Her ceo ex husband (Grace and Antonio) novel Chapter 95

Chapter 95 

The door opened, a wry smile playing on my lips, but the room fell silent. 

Every eye was on me, a mix of embarrassment and discomfort etched on their faces. 

My fiance lay cradled in a woman’s arms — a woman whose face was intimately familiar from his laptop. 

Antonio’s friends, unprepared for my sudden arrival, scrambled to pull him away from Mandy. 

He, wasted and oblivious, roared, “Back off! Leave me alone!” 

I’d ever seen him like this; alcohol was not his vice. 

One friend hissed, “Grace’s here! Get it together! You’re getting married.” 

The others joined the effort, finally separating Antonio and Mandy. 

After a few tense minutes, Antonio plopped onto the couch, his face flushed. 

One friend finally exhaled, turning to me. 

“This is Mandy, an old high school friend. She’s back from Nardoven for the party. Antonio is wasted. Don’t take it personally.” 

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A piece of my mind would have been unleashed on Antonio years ago, 

Now, I could only manage a strained grin. 

“Are you Antonio’s friend?” Mandy, assessing me with curious eyes, asked. 

Antonio’s friend began, “This is Antonio’s fiancee.” 

Antonio cut him off, his voice sharp. “No, we’re just friends!” 

My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms. 

The room shifted uncomfortably, sympathy heavy in the air. 

This wasn’t the first time Antonio had hidden our relationship. 

The Facebook silence, the avoidance at work, the refusal to invite our families — the signs had been there. 

I’d been in denial, gambling eight years of my life on a hope that proved tragically misplaced. 

I plastered on a smile, shaking Mandy’s hand. “Hi, I’m Grace Parrish, a friend of Antonio’s. You look even more beautiful in person.” 

The room fell deadly silent. 

Mandy laughed it off, grabbing snacks. 

Antonio, suddenly alert, sat up straight. “You’re allergic to nuts!” 

Mandy’s hand froze. “Sweetheart, these are potato chips. You’re drunk.” 

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Chapter 95 

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My heart shattered. Antonio had never truly cared about my feelings. 

“Grace, are you crying?” someone asked, noticing my tears. 

I touched my cheek, the wetness cold against my skin. 

Why was I crying? 

I had given my prime years to a fraud.