The Ugly Wife’s Stunning Comeback novel Chapter 143

It looked like Max really had just been served the divorce papers. Thinking back on the way he read them, Felicia could only guess he was laughing at her for thinking she could win this fight. She got into her car without another word.

Lunch with the crew was a blur. Afterward, she headed back to the office, but she couldn’t focus at all. The whole afternoon, Felicia just sat there, lost in her thoughts, Anne’s face popping up in her mind again and again. She’d spent years avoiding Anne, staying away from Max, all because she was scared she’d lose control if she saw them. Now, though, she couldn’t outrun it anymore. The longing was too much, and she knew she had to deal with it, somehow.

She’d made plans to grab drinks with Savannah that night, but Savannah had to work late, crunching for a deadline. Yara wasn’t feeling well, and Heather was tied up at home with her kids. So Felicia ended up at the bar on her own.

FC Bar was one of the most exclusive spots in the Capital, all polished wood and brass, the kind of place where the city’s elite came to unwind. Felicia found a seat at the bar and ordered two whiskeys, back to back. The warm, golden light from the overhead lamps made the bar glow, and the ice in her glass clinked softly as she took a long, steady drink. She tossed back one glass, then another, not even flinching at the burn.

She still wore her business suit, looking out of place among the designer dresses and tailored jackets around her. But Felicia’s beauty drew attention anyway. With a hint of tipsiness in her eyes, she had an effortless charm that made people stare.

From the plush booths, a few men watched her, their interest obvious. She pretended not to notice.

Upstairs, on the second-floor balcony, a tall man leaned over the railing, half-hidden in the shadows. In the low light, his sharp features looked even more striking. He stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on Felicia at the bar below, dark and unreadable, lost in his own thoughts.

Back at the bar, a man with a drink in hand made his way over and slid into the seat next to her. “Max!”

Max pulled his gaze back and turned to Wyatt.

“Man, it’s getting harder and harder to get you out these days. What, you’re not glued to Anne for once?” Wyatt teased with a grin.

Felicia didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the nearest bottle and smashed it over his head.

In one of the private rooms, Max and Wyatt were just settling in with Kennedy. They were catching up, drinks in hand, when the manager rushed in, looking worried. After a quick greeting, he got straight to the point.

“Kennedy, there’s trouble downstairs. Mitch just got hit.”

Kennedy’s expression turned serious. He glanced at Max and Wyatt. “I’ll go check it out.” He left with the manager, and Wyatt followed, curiosity getting the better of him. “Let’s see what’s happening.”

Downstairs, Mitch pressed a towel to his bleeding forehead, eyes burning with rage as he glared at Felicia, who sat at the bar, completely unfazed, sipping her drink. He shouted at the security staff, voice shaking with anger. “What are you waiting for? Grab her!”