You Weren't Invited to My Wedding Ex novel Chapter 18

2:06 pm D

Chapter 18

JACOB’S POV

–

The door creaked open with the same sound I remembered soft, reluctant, like even the hinges knew it wasn’t mine anymore.

Pearl’s apartment. No. Our apartment.

I stepped in slow. The air hit different, not dusty, not untouched. Someone had been here. Probably the realtor prepping for the next idiot to sign a lease. But under it, faint as hell, I could still smell her.

Jasmine. That goddamn perfume she used to spray on her wrists. I used to tease her for it.

“You wear that so you can haunt me later, don’t you?”

She used to laugh. That laugh, the kind that hit like champagne, bubbly and reckless.

“No, you wear it so I will know what I lost when you gone.”

Guess she knew how this shit would end before I did. I walked through the space marble counter she used to cook on barefoot, swaying to some vinyl she stole from Past the hallway where we’d argue, kiss, argue again.

Everything still echoed her.

I stopped in the bedroom.

–

past the

my studio.

The bed was stripped now, but I remembered exactly how she looked in it, curled up in one of my shirts, hair a mess, skin bare.

“Don’t go to work today,” she used to whisper, tugging me back in.

“I’ve got board meetings, baby.”

“So? Let ‘em wait. Make millions tomorrow. Stay mine today.”

I used to laugh, press a kiss to her neck. But I always left anyway. I always chose the chase.

I sat on the edge of the mattress. My hand ran along the frame. My head hit the pillow.

“Why’d you fly to fucking Italy for tulips?” Luther asked me once, leaning on my desk like a judgmental idiot.

“Because she likes Italian tulips more than Dutch ones.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“You’ve never been in love,” I’d told him.

“And now I see why it ruins men,” he’d muttered.

I laughed back then. I’m not laughing now.

God. I bought her those flowers every goddamn month. Tulips and roses. She used to line them across the fireplace. Said it made the place feel like spring all

year.

I closed my eyes. I could still hear her voice – clear, soft, the day my company nearly collapsed.

All those investors pulling out. The headlines. The whispers.

“You’re not going to drown,” she said, kneeling in front of me.

You Weren’t Invited to My Wedding Evl

2:06 pm &

“How do you know?” I asked her.

“Because if you do, I’ll pull you out by the fucking throat,” she smirked. “And then I’ll kiss you till you forget you were ever underwater.”

She was my oxygen. My fucking lifeline. And I suffocated her.

A choked breath left me. My chest cracked like the mirror I’d shattered hours ago. Tears burned down, silent. Not for show. Not for guilt.

Just pain. Stupid, ugly pain.

I don’t even know when I passed out. But I must’ve, because the next thing I heard was a woman’s voice – sharp, nasal, way too cheerful for this funeral I was living.

“Mr. Wright?”

I blinked, sat up slow. My head was pounding.

A woman in a pantsuit and a fake smile stood at the foot of the bed, clipboard in hand.

Behind her, a man in a suit, realtor types.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked, voice gravel.

“Estate agent. This property has a new owner. We’re here to prepare it for occupancy.”

I stood up, glaring. “I own this place.”

“No, sir. It was purchased three days ago.” She checked her notes. “Under Montgomery Holdings.”

The name hit me like a goddamn bullet to the chest.

Sebastian.

Of course.

“How much did she offer?” I snapped.

The woman blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Pearl. How much did she offer?”

She gave a polite chuckle. “Oh, no, not Miss antonov. This wasn’t her. It was Mr. Montgomery. He purchased it directly. Said it’d be ideal for converting into luxury student rentals.”

I stepped closer. My voice dropped. “This was my home.”

“Not anymore.” Her tone turned cold. “Now, I suggest you leave. You’re trespassing, Mr. Wright.”

***

Then I called her. Middle of the night. Didn’t plan it.

She picked up.

“…Pearl.” Silence. “I know you hear me.”

Nothing. “I didn’t mean for things to go like this. Yeah, I fucked up. I know that. But him? He’s not me. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

Still nothing.

“You remember Italy? That stupid train station in Rome? You made me dance. You said you wanted that moment forever. So did I. I still do.”

2/4 64 8%

2:07 pm Nothing.

“Say something. Yell at me. Call me a bastard. Just don’t stay silent.”

Her voice came low. Cold. “Don’t call me again, Jacob.”

I clenched my jaw.

“I don’t hate you. I pity you.”

She hung up.

I tried calling back.