Winning Back His Ex's Wife's Broken Heart by Hayley

Chapter 116 Sarah's POV The next morning, I sat in my car outside the house, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

The warmth of the sun streaming through the windshield felt out of place-mocking, almost. It was a new day, but the heaviness in my chest remained the same.

I had gone to sleep in a hotel the previous night, you don't expectto sleep in the shouse as the guy who doesn't believe me, right? Of course, he had tried calling me, and messaging me. I had sent a message to not search forand switched off my phone.

You're pregnant. The doctor's words echoed in my mind, and for a moment, I felt a flutter of joy.

A baby. Richard's baby. But then the doubts and fears crushing in. Could I bring a child into this mess? Into a hwhere I wasn't even sure of my place anymore? I sighed, finally pulling myself out of the car. I had to face it. The house. Richard. Isabelle. All of it.

The smell of fresh coffee hitas I opened the door, and for a split second, it felt like a normal morning.

I wanted to hold onto that illusion, to pretend everything was fine. But then I saw Richard at the dining table, his head buried in his hands.

He looked up when he heard the door shut. "Sarah." There was relief in his voice, but I wasn't ready to meet him halfway. Not yet. I dropped my bag by the door and crossed my arms. "Morning." "You switched off your phone," he said, his tone soft, almost hesitant. "I didn't know where you were. I was worried." I scoffed. "Were you? You seemed pretty comfortable last night." Richard frowned, the confusion on his face genuine. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Isabelle," I snapped. "Wearing your shirt. Laughing with you. Acting like she owns this place." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sarah, it wasn't what it looked like. She didn't have anything to wear-" "And you thought giving her your clothes was the best solution?" My voice rose, and I hated how shaky it sounded.

"Can we not do this right now?" he said, standing up. "I don't want to fight." "Well, maybe you should've thought about that before letting her walk all over us!" I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth, but the anger bubbling inside wouldn't letback down. Richard's face hardened. "She's not walking all over us. She's just... going through a rough time." I laughed bitterly. "Right. A rough time. That's why she's inserting herself into every corner of our lives.

Why is she constantly around you? Open your eyes, Richard! She's obsessed with you!" He opened his mouth to respond, but a voice from the hallway cut through the tension.

"Is that really what you think of me, Sarah?" Isabelle stood there, her arms crossed, her face a mask of hurt.

My stomach churned. Of course, she'd overheard. She always managed to show up at the worst possible moment.

"This is betweenand Richard," I said, my voice cold. "Stay out of it." "I can't do that," Isabelle said softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Not when you're accusingof something so horrible." She looked at Richard, her bottom lip trembling. "I don't understand why she hatesso much." Richard looked torn, glancing between us. "Sarah, don't-" "Don't what?" I snapped. "Tell the truth?" "You don't even know me," Isabelle said, her voice barely above a whisper. "All I've ever tried to do is help. To be part of this family." "Family?" I repeated, my voice sharp. "You're not family. You're a stranger we let into our home. And now you're trying to take over." "Stop it, Sarah," Richard said, his tone firm.

I turned to him, my chest tightening. "You're defending her? Again?" "I'm trying to keep the peace," he said. "This is our home. I don't want it to beca battleground." "It already is," I muttered, grabbing my bag and heading toward the stairs. "And you're too blind to see who's pulling the strings." *** Upstairs, I collapsed onto the bed, tears streaming down my face. I felt like I was drowning, and no one was throwinga lifeline. Not Richard. Not anyone.

I reached for my phone and opened the chat with Zara. She was halfway across the world, managing my company in Mexico, but I needed her now more than ever. Me: I can't do this anymore. Everything's falling apart. Her reply calmost instantly. *Zara*: What happened? Telleverything.

I poured my heart out in a series of frantic messages, detailing everything-Isabelle's behavior, Richard's indifference. By the tI hit send, my hands were shaking. Her response was exactly what I needed. Zara: That woman sounds like a nightmare. But you're stronger than this, Sarah. Don't let her win. I'm coming. Me: You don't have to do that.

Zara: Too late. I'm booking my flight now.

For the first tin days, I smiled. Zara's fiery determination was exactly what I needed.

But smiling didn't solve anything. Isabelle was still here, and I couldn't just sit back and let her tear my life apart. I had to do something.

I opened my laptop and started digging. Isabelle had told us so little about her past, but there had to be something. People didn't just appear out of nowhere.

The photo from yesterday cto mind-the one of her and her father. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was important.

Typing her ninto the search bar, I scoured social media and news articles, looking for any scrap of information.

Most of it was harmless-school photos, a few tagged posts from years ago. But then I found it.

I started with her social media, scrolling through years of photos. were Most were harmless, but the deeper I went, the more unsettling things became.

There were dozens of pictures of a man who looked eerily familiar. Sbroad shoulders. Spiercing eyes. Ssharp jawline. I leaned closer, my heart pounding. He looked like Richard.

Clicking on one of the photos, I read the caption: Forever mine. Always yours. RIP, David.

My stomach churned. David. Isabelle's fiance.

I opened another tab and searched for his name. Within minutes, I found an article.

"LOCAL TRAGEDY: ENGAGED COUPLE INVOLVED IN FATAL ACCIDENT."

The photo showed Isabelle and David, smiling and carefree. The article detailed how they'd beenm driving late one night when their car skidded off the road. David had died instantly. Isabelle had survived. I sat back, my hands shaking. It all made sense now. Isabelle wasn't just infatuated with Richard. She was obsessed because he looked like the man she'd lost.

A chill ran down my spine.

She's obsessed with him because he looks like her dead fiance.

It all made sense now-the way she clung to him, the way she inserted herself into our lives.

But what was I supposed to do with this information? How could I convince Richard when he couldn't even see the obvious? I closed the laptop and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. My hand rested instinctively on my stomach.