Goodbye Forever Ex-Husband (Olivia and Adrian) novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149

Chapter 149

OLIVIA’S POV

My father’s voice filled the room, calm but stern. “The last time I spoke to you all, your mother sounded fine. There were no bruises on her body or yours. We agreed that you’d be coming to Mexico, and I would pick you both up. Then out of nowhere, I receive a call and see all of this? Olivia, Julian, I need an explanation. Now.”

The room went still, and even the sound of the maids clearing the dishes had faded into silence. I looked at Julian, unsure of where to begin. He cleared his throat, his fingers lightly tapping the edge of the dining table.

“There’s a lot that happened in the past three days,” Julian began, his voice steady but clearly strained. “And to be honest, we’re lucky to even be here at this table. But I’ll tell you everything. I’ll start from the beginning.”

He gave me a quick glance, a silent cue to brace myself. Damian, who had been quietly sipping juice suddenly leaned forward, interested now more than

ever.

Julian continued, “It started the moment Olivia decided to go back and inform her ex–husband that she was carrying his child. She felt he had a right to know…”

“But things didn’t go as planned,” I cut in, my voice softer than I expected. “He wasn’t who I thought he’d be. I didn’t even get the words out. Everything about the visit felt wrong, so I left his house that day. For good.”

Julian nodded and picked up from there. “She came to my place upset, but determined to leave the country. We decided that was the best thing for her and the baby. We were packing, planning… and then it happened.”

He paused. I could see him reliving the memory. The part that still haunted both of us.

“That night,” he continued, “armed men broke into the house. Not just a robbery. These guys were professionals. Cold. Calculated. They took out all the security guards without hesitation. We tried calling the police, but they never arrived on time.”

“They didn’t even get close,” I added, the memory suddenly tightening my c

chest.

Julian went on. “They found us. Tied us up. I thought we were going to die right there in the living room. But then… then they did something none of us expected.”

“They planted bombs,” I said quietly.

The word hung in the air.

“What?” Damian choked, nearly spilling the drink in his hand.

My father’s eyes sharpened. He leaned forward, fingers steepled under his chin, completely focused. “Go on.”

“Thankfully,” Julian said, “we managed to get out just before the explosion. It was close. Too close.”

“The blast went off,” I said, finishing his thought. “And the shockwave… it hit us. Hard. That’s what left the bruises. That’s how Mom got injured. We were thrown against the ground, and glass shattered everywhere. We were lucky to be alive.”

Julian nodded solemnly. “The entire house is gone. Nothing left but rubble.”

My father exhaled deeply, then leaned back into his chair. His expression hadn’t changed, but I knew him well enough to see the quiet storm brewing beneath the surface.

“That’s all that happened?” he asked.

I nodded, slowly.

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“And who sent the men?” he asked, though I was sure he already knew.

“It was my ex–husband,” I said softly.

There was a thick silence.

The moment his name left my mouth, the air in the room seemed to shift. My father didn’t reply right away. Instead, with a swift flick of his fingers, one of the suited butlers came running in, already clutching a black tablet as if he had anticipated the command.

“Honey, don’t do this,” my mom’s voice cut in, firm but laced with concern. A chill went down my spine. She wasn’t just trying to calm him. She was warning him.

And if she was worried… then I needed to be, too. Because my mom knew my dad better than anyone else in the world. If she was trying to pull him back, then this wasn’t the first time she had seen him like this–calm, calculating, dangerous.

“Don’t do what?” my dad replied, still not looking at her. “This man–Adrian Westwood–sent men to kill you. To kill my only son. My only daughter. And…” His eyes flicked to me and then slowly dropped to my stomach. “…my grandchild.”

His words slammed into me harder than I expected. My arms wrapped around my belly, as if to shield the life growing inside me from the fury that now bled into my father’s voice.

“And not only that,” he went on, “he blew up a multi–billion dollar mansion. A mansion my father built. A home that was meant to stay in our family for generations. I passed it to Julian, who would one day pass it to his son.”

His voice was louder now. Each word carried weight, authority, and a terrifying edge.

“I know,” my mom said softly. “But we’re here. We’re alive. We’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“Safe?” my dad snapped, turning toward her now, his composure cracking just enough to show the fury bubbling underneath. “What if something had happened to you? To Julian? To Oliver? I only just got Olivia back. Seeing her again is the best thing that’s happened to me in years and that young man tried to rip that away from me again!”

I looked down at my hands in my lap, shame and fear twisting inside me. I hadn’t wanted things to end up like this.

My dad took a breath and straightened, his voice lowering again but no less firm. “He made one fatal mistake,” he said. “Maybe it’s because his not from Mexico but the Blake family does not get stepped on anywhere.”

“He should’ve thought twice. Because no one tries to hurt the Blake family and walks away unscathed.”

The room went quiet again, the weight of his words settling on everyone like heavy dust: