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Millicent Andrews never expected her life to collapse right before her twenty-first birthday. One moment she’s a wife, a best friend, a girl with a future… and the next, she’s staring at her husband Brian Vel in bed and tangled in her best friend’s arms, the betrayal slices her open in ways she can’t begin to stitch shut. The divorce is brutal and the humiliation is even worse. With nowhere else to go, Milli returns to her mom’s house with her sick son. She reopens her small, struggling photo studio, just in time to learn the entire building has already been bought by Damon Hale, a forty-seven-year-old billionaire with a reputation colder than the steel hotels he builds. Damon wants the land, but Milli refuses to give up the last piece of her life that hasn’t been stolen from her. Their fight become heated, and combustible, until he makes her an offer she should never accept: marry him for one year to soothe his mother, live under his roof, follow his every rule…and in return, he’ll save the studio, every shop on the block and her sick son gets the best treatment possible, but she does. They hate each other and they’re nothing alike. The contract is supposed to keep their worlds separated, but forced proximity has sharp fangs. Meanwhile, Brian returns, desperate and regretful, determined to pull Millicent back into his life. While she tries to outrun her past, she discovers a painful truth about her own bloodline that changes everything she thought she knew, all while discovering Damon's darkest secret. What happens to their paper tie, when he discovers she knows the truth who he really is?
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Dear Ex, See you never the ending that isn't
Millicent's POVMorning in the mansion. The light comes through the kitchen windows at a slant, painting everything in shades of gold. It's early, too early, really, for the chaos that's already unfolding, but the sun doesn't care about schedules, and neither does my son.Josh is at the kitchen table, eating cereal with more enthusiasm than accuracy. Milk splashes across the surface with each bite. Cheerios scatter like tiny refugees fleeing a disaster zone. His dinosaur pajamas are already stained, and the day has barely begun."Josh, try to keep the cereal in the bowl.""I AM keeping it in the bowl.""That Cheerio is on the floor.""That's not MY Cheerio. That's a FLOOR Cheerio."I don't have the energy to argue with four-year-old logic at 7 AM. He's inherited my stubbornness, which I'm told is karmic justice for everything I put my own mother through. The thought makes me smile despite myself.Mike is at the stove, attempting to make eggs. "Attempting" is the operative word, he's b
Last Updated : 2026-02-07Dear Ex, See you never the future discussed
Millicent's POVThe conversation starts over breakfast, amidst the clinking of silverware and the smell of toasted bagels, and stretches lazily into the afternoon. Mike pours coffee from the French press, the dark liquid swirling, and Damon spreads some documents across the oak table.They aren't the usual business documents, no spreadsheets of profit margins or acquisition targets. These are something else entirely.Printouts about surrogacy agencies, adoption requirements, the legal complexities of multi-parent families in different jurisdictions.The morning light catches the papers as he arranges them, casting shadows across charts and bullet points and photographs of smiling children from agency brochures. It's the kind of research Damon does, thorough, exhaustive, leaving no question unasked. It's how he approaches a merger, and apparently, how he approaches expanding our family."I've been thinking," he says, which is how most of our major conversations begin. My eyes drop to
Last Updated : 2026-02-06Dear Ex, See you never the photo
Millicent's POVI set up the camera on its tripod, the metal legs clicking against the stone, adjust the angle, and check the lighting for the fourth time because in my line of work, perfection depends on precision.The sun is dipping lower, casting long, dramatic shadows that I usually try to avoid, but today, I don't mind them.The mansion steps have been photographed countless times. They have been captured by newspapers documenting galas, by magazines doing architectural spreads, by the professional photographers Damon has hired over the years for official portraits. There’re stiff and formal, where everyone looks like a wax figure.But I've never photographed them myself. I've never turned my lens, my artistic eye, my personal perspective, on my own home, my own family, and on the people I love most. Today feels like the right day. The air is crisp, the light is golden, and for once, the world feels quiet enough to capture."Mommy, can I hold Mr. Hop?" Josh asks, swinging his ba
Last Updated : 2026-02-05Dear Ex, See you never the anniversary
Millicent's POVIt’s two years already. It's been twenty-four months, seven hundred and thirty days, already since I walked through the mansion's massive front door with nothing but a battered suitcase, a sleeping child heavy in my arms, and a contract tucked into my bag that was supposed to be temporary.Twenty-four months since I stood in Damon's foyer, shivering despite the heating, terrified of the cold billionaire I'd married, and certain in the marrow of my bones that I'd made a terrible mistake.I remember that first night with a clarity that still stings. I remember the way Damon looked at me like I was an inconvenience to be tolerated, a piece of furniture he hadn't ordered but couldn't return. I remember the way the mansion felt like a mausoleum, vast and echoing, stripping away any sense of warmth. I remember the way I lay awake in an unfamiliar bed, staring at a ceiling I didn't recognize, wondering how long I could survive this arrangement before I crumbled completely.N
Last Updated : 2026-02-04Dear Ex, See you never the man behind the wall
Damon's POVThe acquisition reports are giving me a headache.Not because they're hard to understand. They're just boring. Twelve pages saying the same thing over and over: the Westbrook development will make money. A lot of money. The kind that adds another zero to quarterly earnings and makes sha
Dear Ex, See you never the long walk
Millicent's POV The alarm goes off at 4:47 AM. Thirteen minutes before I set it. My body knows what's coming even when my brain is still half asleep. Josh is already moving in the crib next to my bed. Making those soft whimpering sounds that mean he'll be fully awake in about ten minutes whether I
Dear Ex, See you never the billionaire’s shadow
Millicent’s povThe town has began talking, no, whispering and every whisper has the same name wrapped in fear, awe, and a little bit of spice and venom. Damon Hale.I hear it first from the baker two doors down, speaking in a hushed tone with her husband, like saying it too loud might summon the d
Dear Ex, See you never the eviction threat
Millicent’s povRecently, some days, life taps me lightly on the shoulders, but other days, it grabs me by the hair and drags me across concrete. This morning, it’s the latter. I’m opening the studio, or trying to at least, when a pure white city sedan pulls up right across the yard, the kind offi
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