Reclaimed By My Ex-husband Chapter 35: Who instructed you to do that?

Zara lay frozen, lips slightly parted, eyes locked on the ceiling, her mind reeling, her heart aching in a way she hadn’t expected.

She had wanted to stop him. She tried to stop him. But now that he was gone, the silence he left behind was louder than anything.

The pain in her leg throbbed dully, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache that carved into her chest.

He had been right there, touching her, wanting her. For a mont, she thought he really wanted her. But the mont reality caught up with him, the mont he realized she wasn’t Nora, he pulled away like she was nothing.

She felt abandoned, discarded, like sothing disposable.

Zara’s throat tightened, sha creeping through her like poison. A sense of betrayal twisted inside her.

Her hands gripped the bedspread tightly.

"In your heart, Nora is your wife," she whispered, the words bitter and broken. "The woman you love...But do you even know I’ve loved you all these years? Since school..."

Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes. The weight of a lifeti of one-sided love settled heavily in her chest.

Inside the bathroom...

Nathaniel filled the bathtub with cold water. He stripped down and stepped in, the icy water lapping up to his thighs. But it did nothing to cool the fire that still roared through his veins.

His jaw clenched as he lowered himself deeper into the tub, the cold biting against his skin. He leaned back, trying to still his thoughts, but his mind kept pulling him back to Zara, to the feel of her beneath him, to the sound of her voice. His body scread to return to her, to finish what he had started.

But he didn’t move.

She was injured. She needed rest. The last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

"Damn it," he muttered. "It’s hot."

With a hiss of frustration, he sank all the way under, letting the water swallow him. He held his breath as he closed his eyes, willing the fire in his body to drown.

When he finally broke the surface again, gasping for air, his senses were sharper than before. The edge of the heat had dulled. His heartbeat slowed. The madness that had nearly overtaken him began to lift.

Now that he regained his control over himself, his thoughts turned to the soup Mrs. Jules had served him.

"That soup...Sothing wasn’t right." His expression darkened. "Mrs. Jules... you’ve got so explaining to do."

Much later, once the fire had fully faded, Nathaniel stepped out of the bath. Water dripped from his hair, running down his bare chest. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the bathroom door.

He paused and looked at Zara, curled under the blanket, her back to him, still and silent. His chest tightened at the sight of her.

’Thank God I stopped,’ he thought.

Rubbing the water from his hair with a towel, he disappeared into the walk-in closet and re-erged monts later dressed in plain, dark pajamas.

He gently climbed onto the bed, careful not to make a sound. He lifted the edge of the blanket and slipped underneath it.

Zara wasn’t asleep. She lay stiffly, her body tense the mont she felt the mattress shift beside her. Every part of her was alert, his presence behind her like static against her skin.

He didn’t try to touch her, didn’t say a word. But that didn’t stop her thoughts from racing.

The mory of his lips on hers, the way his hands had moved over her body—it clung to her skin like heat that refused to fade. And then... he had left her, just like that, after igniting a fire inside her.

Her fingers curled into the pillow. Her jaw tightened.

’Asshole,’ she muttered under her breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning...

Zara stirred, her eyes blinking open. Instinctively, her hand reached across the bed.

Empty.

She frowned slightly. Strange.

For as long as she could rember, it was always she who woke first, cooked breakfast, prepped his schedule, and gently nudged Nathaniel awake when he stubbornly refused to get out of bed. But today, the space beside her was cold.

He was already up.

Puzzled, she reached for her phone on the nightstand and checked the ti.

Still early.

"Maybe he had another morning eting," she muttered to herself, rembering how Mrs. Jules ntioned he had a conference call the day before. That seed likely—Nathaniel never rested when work called.

She reached for her crutch, tucked it under her arm, and slowly eased herself out of bed. She made her way to the bathroom.

What she didn’t know was that on the other end of the villa, in the study, a very different kind of morning was unfolding.

Inside the study...

The air was tense with the weight of accusation and betrayal.

Nathaniel sat behind the desk, his eyes locked on Mrs. Jules with a glare so cold it could slice through steel. Mrs. Jules stood frozen, her hands folded tightly in front of her, head bowed, eyes fixed on the carpet.

"You’ve served this family for decades," Nathaniel began. "I’ve always respected you. Trusted you. But after last night, I’m questioning whether you deserve to stay here at all."

Mrs. Jules flinched. She had only wanted to help, to nd what was broken between Nathaniel and Zara. She never expected to be standing here, under his glare, being interrogated like this.

"You knew Zara was injured," Nathaniel went on. "You knew she needed rest. And yet... You drugged . Who told you to do it?"

Mrs. Jules’ lips quivered. Her knees felt weak. She couldn’t betray the person behind it. She had made a promise.

"I—it was my idea," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I thought... maybe it would help. That it might bring you two closer. I didn’t an any harm, sir. I’m sorry. Please forgive ."

But Nathaniel didn’t believe a word of it.

He knew her too well. Mrs. Jules wouldn’t risk doing sothing like that without soone else pulling the strings.

"I’ll forgive you," he said slowly, "but only if you tell the truth. Who instructed you to do that? Was it my mother? Or Grandma?"