The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 368

MARY’S POV: 

The next morning, I started looking. 

I opened my laptop at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee growing cold beside me, and began searching for rental listings. Apartments. Condos. Small houses. Anything that would give me and Elowen a fresh start. 

I found a few promising options. A two-bedroom apartment on the other side of town. A small bungalow with a fenced yard. A condo with a view of the river. I imagined myself living in each of them, starting over, building a new life for my daughter. 

I picked up my phone to call the first listing. 

And then I saw it. 

My bank card had been frozen. 

I stared at the screen, uncomprehending. The notification glowed up at me, cold and impersonal, telling me that my account had been restricted due to suspicious activity. 

But there was no suspicious activity. There was only me, trying to pay for a new life. 

I tried to access my account online. The same message appeared. Restricted. Suspicious activity. Contact your bank. 

I dialed the number on the screen, my fingers trembling. 

The customer service representative was polite, professional and completely unhelpful. She told me that my account had been frozen at the request of a third party. She couldn’t tell me who. She couldn’t tell me why. She could only tell me that I needed to resolve the issue with the third party before my account could be unfrozen. 

I asked who the third party was. She said she couldn’t disclose that information. 

I hung up the phone and stared at the wall. 

I stood up from the table. The coffee was cold, forgotten. The laptop screen glowed with rental listings I would never be able to afford. 

Alistair no longer just disappointed me. He made me feel like a complete stranger, someone I was beginning to fear. I had to get myself and my daughter away from him. 

I walked upstairs and started packing. 

The sun was setting when I heard the front door open. 

I was in the bedroom, a suitcase half-filled on the bed, when the sound drifted up from downstairs. Heavy footsteps, familiar and unwelcome. The creak of the stairs as someone climbed them. 

Alistair. 

I stood very still, my hands frozen on the edge of the suitcase. The footsteps grew louder, closer, until they stopped just outside the bedroom door and he walked in without knocking.