Goodbye Forever Ex-Husband (by Ammund) novel Chapter 156

Chapter 156

Chapter 156

ADRIAN’S POV

Mrs. Grayson caught everyone off guard.

It was almost like she had been waiting–waiting for the exact moment when all eyes were off her. The second I shifted my full attention to her husband, she made her move. Fast. Calculated. Her eyes had been locked onto that phone on the center table from the very beginning, just waiting for her chance.

What I couldn’t understand was what she expected to happen. Did she really believe that grabbing the phone and calling for help would somehow save them both? That she and her husband would walk out of here with their heads high, like this was just some harmless argument gone too far?

The room was surrounded. She had seen the men stationed at every possible exit, yet she still lunged forward like a woman possessed. I had to admit, she was faster than I expected–especially for her age. Her hand snatched the phone so quickly, it almost looked like muscle memory, like she’d rehearsed it in her mind over and over. But it was pointless.

I was already in motion.

I grabbed her by the wrist–the same one she used to snatch the phone–and squeezed hard. My grip tightened like a více until her fingers gave out and the phone clattered to the ground. Her face twisted in pain, and her knees buckled slightly from the force of it.

“This was your plan? This was why you were so damn confident?” I said, my voice sharp with disbelief and mockery. “You were counting on a phone

call?”

Before she could reply, a sudden blow slammed into my ribs. My body lurched slightly to the side–not from the force, but from the surprise. I hadn’t expected it. I had forgotten all about Mr. Grayson, who had gotten back to his feet.

The punch, though, was laughable.

My teeth clenched as I turned to face him. The pain was nothing. I’d taken hits from trained fighters. Broken bones and bloody knuckles were old friends of mine. Mr. Grayson’s punch felt like it came from a bitter child–not a man who helped destroy my mother’s life.

“That’s it,” I said, exhaling slowly, my tone calm but deadly. “Dan, take them to the basement before they try running out the front door again.”

Dan moved without hesitation. He grabbed Mrs. Grayson by the wrist I’d just let go of and yanked her backward. She stumbled as she tried to resist, but it was no use. One of Dan’s men was already dragging Mr. Grayson toward the hallway. The old man cursed under his breath, still trying to act like he had some dignity left.

I didn’t follow immediately. Instead, I walked straight into the kitchen.

Like I’d told her–slow poison is always the most satisfying. And that’s exactly what I intended to give them: a slow, painful dose of justice.

I was originally meant to order some proper torture tools. Something special. But life’s been busy lately, and I forgot. So, I had to get creative with what I

had.

From the drawer, I picked up a kitchen knife–small, sharp, and unforgiving. Next, a lighter. Then a fork. And finally, a spoon.

Yes, a spoon.

Now you might be wondering–what the hell can someone do with a spoon? Trust me. There are more ways than you’d think. And tonight, I planned to demonstrate a few.

By the time I descended into the basement, the air was heavy. Dan’s men had done a clean job—both Mr. and Mrs. Grayson were tied to chairs, wrists bound, ankles secured, mouths no longer spewing lies.

Seeing them like that–helpless, afraid, exposed–it felt better than I imagined.

I pulled my mother’s photo out from my jacket pocket. The one I’d brought for this exact moment.

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Chapter 156

Walking over to the small table in the center of the room, I placed the photo carefully on top–positioning it so it faced both of them.

“She’s going to watch,” I said quietly, more to myself than to them. “Everything I’m about to do… It’s all for her.”

“You know, Olivia spent a night down here,” I said

Both of them froze.

“It’s funny, really… how her adoptive parents are going to die in the same place.”

Mrs. Grayson flinched. Her posture stiffened, and for the first time since this began, her mask cracked. That forced calm she wore earlier like a badge of dignity slipped away, replaced by something raw. Her lips trembled. Her eyes widened.

Not the kind people fake to try and win sympathy. No, this wasn’t a performance. It was real, clawing through her, wrapping around her spine like ice. I could smell it. I could see it in the way her fingers curled around the rope bindings like they might suddenly save her. That fear–that was what I’d been waiting for.

“You think I brought you down here for a lecture?” I said, laughing softly, bitterly. “You think you’re going to leave this basement alive after what you did to me? What you did to her?”

“You ruined my childhood. You ruined me. And not just me–you destroyed dozens of families, scammed them, stole from them, left them to rot. Do you even remember their names? Their faces? Or were they just numbers in your bank account?”

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