# Chapter 29: The Lingerie Department Trap
Hello everyone, it's me again! How are you all doing? Today I will continue to walk with you and review Chapter 29 of "Seduced By My Ex's Divorce Attorney audiobook free". This chapter is a knife twist of suspicion, loyalty, and a confrontation that feels like watching a heart break in slow motion. So grab a tissue—or two—and let’s walk through it together.
We open in a warm, cozy restaurant where Hannah is taste-testing dishes for the upcoming gala with Victoria and Chelsea. Victoria is glowing, talking about the baby—her little bean—and how Jett loves speaking to her bump, convinced the baby already recognizes his voice. It is sweet, soft, and normal. Then Hannah shatters the mood with five words: she hired a private investigator.
Forks drop. Eyes widen. Chelsea asks the first logical question: are they exclusive? Hannah says Roarke told her she was the only woman, but lately he has been taking phone calls away from her. Victoria, ever the lawyer’s defender, points out that he is an attorney, and attorney-client privilege exists. But Hannah has more. He left her after a phone call one weekend night. He claimed it was work. He came home at two in the morning. And the next day, his shirt carried a faint perfume that was not hers.
That silences both friends. Hannah has done her homework—every Cosmo article, every telltale sign. She wants evidence, not excuses. She wants to catch him in the act so he cannot sweet-talk her. The PI has been instructed to call the moment she sees something compromising. Chelsea jokes about being on the set of *Cheaters*, even doing a mock microphone interview, but Victoria shoots her a look. Chelsea apologizes. Hannah chuckles, admitting it is the first time she has laughed all week.
Victoria asks if there is news. Hannah says the PI will only call if Hannah can meet her. Otherwise, she will follow Roarke for a week and report back. Then Victoria and Chelsea each place a hand over Hannah’s, forming a prayer circle in the booth. They promise to pick her up if she falls. Hannah smiles, grateful, though she kept Gwen out of the loop because Gwen is busy with work. She says she has already prepared herself. Then her phone rings.
The PI’s number. Hannah answers. A sweet voice tells her to come to 900 Michigan, outside Bloomingdale’s. Then she hangs up. Hannah says, “It’s now or never.” Chelsea asks to come. Victoria rushes to tell Jett they have to leave, then surprises Hannah by saying she told him whatever—that he is a great chef and they are cool with whatever he thinks is best. Chelsea laughs. Victoria shrugs. There is no time for another taste test, and his food is awesome anyway.
They step out of the dark restaurant into the bright Chicago sun. Chelsea flags a taxi and climbs into the front seat, joking that she does not want to slide across the seat while pregnant. The driver follows directions to 900 Michigan, the premier shopping area. When they arrive, Hannah stares up at the building and takes a deep breath.
Chelsea asks if she can kick Roarke in the nuts. They ride the escalator up to Bloomingdale’s, where the PI—a redhead—is waiting in a massage chair. She greets Hannah and delivers the first blow: her partner is still tailing them. They are in the women’s business attire section. And there is a child with them. A little girl.
Hannah’s heart drops to the bottom of her stomach. Does Roarke have a child he never told her about? The PI shows a picture. Chelsea tries to peek over her blonde hair. The PI explains that Roarke has been with the woman all afternoon, but there has been no untoward affection. He hugged the girl and gave her a high five, but that is all. Still, it is weird for a man to shop with a woman who is not his girlfriend. Victoria agrees—Reed once acted like she was prying his fingernails off when she looked for jeans.
The PI adds that otherwise Roarke has been clean all week: courthouse, office, home. He had lunch with a client one day. She slides to another picture—Scarlett Quinton, Hannah’s friend, at a small sandwich place with Roarke. The PI says it is up to Hannah whether this is worth confronting him over. Then the PI presses her earpiece and says, “She’s here.” She listens. “Okay.” She stands. Her partner reports that the woman went into the intimates area after modeling some pantsuits, and the subject had the seamstress fit her on two of them. Roarke has been playing goldfish with the little girl while waiting.
Chelsea is already nodding toward the entrance. Hannah hesitates. She remembers the humiliation of Todd’s affair—how other people knew before she did, how stupid they must have thought she was, the poor in-the-dark wife. That memory pushes her forward. “Let’s go.”
They head inside. With every step, Hannah weakens. Her heart pricks as if it is slowly draining of blood, knowing it will soon be in little pieces anyway. This is going to hurt so much more than Todd. How is that possible? A man who entered her life only a few months ago will tear her apart more than her marriage did.
They enter the intimates section. A blonde woman is leaving with bras, garters, and silk panties in her hands. She smiles at them, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Hannah registers that she is about two sizes smaller than her, but refuses to examine that now. Chelsea asks the woman’s name, but Hannah stops her. Her issue is not with the woman. It is with the man who made a promise to her.
The PI nods when she says Hannah’s name, signaling that the blonde is the woman with Roarke. Hannah swallows past the lump in her throat. Roarke’s head peers up over the racks of designer clothes. Did he hear her name? His face pales. His eyes dart to the woman with Hannah, then to the woman already with them. He understands immediately. He is too smart not to know when someone gets caught in the act.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, weaving through the racks. When he clears them, a little blonde girl follows, peeking out through the clothes like curtains. The woman says, “Reese,” and the girl goes to her mom’s side. The mom is holding lingerie.
A sales associate bustles over, talking about the receipt for the suits, saying they can be picked up next Monday, and offering to ring up the bras and panties next. But everyone’s eyes are on Hannah and Roarke.
Hannah says, “I’d ask for an explanation but I don’t need one.” Her voice is deathly calm. Roarke asks if she had him followed, with the nerve to make it sound like she did something wrong. Hannah says she told him she knew the best. A hollow laugh floats out of his mouth. He asks why she would not just ask him if she thought something was going on. She says she does not need to ask. She has proof now.
Roarke repeats, “Proof?” Hannah sneers and points behind her at the blonde woman. Chelsea grabs the PI’s phone, runs up to Roarke, and holds the screen millimeters from his face. “We have it right here. Who buys lingerie for a woman who’s not their girlfriend?” She points at the blonde, who now stares at Roarke with sympathy.
Roarke glances at Hannah. “Maybe if Hannah would like to have a one-on-one conversation, we could clear this all up and you’ll see there’s no proof of anything.” He is mad. Hannah hears it in his tone, in the clench of his jaw, in the fists at his sides.
Hannah refuses. She does not need a conversation where he sweet-talks her into believing she is imagining things, where her old insecurity from being cheated on before is blamed for planting doubts in her subconscious. She asks him point-blank: would he be okay with another man buying her lingerie? He shifts his stance and says no, he would not. She says, “Then it’s done. Thank you, Roarke, for proving to me you are exactly who I thought you were in the first place.”
She storms off down the aisle, not caring that other shoppers are starting to notice. Roarke calls after her that she is being ridiculous, begging for five minutes in the cafe so this can all be cleared up. Chelsea spits out that she would knee him in the nuts if she did not think it would harm her baby. Victoria says she is really disappointed in him, that she thought he was one of the good ones. Then Hannah hears nothing else. She does not stop until she is on the street, flagging down a taxi.
Victoria and Chelsea are at her side, just as promised, prepared to piece her back together. But Hannah is not sure all the broken pieces will fit back together the way they did the first time.
The next day, Hannah sits in her office, eyes so puffy she feels like a blowfish after a night of going through two boxes of tissues. The girls tried to spend the night, but she sent them home to their men, telling them she would take a sleeping pill and go to bed. Roarke has not tried to reach out since she left him standing between the designer dresses and sexy lingerie of Bloomingdale’s. She might never look at a nightie the same way again.
Then her phone dings. She does not want to acknowledge it, but the gala is only a week away and there are too many loose ends. It is Gwen. *I’m flying in this weekend. Can I crash with you?* Hannah’s reply is immediate: *YES! When do you get in?* It feels like a gift from above. Gwen is a wild child. She will surely take Hannah clubbing and help her forget all her troubles. She did a good job after Todd, and she will be up for the challenge this time, too. Gwen says Saturday at six, she will catch a cab. Hannah says she cannot wait to see her. Gwen says me either. Hannah says she will call later. Then she adds a smiley face.
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## Reader’s Impressions & Star Rating
This chapter hurt in all the right ways. Hannah’s fear is so real, so raw, and so rooted in her past with Todd that every clue feels like a fresh wound. The girls’ support—Victoria’s careful logic, Chelsea’s unfiltered jokes, their hands covering Hannah’s—is the kind of friendship that makes you want to call your own best friends. And Roarke’s pale face, his anger, his insistence on a private conversation? It leaves a bitter, uncertain taste. Is he guilty? Is he trapped in a misunderstanding? Or is Hannah’s trauma making her see proof where there might be another explanation? The chapter does not give us the full truth, and that is what makes it so gripping. It is painful, messy, and deeply human.
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Rating: 4.7 / 5 Stars
## Next Chapter Prediction
Gwen is about to land, and that means trouble, dancing, and maybe a little healing. I predict Gwen will drag Hannah out for a wild night to numb the pain, but Roarke will not let this go. He may show up with the real story—perhaps the blonde woman is a client, a relative, or someone connected to a case, and the lingerie was not what it seemed. But even if the truth clears him, Hannah’s trust is already cracked. The next chapter may bring a confrontation, a confession, or a new secret that changes everything. Either way, Hannah is about to learn whether her proof was real or just another ghost from her past.
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