Reclaimed By My Ex-husband

Nathaniel's fingers shook as he unfastened his seatbelt and pushed the door open. He stepped out of the car cautiously, his pulse hammering against his ribs.

A wave of relief washed over him when a faint groan reached his ears. At least the man was still breathing. Without wasting a second, he rushed toward him.

The bicycle lay mangled nearby, its wheel still spinning weakly, clicking against the bent frame. The man shifted, struggling to lift himself.

"I am so sorry," Nathaniel blurted as he bent down. His trembling hand caught the man's arm. "I-I take full responsibility. Please, let me take you to the hospital."

His chest tightened with guilt, his mind racing through the horror of what could have happened.

Then the man raised his head.

The pale glow of the streetlight revealed a face Nathaniel knew all too well. His breathing caught halfway.

"You…"

"Aren't you going to take me to the hospital?" the middle-aged man cut him sharply.

Nathaniel staggered inwardly, his confusion thickening with every second. "Uh…yeah," he stuttered, holding the man's arm tightly. "I'll take you there."

Nathaniel helped him upright and guided him carefully to the car. He eased him into the passenger seat, his eyes flicking over him with a mix of worry and disbelief.

Why had Kelvin appeared there like that?

A chill ran down Nathaniel's spine at the thought of what could have happened. If he hadn't slammed the brakes in time, Kelvin could have been lying on the asphalt in a pool of blood into a broken heap. The mere idea made him shiver.

"Are you okay?" Nathaniel asked with concern.

"Get in," Kelvin snapped sharply.

Nathaniel gave a curt nod and moved to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. He cast a frown toward Kelvin, his worry transforming into frustration.

"Do you even realize how dangerous that was?" he groaned, disbelief sharpening his tone. "You could have been killed because of that stunt you pulled."

His gaze softened slightly when he saw Kelvin rubbing his knee. "You are not in your twenties anymore. And yet…look at you. You acted like a stunt master. Now you are hurt, all because of your reckless behavior."

"Shut up," Kelvin growled, shooting him a glare. "It's your fault."

"You are blaming me?" The scowl on his face betrayed his anger. "You appeared out of nowhere. You should be grateful I slammed the brakes in time. Why didn't you message me first? I've been waiting, and instead, you crash into my car. Wasn't there a better way?"

Kelvin snorted, exhaling a sharp, derisive snort. "What could I do? You wanted to meet me urgently. Do you know how difficult that is for me? You almost blew my cover. You can't imagine the kind of people I'm dealing with. One small mistake, and I'm dead. So please don't break the rules I set. Got it?"

Nathaniel couldn't bring himself to speak, guilt twisting in his chest. Forcing Kelvin into this felt heavy on his conscience. Yet there was no other choice; he needed his help.

Kelvin shifted slightly, wincing as he rubbed his sore knee. "What is it? Why do you need to see me so urgently?"

Nathaniel's expression tightened as he recalled Jaxon's cruelty. "Jaxon has appeared. He tried to hurt Zara again."

He recounted the events at the hotel last night.

Kelvin listened carefully, taking in every detail.

"He kidnapped her with his father before," Nathaniel continued. "Because of that, Zara miscarried. We lost our first child." A shadow of sadness flickered behind his eyes, the memory stabbing at him.

"The cops managed to catch Isaac, but Jaxon was missing all those days. Now he has finally shown up, and he is targeting Zara again."

Nathaniel's fingers dug into the steering wheel. "I won't let him hurt her again." His lips twisted into a snarl. "Find him for me. Tell me where he is hiding. The rest I'll handle."

"Hmm," Kelvin nodded, his sharp mind already turning over the possibilities. "It's not a tough job. Give me a few days, and I'll have all his information in your hands."

Nathaniel felt a rush of gratitude, but the guilt still pinched his heart. He glanced at Kelvin. "Thanks. And…sorry for troubling you. I didn't realize one call could put you in danger."

Kelvin exhaled heavily. "I've dealt with dangerous people before," he said. "Back in my youth, I worked as an undercover agent. After retiring, I imagined a peaceful life with my wife, far away from all this chaos."

A wistful shadow crossed his face as memories surfaced, both sweet and painful. "But fate had other plans. My wife…she was found dead in our apartment. The police called it a suicide, but I knew it was murder. I even gathered evidence. Yet the people behind it were too powerful, untouchable. No one could help me."

His eyes flared with anger, carrying a silent vow to his late wife. That same determination had led him to take Nathaniel's case—because Zachary was connected to the gang responsible for his wife's death.

Kelvin's mind drifted back ten years, to the time he had investigated Vincent's accident. It was then that he realized Zachary had ties to a shadowy underworld network—a gang whose leader he had once taken down during his time as a secret agent, causing massive destruction.

Years later, the gang had regrouped and sought revenge. The day they came for him, he hadn't been home. Instead, they had killed his wife, leaving a chilling warning behind.

Since that moment, Kelvin had been consumed by a burning desire for vengeance, patiently waiting for the right opportunity to dismantle the entire gang.

Over the years, their influence had grown far beyond the underworld. Their reach extended into corporate circles, and men like Zachary had become key players within their ranks.

The idea of taking revenge on the gang had once seemed unattainable. But when Nathaniel approached him and mentioned Zachary, a spark of hope ignited in Kelvin. With the support of the Grant family, finally, he could pursue his long-held goal.

Nathaniel's gaze fell on him, brow furrowed. "Are you still after those people?" he asked, curiosity lacing his tone.

Kelvin snapped out of his reverie, looking away to avoid the question. "Forget about me. There is more pressing information about Roberto."