest ripple in me, nothing like the storm he once inspired.

I stepped out of his embrace and frowned.

“Why are you here?”