My coldhearted ex demands a remarriage

Chapter 575:

Lise froze, her forced smile faltering. Her fingers clenched around the glass as bitterness surged within her. Carrie, again? Why was it always Carrie?

For a moment, her mind spun with resentment. If Kristopher had chosen a wealthy heiress, someone of his own social standing, Lise could have accepted her loss, walked away with dignity, and rebuilt her life. But no—he’d chosen Carrie, a woman with no wealth, no status, no pedigree. How could she, of all people, take everything from her?

That couldn’t happen!

Lise’s hatred burned brightly, but she quickly masked it with a sweet smile. If she couldn’t have Kristopher, she wouldn’t let Carrie have him either. She’d destroy everything if she had to.

Lise should be exiled to a foreign land, facing the threat of prison, while Carrie sat smugly as Mrs. Norris, living the high life? If she was destined for hell, she’d drag Carrie down with her.

Setting the glass on the table, Lise reached for Kristopher’s hand, lowering her voice to mimic Carrie’s gentle tone. “Kristopher, it’s me… Carrie.”

Kristopher’s groggy gaze lingered on her face, his lips twitching in a weak attempt to speak. “I’m sorry…” he whispered. “I failed to protect you. If it really was Lise behind it all, I’ll make sure she…” His voice trailed off as sleep overtook him, his head falling onto Lise’s lap.

Lise’s smile hardened. His unfinished sentence lingered in her mind like a threat. If Kristopher truly believed she was guilty, he’d make her pay. Pain and anger burned in her eyes. Stroking his chiseled face, she whispered in a bitter voice, “Kristopher, how could you be so cruel? I have your sister’s heart beating inside me. And yet, you’d still let me suffer for her?”

Still, she felt a twisted sense of relief. At least she wasn’t placing all her hopes on him anymore. Billie Norris was on her side now, and with her influence, Lise wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Meanwhile, downstairs in the Oasis Club lobby, Albin and Camille arrived, their lively energy cutting through the somber atmosphere. Albin was mid-call, confirming his friend’s location, when the club manager spotted him.

“Mr. Murray,” the manager greeted warmly. “It’s been a while. What brings you here tonight?”

Albin ended the call and slung an arm around Camille’s shoulder. “Been busy dating, no time for clubs,” he replied with a grin. “By the way, do you know where…?”

Kristopher’s at?” The manager, recognizing Albin as one of Kristopher’s closest friends, nodded knowingly.

“Of course. I just helped him settle in. Let me take you there.”

The manager led them upstairs, to Kristopher’s private lounge. When the door opened, Albin and Camille froze at the sight before them. Lise was seated on the sofa, her posture demure yet intimate. Kristopher’s head rested in her lap, his arms loosely wrapped around her waist as if seeking comfort. The sight screamed intimacy, and Lise’s carefully rehearsed expression of surprise only added to the theatrics.

“Albin? Camille?” Lise exclaimed, her voice tinged with feigned embarrassment. A faint blush dusted her cheeks as if she’d been caught in a private moment. “What are you doing here?”

In truth, Lise had heard them approaching and arranged herself and Kristopher in this suggestive pose, determined to manipulate the narrative.

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