Falling For My Ex Husband Again

Baron's voice thundered through the mansion, each word striking like a whip. "I said WE ARE DONE! Have you gone deaf?!" His glare was cold and unforgiving, his red-rimmed eyes betraying neither regret nor doubt. The intensity of his anger sent a chill down Isabel's spine, leaving her frozen in place. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, blurring her vision as she stood helpless in the face of his rage.

She couldn't understand how everything had spiraled so quickly. She loved him deeply, believing they shared more than just the life they had built together-the home, the memories, and their two beautiful children. But now, in the span of a few cruel words, all of it seemed to crumble.

"But... I thought..." Isabel's voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Baron rolled his eyes in irritation, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Isabel recognized that look; it was the expression he wore whenever he tried to rein in his temper. Over the years, she had learned to read him-his habits, his tells-but this time, his cold detachment was unrecognizable.

"Baron, we've had a good life together," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. "All these years-"

"Yes, we did. But that's in the past," he cut her off, his tone sharp and unyielding. "I want you out!"

The words were like a knife plunging into her chest. Isabel staggered, struggling to process what she had just heard. "You can't just throw me out! I'm your wife, Baron!" she said, her voice breaking under the weight of her disbelief and anguish.

He laughed, a cold, mocking sound that echoed in the room. "I made you my wife," he sneered. "I helped you become who you are today. Before me, nobody even knew your name. Nobody cared about you."

Isabel inhaled sharply, trying to choke back the tears threatening to consume her. "You're cruel," she said softly, her voice barely steady.

Baron's expression hardened, his cold gaze piercing through her. "Why, Baron?" she asked, desperate for answers. "Why are you doing this now? What has changed?"

He shrugged, his indifference stinging more than any harsh words could. "Because this was never meant to last," he said flatly. "I was foolish to think it could."

Isabel opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with an impatient wave of his hand. "I'm done, Isabel. Just pack your things and leave. I don't want a gold digger living in my house anymore."

His words hit her like a thunderclap, and her breath caught in her throat. For years, she had endured the whispers and side-eyes from his family and friends, the constant judgment of her background. But she had believed Baron loved her for who she was. Had she been fooling herself all along?

"You want me to leave?" she asked, her voice eerily calm.

"Did I mumble?" Baron snapped, his tone dripping with condescension.

Isabel nodded slowly, her mind racing to make sense of the betrayal. "Fine," she said, her voice steady despite the storm brewing inside her. "But if I go, you'll never see me or the children again."

Baron's lips curled into a cold smile. "Oh, I will see you," he said with chilling certainty. "Because you'll be leaving without them."

A wave of rage surged through Isabel, and her hands trembled as she clenched her fists. "Did you forget something, Baron? Those kids are mine just as much as they're yours!"

Her voice quivered with a mix of fury and heartbreak, the thought of losing her children filling her with dread. She searched Baron's face for even a flicker of kindness or regret, but all she saw was a stranger wearing the face of the man she once loved.

Baron chuckled, his laughter cold and devoid of warmth. "And how do you plan to take care of them, Isabel?" he taunted. "You have nothing. No money, no job, no home. I will not let my kids live in poverty."

He stepped closer, his face inches from hers, his smug smile cutting deeper than any words. "Besides," he added, his voice laced with malice, "Brenda is back now. She'll take care of them."

The name hit Isabel like a lightning bolt. Brenda. The woman who had abandoned Baron years ago for a wealthier man, leaving him shattered and bitter. She had been the wound Isabel worked so hard to heal. And now, she is back.

"This is all because of her?" Isabel's voice wavered as fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

Baron didn't respond, his silence confirming her worst fears.

"ANSWER ME!" she screamed, her voice rising with anger and anguish.

He nodded, the motion slow and deliberate. "You knew I always loved her," he said simply, his tone devoid of emotion.

The words shattered her, each syllable cutting her heart into pieces. She had given Baron everything-her love, her trust, her life-and now she realized it had all been a lie. She had been nothing more than a placeholder, a consolation prize until Annabelle decided to return.

Isabel tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a choked sob. "Of course," she said bitterly. "I was just a stand-in until she came back."

Her legs gave out, and she sank to the cold marble floor, her body trembling with the weight of her despair.

"I'll leave," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But I'll come back for my kids."

Baron's derisive scoff echoed in her ears. "Good luck with that," he said before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing as he ascended the staircase.

Isabel remained on the floor, her tears pooling beneath her as the reality of her situation settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She had no job, no home, and nowhere to go. But as she sat there, the spark of determination ignited within her. She couldn't let Baron win. She couldn't let him take her children away from her.

For their sake, she would fight. She would find a way to rebuild her life, no matter how broken she felt in that moment. She would come back stronger, not for herself, but for the two little lives that meant more to her than anything in the world.

The mansion, once a place of love and laughter, now felt cold and empty as Isabel slowly rose to her feet. Wiping away her tears, she took a deep breath. This wasn't the end of her story. It was only the beginning.