# Chapter 115: The Bitter Taste of Their Perfect Picture
Hello everyone, it’s me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 115 of *The Untouchable Ex Wife*. If you thought the tension couldn’t get any thicker, think again—because this chapter serves up a full course of jealousy, humiliation, and aching hearts, all wrapped in a silver platter of fine dining and cruel games. Let’s dive right in, shall we?
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The scene opened at a dinner table that radiated elegance, but the air around it was charged with something far from refined. Seraphina and Stefan were bickering like an old married couple—teasing, snapping, and smiling in that sickeningly familiar way that made Renee’s stomach twist into knots. Her fists clenched beneath the table, nails digging into her palms as she watched them exchange words that felt far too natural, far too intimate.
“Stefan, it seems a little unnecessary for me to stand here since you're having such a nice chat with Miss Everheart. Why don't I leave you both to your meal? I'll go back to the hotel,” Seraphina said airily, her voice dripping with the kind of indifferent grace she had perfected over the years. She turned on her heel, ready to escape.
But Renee caught her wrist. Seraphina froze, stunned by the boldness. Renee’s smile was sweet, but there was steel beneath it as she said with mock seriousness, “It's not unnecessary at all—you being here is actually very important. You can cut our steaks, pour wine for us, and even serve us dishes.”
The words were a slap in the face, and everyone at the table felt it. Seraphina’s composure cracked. “Don't test me, Renee! You're the one who should be doing these things!” she hissed, jerking her hand away violently.
“Who said that I should do those things?” Renee raised one delicate eyebrow, feigning innocence in a way that could drive any woman mad.
“Stefan!” Seraphina snapped, her voice sharp and demanding, as if invoking his name would end the argument.
“Who is Stefan? Why should I obey him?” Renee asked, still with that angelic, innocent expression. The mockery was so subtle, so perfectly timed, that Stefan himself seemed to pause. Seraphina’s face flared into the color of ripe tomatoes—a rosy red that betrayed every ounce of her fury. She looked ready to combust on the spot.
Stefan, ever the diplomat when it suited him, intervened with a calmness that set Seraphina’s mood ablaze. “Seraphina, you can come and sit near me.”
Instantly, as if a switch had flipped in her brain, Seraphina’s scowl vanished like morning mist. A sugar-sweet smile replaced it, sticky enough to make one nauseous. “I knew you wouldn't ignore me, Stefan,” she purred, rushing over to him with the grace of a cat laying claim to its territory.
Then she did the unthinkable. She climbed onto his lap, clinging to him like a possessive lover, settling in as if she were already his bride-to-be. The image burned itself into Renee’s mind: Seraphina cozily perched on Stefan’s thighs, their silhouettes forming the perfect picture of a couple in love. From the outside, they looked like they belonged together—beautiful, wealthy, and mesmerizing.
Renee lowered her head. She brought a glass of water to her lips and sipped it quietly, the cold liquid feeling heavy as it traveled down her throat. She didn’t want them to see the crack in her armor, the tears threatening to spill. So she swallowed them with the water and tried to disappear into the background.
When the dishes finally arrived, the food was exquisite. Unlike the bizarre fried spider from that day, the dishes before her looked delicate and tasted even more refined, each bite a careful orchestration of flavors. But Renee found herself utterly without appetite. She pushed the food around her plate, her fork creating meaningless patterns as her eyes refused to meet the scene before her.
Seraphina, of course, was all too eager to play her part. “Stefan, I want to eat the steak. Cut it up for me, please? I want small pieces because I can't eat much,” she whined, leaning her back against his chest and delicately pointing at the plate. Her voice was so saccharine that anyone overhearing would have recoiled—but she didn’t care. This was a performance, and she intended to win an Oscar.
Renee’s eyes shot daggers at the two of them. The vicious glare she cast was loaded with a hatred she rarely allowed herself to feel. Then, out of pure spite or perhaps survival instinct, she picked up her knife and fork and began cutting into her own steak with loud, deliberate, dramatic noises—sawing at the meat with a force that echoed through the tense room. The grinding of metal against porcelain was her silent scream.
In that moment, a bitter thought crossed her mind. Sometimes, she almost admired women like Seraphina and Briar. Acting coy, being coquettish, pretending to be weak and cute—all of that seemed to come so naturally to them. They wore flirtation like a second skin, throwing their heads back and batting their lashes with practiced ease. Renee, on the other hand, couldn't do it to save her life.
Even during her short honeymoon with Stefan, she couldn’t bring herself to act that way. She couldn’t wrap herself around him, bat her eyes at him, or speak in that dripping, honeyed voice. Perhaps because deep down, she was never truly certain about his feelings. How could you give yourself wholly to a man you couldn’t read? How could you play the part of the eager wife when your heart was still locked in doubts and fears?
And so, she simply endured.
An hour passed—an hour that felt like an eternity, each minute dripping by like slow poison. Finally, the dinner came to an end. Stefan rose and paid for the meal without a word. Renee watched as he turned to leave with Seraphina beside him, their shadows merging under the warm restaurant lights. Seraphina clung to his arm as if staking a claim.
Renee’s heart hammered. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Stepping forward, she planted herself in front of them, her posture sharp with suppressed fury. “Stefan, are you... just going to leave like that?”
A lazy, arrogant smirk crossed his lips. “Why not? Do you want to go with us?”
Renee refused to be swayed by his teasing. She held her ground, her chin lifting. “No. I ate with you, and I was forced to watch your disgusting PDA. So you should tell me what I want to know now, right?”
The silence stretched for a moment. Then Stefan spoke, his voice low and unreadable. “Sure.” A pause. “Go rest first... I'll tell you everything tomorrow morning.”
He walked away, leaving Renee standing there in the aftermath of his words, heart pounding with unanswered questions and an uncomfortable sliver of hope she couldn’t quite stamp out.
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# Reader's Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter aches in all the right places. The layered scene at the dinner table is painfully vivid—you can almost feel Renee’s isolation and simmering anger as Seraphina performs her little show of possessiveness. The contrast between Seraphina’s effortless coquetry and Renee’s inability to play that game is a poignant reflection of her emotional distance and self-doubt. Stefan remains an intriguing enigma, dangling the promise of truth like a carrot on a stick. The frustration is real, but it makes you desperate to turn the page. This chapter masterfully builds tension without a single explosion—just quiet, slow-burning torture that leaves you breathless.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.7 / 5 Stars
# Next Chapter Prediction
Renee will barely sleep as she waits for dawn, replaying every word Stefan said. When morning arrives, a private meeting will finally take place—but instead of clarity, Stefan may drop a bombshell that entangles her even further in his web of secrets. Meanwhile, Seraphina, sensing Stefan’s attention wavering, will likely take a desperate and dangerous step to ensure she isn’t pushed aside. And somewhere in the shadows, Briar may once again rise to complicate matters in a way nobody expects. The truth, when it comes, will not set anyone free—it will only tighten the chains.
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