Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife

The morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting long shadows across the pristine hotel suite. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint remnants of last night’s champagne.

Alexander stood by the window, his posture rigid, his sharp gaze fixed on the woman sitting at the edge of the bed. Serena.

She was undeniably beautiful, her tousled hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her delicate fingers working swiftly as she finished buttoning her blouse. But Alexander remained unmoved.

“I’ll compensate you generously,” his voice was smooth but laced with ice. “But don’t expect anything beyond that. What happened last night changes nothing.”

Serena paused, fingers tightening around the last button of her blouse. The weight of his words pressed against her, heavy and unforgiving.

Meanwhile, Alexander’s mind reeled, replaying the events of the previous night in fragmented flashes.

The Vanderbilt family had hosted a grand banquet in his honor—a spectacle of wealth and power, attended by business elites and socialites desperate to gain favor with the heir of the Vanderbilt empire.

Serena had been there too.

She hadn’t planned on staying long. But her father, Alfonso Morales, had intercepted her, pressing two crystal glasses of wine into her hands and urging her to introduce herself to Alexander.

That was the moment everything blurred.

Alexander clenched his jaw. He had always been in control—especially around women. Even when intoxicated, he never lost his composure. Yet, last night felt different.

Was it the drink?

Doubt gnawed at the edges of his thoughts.

Serena, on the other hand, sat motionless, trying to steady her breath.

She knew Alexander despised this marriage—had resented it from the very moment their engagement had been announced.

And now, after what had happened last night, how was she supposed to convince him that she wasn’t part of some elaborate scheme?

A flicker of frustration passed through her eyes.

She hesitated, then finally spoke, her voice quiet yet firm.

“Actually, I—”

But before she could continue, the sharp vibration of Alexander’s phone sliced through the tense silence.

It buzzed against the bedside table.

Alexander exhaled slowly, his expression darkening as he glanced at the screen. Without a second thought, he answered, putting the call on speaker.

The crisp morning air drifted through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of fresh rain from the city below. The sky was painted in soft hues of blue and gray, the river stretching endlessly in the distance.

Alexander stood by the window, his jaw tightening as he listened to the voice on the other end of the call.

“Mr. Vanderbilt, we’ve arrived at Miss Morales’s apartment. She’s not home. Should we deliver the divorce papers to her family instead?”

His fingers drummed lightly against the glass as he considered the situation.

Three years.

That was how long he had been legally bound to Serena Morales—a woman he had no memory of, despite their marriage. To him, she was little more than a name on a legal document, a favor repaid.

Grandfather says she’s kind, well-educated, and doesn’t meddle in family affairs. A Harvard graduate, no less. But so what? The Morales family’s crisis ended long ago. I’ve done my part in repaying her for saving Grandfather’s life.

His gaze remained impassive as he responded, his tone devoid of warmth.

“Keep trying to contact her. If she refuses to cooperate, involve her family.”

Across the room, Serena’s fingers tightened around her phone at the mention of the divorce papers. Her heart clenched momentarily before her attention shifted to an incoming message from her father.

Alfonso: Serena, did you leave early last night? Araminta asked if Alexander drank the wine.

Serena: Dad, didn’t you prepare it?

Alfonso: No, Araminta did. If you have time today, visit Valentina at the hospital. She said she misses you.

Serena’s grip on the device tightened, anger flashing in her eyes. So it was Araminta.

Her steps faltered slightly as frustration surged through her, but she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to remain composed. Alfonso had always been a devoted father. Even after remarrying when she was in college, he had tried to keep their bond intact. She didn’t want to burden him with her anger.

Instead, she typed a calm response.

Serena: I’ll visit Valentina later. Tell her I miss her too.

Her gaze drifted back to Alexander, who remained by the window, his white robe loosely draped over his tall frame. His presence commanded the space effortlessly—broad shoulders, strong arms, the smooth planes of his chiseled features accentuated by the morning light.

His expression, however, was impassive, distant, as if last night had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Serena swallowed the lump in her throat and made a decision.

There was no point in lingering. They were going to divorce anyway. Best to leave quietly.

She moved swiftly, gathering her things without a sound. The last thing she wanted was to endure an awkward exchange.

By the time Alexander ended the call, the suite had fallen into an eerie silence.

He turned, expecting to see her—but there was nothing. Just empty sheets, scattered clothing, and the lingering scent of wine and intimacy in the air.

His eyes darkened.

He ran a hand over his face, recalling the previous night with growing frustration. If not for the undeniable stain on the sheets, I might’ve believed waking up next to her was just a bad dream.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

Jonathan Armstrong entered, carrying a freshly pressed suit. “Mr. Vanderbilt.”

He placed the clothes down neatly, his sharp eyes taking in the slightly disheveled state of the room before retreating into the living room without a word.

Alexander stepped into the bathroom, allowing the cool water to chase away the remnants of the night before. Yet, as he stood beneath the shower, something gnawed at him.

The woman he had woken up beside…

The way she had slipped out without a word…

It irked him more than it should have.

Dressed in his usual tailored suit, he stepped out of the bathroom and moved toward the door. But just as he reached the hallway, he suddenly paused.

His voice was sharp when he spoke. “Who was the woman that left my room this morning?”

Jonathan, caught off guard, quickly pieced things together. “I’ll investigate right away.”

Alexander’s lips pressed into a thin line, irritation creeping into his features.

So, she wants me to chase her? To play her game?

His gaze darkened. No chance. If she went through all this trouble, she’ll surface again.

He waved Jonathan off dismissively.

“Forget it. She’ll come back.”

Across the city, Serena stepped out of a steaming shower, wrapping herself in a towel. Her skin still tingled, as if trying to erase the remnants of last night, but no amount of scrubbing could wash away the memory.

Exhausted, she collapsed onto her bed, closing her eyes.

But the moment she did, the night played back in vivid detail.

The feel of Alexander’s touch.

The intensity in his eyes.

The way she had initially barely endured it, only to be swallowed by pleasure that seeped into her very bones.

Serena clenched the bedsheets, bitterness rising in her throat.

It wasn’t losing her virginity to him that troubled her.

It was that, in the heat of it all—his voice husky, his breath heavy—he had murmured a name.

"Victoria..."

Victoria Laurent.

The woman he truly loved.

The reason he wanted this divorce in the first place.

Serena turned on her side, her chest tightening. She had spent three years as his wife, yet she was nothing more than an obligation.

Sleep refused to come. Giving up, she pulled open her bedside drawer, revealing two pristine marriage certificates.

She traced a finger over the embossed seal, her expression unreadable.

For three years, I was Mrs. Vanderbilt in name only. But last night…

She exhaled sharply, shutting the drawer.

Last night changed everything...