I Let Him Choose His Ex This Time Chapter 07

I Let Him Choose His Ex This Time Chapter 07

Cressida’s POV 

When I walked out the front doors of the Corleone estate, Gavin was already leaning against his car, waiting. 

He didn’t ask what happened inside. He just cast a glance at me and quietly walked around to the driver‘ s side. 

“Cressida.” 

The voice behind me made me pause. 

Lysander stormed out, his suit collar slightly unbuttoned, looking more unraveled than I had ever seen him. He stood on the steps looking down at me, like delivering a final verdict. 

“Where are you going now?” 

None of your business.” 

Leaving with him?” His gaze bypassed me, landing on Gavin, his tone turning vicious and dripping with mockery. “You’re the one who cheated first–you’ve really perfected the art of playing the victim.” 

I turned around and looked at him calmly. 

“I have a boyfriend, Lysander. Since the engagement is off, we have nothing left to talk about.” 

He sneered, “What’s so great about him?” 

“At the very least,” I said, my voice deadpan, “he never turns his back and runs away when I need him most.” 

His expression darkened momentarily before he struck back. “Do you think changing men will make you a new person? Cressida, your entire life, you’ve always been someone nobody wa–” 

Before he could finish, he reached for my wrist. 

The next second, his hand was intercepted. 

Gavin stepped out from behind me, locking his grip around Lysander’s wrist. He didn’t use terrifying strength, but his grip was like iron, nailing Lysander to the spot. Gavin pulled me behind him, looking down at Lysander, his tone colder than a freezing lake. “If you have something to say, say it to me.” 

Lysander stared up at him. A muscle jumped in his jaw, but he didn’t say another word. 

didn’t wait to see who won the staring contest. I turned and got into the car, 

At 3 PM, I was leaning against the sofa in Gavin’s apartment, staring out at the heavy gray clouds. My phone buzzed. 

It was my father, Laurent. 

I stared at the screen for two seconds, then answered. 

He skipped the small talk. His tone was sharp and calculated, treating me purely as a business associate. “The Volkov family’s new port development project+ have you heard of it?” 

Of course I had. It was the most coveted project in the city that year. It ran in the billions. Whoever locked it down would plant their flag permanently over this city’s economy. 

“If you can secure a partnership between the Beaumont family and the Volkov family,” he paused, will hand the company over to you.” 

I stayed silent. 

He didn’t ask how my meeting with the Corleones went. He didn’t ask about my injured ankle. He merely confirmed I possessed a useful bargaining chip and immediately monetized it. 

“Understood,” I said calmly, and hung up. 

Leaning back on the couch, I closed my eyes. Memories from the past life flooded in. 

had just miscarried that year, lying in a hospital bed with my bones aching like they’d been hollowed out. The bidding for that exact project opened during that time, and I missed it. Even without the miscarriage, the old me wouldn’t have had the drive to fight for it- back then, I was still so blindly devoted to Lysander, betting my life on him, blind to everything else. 

This life was different. 

As I sat there, the doorbell rang. 

Evangeline stood outside. 

She wore a beige trench coat, hair falling softly around her face, her eyes rimmed with red. She 

looked like a fragile white magnolia bending in the wind–a perfectly engineered image of pity. 

“Cressida,” she began softly. “There’s really nothing going on between Lysander and me. Please don’t ruin your marriage because of me. If you can’t stand the sight of me… I can leave. I’ll leave the city and never come back.” 

watched I watched her in silence. 

She spoke so earnestly, tears welling in her eyes, throwing herself on my mercy with her entire body. 

But I didn’t believe a word of it. 

In my past life, when I put a gun to my temple, Lysander’s hands shook–it was the first time I saw him truly panic. He stared at the gun and finally forced out a “Fine.” 

I thought that was the end. 

But on the way to the divorce lawyers, driving in silence, he suddenly spoke, his voice as flat as reading a script. “You know, Evangeline died paying for your sins. You never even thanked her. Your life belongs to her.” 

The streetlights flashed past the window. As I listened to him, a string that had been pulled taut inside me for years suddenly snapped. 

“If you 

loved her so much,” I turned to him, my voice colder than I ever knew I could sound, “why didn’t you die with her?” 

His eyes immediately turned bloodshot. 

Then I heard the engine roar as he floored the gas pedal. His voice tore through the screaming engine, emphasizing every single word, “We owe her a life. We’ll pay it back with this one.” 

Then came the impact, followed by darkness.