After the Last Tear: Rising from the Ashes of a Broken Marriage
Chapter 22

The latest Manhattan gossip was all about a shocking transformation: notorious playboy and CEO Alistair Chase had suddenly gone cold turkey on his

womanizing ways.

Every mistress-including his pregnant girlfriend-had been kicked to the curb as he launched an all-out campaign to win back his ex-wife.

"Wait, they actually got divorced? I totally missed that memo. Last I saw, he was following her around insisting they were still married..."

"Oh honey, it's been official for months. He's just in denial and still introduces himself as her husband."

Some people at the corner table kept dishing, completely oblivious that the star of their bitchfest was sitting just a few tables away.

Elaine sipped her latte, genuinely puzzled by the whole situation. Why was Alistair, who could barely be bothered to look at her during their marriage, now blowing up her phone and ambushing her at every turn?

"Seriously, what's your endgame here?" Elaine asked, staring across the table at Alistair's stubborn face.

She'd shut him down at least a dozen times. Beyond all the ways he'd hurt her, she couldn't buy that a man who'd spent years obsessed with his dead girlfriend had magically fallen for her overnight.

She'd already put all her chips on that table once and walked away broke. No way was she making that bet again.

"Just tell me what I need to do to make this right," he pleaded. "I just want another shot with you-"

"Not happening," Elaine cut him off. "Best case scenario? We pretend we don't know each other next time we bump into each other."

Having said her piece, she grabbed her purse to leave. Seeing him ready to follow her yet again, she briefly fantasized about moving to another city.

But Faerwyn Industries had deep roots in New York. She couldn't bail on her father's legacy now, especially after weeks of non-stop meetings to get the company back on solid ground. Her personal drama couldn't torpedo all that work.

She sighed as his hand caught her wrist. His eyes were practically begging. "Please," he said quietly. "I know I've been the world's biggest jerk. Hate me, scream at me, whatever you need-just don't walk away."

Looking at his desperate face, she felt... absolutely nothing.

If her dad were still alive, if this had happened before the whole Vivian disaster, maybe this version of Alistair might have gotten to her. Maybe she would have caved.

But life doesn't work on maybes.

Her dad was gone forever. Everything that happened was permanently etched into reality.

Elaine would never forget the gut-punch when he said he wanted a baby that looked like Sophia. She couldn't erase the memory of tumbling down those stairs after he shoved her.

The sound of his cold voice on the phone still haunted her-how she'd begged him for blood to save her father, and his callous response: "Not happening. I won't risk the baby."

"It's done, Alistair," she said firmly. "You know there's way more between us than just those three years."

"You want me to forget everything? Tell me how I'm supposed to forget you telling me Sophia was the only woman you'd ever love. How do I forget you knocking up your girlfriend after promising you wouldn't? How do I forget you pushing me down a flight of stairs without even hearing my side? How exactly am I supposed to forget that my father died because of you?!"

Each word hit him like a physical blow. The color drained from his face as she spoke, until his grip on her wrist went slack and fell away completely.

He could only stand there, watching her walk away until she disappeared into the crowd.