Divorcing My Husband Over His Stepsister's Secret novel Chapter 297

Chapter 297

Anna’s POV:

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I drove toward Seaside Manor, the small pharmacy bag with hangover pills and burn cream sifting on the passenger seat beside me. The night air felt unusually heavy, or maybe it was just the weight of my thoughts pressing down on me.

Melissa’s panicked voice still echoed in my head. After talking her down from the edge, I learned she needed urgent documents from Blake’s home office for a morning meeting. With her busted leg and no access to the property, the job fell to me.

‘He seemed… off today,” she had explained hesitantly. “After you left, he canceled everything and disappeared. When I called the house, security said his car was there, but he wasn’t picking up.”

He’s probably drunk himself stupid, I thought. Part of me worried about him, while another part dreaded the awkwardness of seeing him again so soon.

My plan was simple: get in, grab the files from his office, and bail before he even knew I was there. If he was passed out somewhere, even better.

I parked near the side entrance and took a deep breath before stepping out.

With Melissa’s security code, I unlocked the door and slipped into the dimly lit foyer. I moved quietly, not wanting to wake Blake if he was out cold. The house felt different somehow–like I was trespassing in a place that used to be mine.

I turned toward the main living area, planning to cut through to Blake’s office, when I stopped dead in my tracks. Through the archway, I could see two figures bathed in moonlight streaming through the floor–to–ceiling windows.

My breath caught in my throat.

Claire was straddling Blake in the wooden rocking chair by the window. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her back to me, wearing the blue dress I’d knocked from Blake’s hands earlier today. Blake’s shirt was half–unbuttoned–the same one he’d worn during our encounter.

I couldn’t move. My body froze, my mind went blank. The scene before me was so intimate, so gut–wrenching that I could only stand there, watching my own humiliation unfold.

“Don’t leave,” Blake’s voice cut through my stupor, low and shaking. “Please don’t leave me again.”

I’d never heard him sound so broken, so vulnerable.

“The thought of you leaving again… I can’t even imagine it. I’m terrified. Just the idea nearly dragged me back into that darkness.”

His voice cracked. ‘It’s so dark, so fucking dark. I’m afraid of living without hope, afraid I’ll never see you again…”

Claire’s soft voice floated through the room. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’m right here. I’ll stay with you…”

‘Seaside Manor is so lonely without you,” he continued, his voice thick with pain. “How could you be so cruel, leaving me here alone with nothing but memories of what we once had? Leaving me to struggle by myself?”

Each word was a knife in my chest.

“Stay with me,” he begged, his voice urgent. “I’ll be good to you for the rest of my life, okay? Please, okay?”

Claire’s POV:

I felt Anna’s presence vanish from the doorway. Shifting slightly on Blake’s lap, I let my expression darken, the sweet facade dropping like a mask after a long show.

Rage and jealousy burned through my veins. I could fucking kill her. My mind screamed with the unfairness of it all. Even shit–faced drunk, Blake had mistaken me for Anna. I’d had to sit there and listen to how much he loved his precious wife, and it made me sick with envy.

I traced my finger along Blake’s jawline, my eyes glittering dangerously in the moonlight. Twenty years together, and he only remembers her? What about everything we’ve shared?

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Chapter 297

This morning, I noticed Anna hadn’t fully closed the door when she left. How careless of her. Almost like an invitation.

After Anna stormed out, I slipped through that barely closed door. I crept through the mansion like a ghost, dodging security with practiced case. I know Blake’s habits better than anyone–especially how he drinks when he’s upset.

I waited in the shadows for nearly eight hours. My feet went numb, but I didn’t care. When I finally saw Blake slumped in the chair, glass in hard, I made

my move.

I stumbled toward him on purpose, falling at his feet. ‘Blakey,” I whispered. I thought he would scoop me up, protect me like he used to.

But Blake didn’t even open his eyes. “Anna,” he mumbled, his voice thick with booze and longing. Don’t be with him. You’re mine, you’re mine! Anna…

Anna…”