Ex Begging for My Return: I Shine as a Billionaire Writer

I wiped the tears from my eyes as I drove, trying to keep my focus on the road. The car cruised along Bel Air Road and then turned down a tree-lined street, pulling up in front of a massive mansion. The music from the yard had faded, but the sound of laughter and shouting still echoed in the distance. I quickly wiped my face and rubbed my swollen eyes, taking a deep breath before walking through the grand white archway. A few people, clearly drunk, stumbled past, arms wrapped around each other, laughing. And then I saw him—the tall figure I was looking for. Myles was standing by the poolside bar, wearing nothing but blue Hawaiian shorts and a loose sleeveless T-shirt, talking to someone. I hurried over to him, but before I could get close, a hand grabbed my arm. "Evelyn, what are you doing here?" I turned to see Isabella Clark, Myles' sister. She was slightly plump, dressed in an outfit that left little to the imagination. "Myles never said you'd be here. Today's supposed to be special for him and Abby," she sneered, but then her expression changed when she realized something. "You're here to ruin the party, aren't you? You want to embarrass Myles in front of everyone?" Abby. That name again. Ever since this woman—who failed at modeling in Europe—came back to LA a month ago, Myles had been impossible to reach. It was like trying to catch smoke with my hands. The last bit of hope I'd clung to for my marriage had died completely in my heart over the last month. I tried to block the thoughts and told myself one last time, 'Give him one last chance. If he comes home tonight and hugs Summer, I can wait a little longer.' But deep down, I knew I was fooling myself. What was I waiting for? A man who had never cared about me or our daughter? I wiped my palms on my clothes, trying to calm the nervous sweat. "I'm not here to ruin anyone's party," I said, my voice cold. "I need to talk to him. And you might want to switch to waterproof lipstick next time. Your lips look like a clown's." I heard Isabella screech behind me as I pushed past her. Finally, I reached Myles. "Myles!" He didn't hear me at first. He was too busy laughing with some guy in an orange beach shirt. "Myles!" I raised my voice, and he turned, his smile fading when he saw me. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone flat. "Today's Summer's birthday. She—" He cut me off, his voice sharp. "I told you, I don't have time for this." A sharp pain twisted in my chest. 'You don't have time for your daughter's birthday, but you have time for a party?' "Her birthday's only once a year. I just want you to show her you care," I said, barely holding it together. "I don't love her. You know that. Are you expecting me to lie to her face?" His gaze was filled with disdain. "Please, Myles," I begged, my voice low so no one else could hear how desperate I sounded. "Just tonight. Just this one time. Can you do this for her? She really wants to see you." "I'm not a liar," he said coldly, without any hint of regret. "Myles, please." I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. At that moment, a beautiful woman in a pink swimsuit walked up to the pool. She was tall, athletic, and carried herself like she owned the world. Myles quickly pulled away from me as she slid her arm around his neck, holding a cocktail in the other hand. "You have guests, Myles?" she purred. She saw me but pretended not to recognize me. "Oh, Evelyn, it's you!" she said, feigning surprise. "I didn't recognize you." Abby Shaver. She was gorgeous in that supermodel kind of way—long legs, perfect features, the whole package. And she had once been Myles' girlfriend. "She gave me a once-over, dismissing me with a look that screamed, "You don't belong here." "Are you here for the party?" she asked, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. "But... what's with that outfit?" I glanced down at my gray sweats. Great. I probably looked like I belonged in a laundromat, not a mansion. I scoffed, trying to keep my cool. "Doesn't matter what I wear. I'm Mrs. Clark. You're just one of his many flings." Her eyes narrowed. She leaned in closer to Myles, putting on a show for me, pressing herself into his chest. Myles patted her back, playing along. Ewww... That was when Isabella, now looking for any reason to pick a fight, stormed over. "She's a b***h! Myles, she's trying to ruin the party! And who cares about being some stupid Mrs. Clark? Everyone knows who the real hostess is here. It's Abby, not you." I literally saw Abby raise her brows, a smirk curling on her lips. Meanwhile, Isabella continued, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, "And by the way, does this mansion belong to you? You don't even know the gate code. None of the staff here even recognize you!" Myles looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole, clearly uncomfortable. But he didn't do anything to stop them. I gritted my teeth, feeling my hands ball into fists. These two women, who used to despise each other, had teamed up to take me down. But I didn't have time for this. I turned my eyes to Myles, my voice barely a whisper. "Myles, I'm waiting for your decision. I need you." I prayed silently. 'Please, come home with me.' Myles looked at me briefly and then downed the cocktail Abby had handed him. He licked his lips slowly, his eyes flicking over to me with a hint of something—amusement, maybe? Then he turned to Abby, leaning in to kiss her. She responded with equal passion, wrapping herself around him like a vine. Isabella shot me a smug look, as if saying, "See? Myles already gave you your answer, Ms. Failure." My heart burned with anger. I grabbed Myles' arm, yanking him around. He stumbled back and glared at me. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he snapped. "Are you crazy?" "Crazy? Am I?" I shouted. "You're messing around with another woman right in front of me, your wife, but sure, I am the crazy one!" He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "Who the hell are you to lecture me? Do you even remember how you became my wife?" He took a step closer, and I instinctively took two steps back. He came even closer, lowering his voice. "From that night of s*x, it's all been your trap. And that kid? You're just using her to manipulate me." My mind spun, but I held my ground. "That's not true. You came onto me that night. Don't you remember?" He shrugged like it was no big deal. "How could I? I was drunk. Are you saying every guy who gets drunk and sleeps with you gets to be your husband?" My blood boiled. "Bastard!" I screamed and tried to slap him. He grabbed my wrist and shoved me back, hard. I staggered and fell to the ground. Behind me, Isabella laughed that awful, mocking laugh. The sound of retreating footsteps faded as they walked away, leaving me on the floor. I wiped the tears off my face and checked my watch—it was midnight. I had failed to keep my promise to Summer.