My Coldhearted Ex demands a Remarriage by Eva Blackwood

Chapter 266 The night stretched on, its silence broken only by the soft glow of the moon, casting intricate

shadows across the room.

Elizabeth stirred, her eyes fluttering open to find the bed empty.

Elijah was gone.

She hadnt expected him to stay anyway.

She stretched, her body languid after hours of undisturbed rest.

Her fingers reached for her phone on the nightstand, and the screen illuminated her faceit was already past

eleven.

A small yawn escaped her lips as she swung her legs off the bed, the carpets plush fibers cushioning her bare

feet.

She reached for her robe, slipping it on with a practiced ease, and made her way to the door.

The hallway greeted her with silence, save for the faint tap of her steps on the hardwood floor.

Willow stood a few feet away, her attention fixed on the glow of her phone screen.

Her thumbs moved swiftly, typing out a message.

Elizabeths brows knitted together.

Willow, what are you doing here? The question startled Willow, and she jerked her hand, nearly dropping the

device.

She turned, her face painted with a forced smile.

Oh, Mrs.

James, she stammered, tucking the phone into her apron pocket.

Its nothing.

My son just senta message.

| thought Id check if you needed anything.

267 Elizabeths eyes narrowed slightly but shifted focus.

What do we have to eat? she asked, her tone casual.

We had fresh prawns delivered today.

A hint of regret flashed across Willows face, as she had accidentally mentioned the prawns she planned to keep

for herself.

Prawns will do.

Bring them to my room when theyre ready, she instructed, her voice leaving no room for discussion.

Willows smile returned, though it barely reached her eyes.

Of course, Mrs.

James, she said, bowing her head slightly.

Elizabeth didnt respond, simply closing the door.

She wasnt one for unnecessary pleasantries, especially not with someone she instinctively distrusted.

The moment the door clicked shut, Willows polite facade crumbled.

She scowled at the door, her lips twisting into a sneer.

Arrogant snob, she muttered under her breath, her voice dripping with venom.

The warm steam from her shower clung to her skin, soothing away the fatigue of the day.

Wrapped in a soft robe, Elizabeth sat on the sofa and opened her laptop.

Out of curiosity, she checked Twitter.

The trending topics that had once centered on her nwere gone.

Elijah must have stepped in to clean up the mess.

Despite the absence of headlines, her notifications told a different story.

Angry fans filled her mentions, accusing her of exploiting Olivers fame.

Seven warned him to stay away from her, calling her manipulative.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her temples throbbing with frustration.

She closed thewith a sharp tap and turned her attention to Whatinstead.

To her surprise, her inbox was flooded.

Messages ranged from concerned inquiries about her disappearance to warm greetings for her safe return.

A rare smile softened her features as she scrolled through the texts.

The thought of so many people reaching out to her eased sof the tension in her chest.

Sorens message stood out among the rest.

You need to rest for a week before returning to set! it read.

Thats an order! If you cback early, Ill dock two hundred thousand from your contract! Her grin widened as

she replied with a broken-heart emoji.

Sorens concern was evident, though the mention of money stung a little.

After a few more exchanges, they agreed she would rest for three days, no more, no less.

Feeling a sense of calm, she pulled her laptop from her bag and opened the script shed been working on.

The collaboration was nearing completion, with only a few revisions left to finalize.

A knock at the door broke her concentration.

Mrs.

James, its ready, Willow called from outside.

Bring it in, Elizabeth said, setting her laptop aside.

The door creaked open, and Willow entered, carrying a tray.

She placed it gently on the table beside Elizabeth, her movements careful and precise.

| just made these, Mrs.

James, Willow said, stepping back to let Elizabeth inspect the meal.

The prawns glistened under the soft light, their aroma tantalizing.

Elizabeth picked one up, its flavor bursting across her tonguesweet, tender, and well-seasoned.

It tastes good, she said.

You can go.

Ill leave the tray by the door when Im done.

Willow nodded.

Understood, Mrs.

James, she replied, her voice smooth.

As she turned to leave, her eyes flickered toward the open laptop screen on the sofa.

Curiosity sparked, and she hesitated just long enough to pull her phone from her pocket.

With a swift, silent motion, she snapped a photo of the screen, her lips curling in satisfaction.

She slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

At Sandras home, the air was thick with tension.

Sandra sat on the sofa, her nails digging into the cushions as hatred burned in her chest.

Everything had been perfect.

Nate had made it easy to cover her tracksthe storm, the ropes that bound Elizabethbut she still survived.

Somehow, she always survived.

Elva moved around her, directing the maids with a sharp tone, but Sandra barely noticed.

The floor was a mess, with various expensive porcelain and crystal ornaments reduced to shards.

In that moment, Sandras phone buzzed.

It was a text message.

Irritation flickered in her eyes as she reached for her phone.

Opening the message and seeing the content, her eyes widened in shock and outrage.

The script she had paid for was actually written by Elizabeth?