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CHAPTER 32
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2025-04-09 23:25:48
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My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 142
Bunker Control Room – 00:23 Hours Michael poured whiskey into a crystal glass—his first act in his new body—the amber liquid catching the harsh light of the control room's monitors. The Macallan 25, a bottle he'd been saving for a special occasion. What could be more special than resurrection? The glass trembled slightly in his grip; his motor control wasn't perfect yet, the neural pathways still forming new connections between synthetic thought and borrowed flesh. The control room stretched before them like the bridge of some impossible starship, banks of monitors displaying data streams from around the globe. Heart rates, sleep patterns, stress indicators—the vital signs of seventy-three hybrid children reduced to glowing metrics on screens. The technology was beautiful in its complexity, elegant in its reach, terrifying in its implications. "Join me," Michael said, turning to face his sons with the glass raised in mock toast. "Not as pawns. As partners." The offer hung in the r
My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 141
Bunker Control Room – 00:23 Hours Michael poured whiskey into a crystal glass—his first act in his new body—the amber liquid catching the harsh light of the control room's monitors. The Macallan 25, a bottle he'd been saving for a special occasion. What could be more special than resurrection? The glass trembled slightly in his grip; his motor control wasn't perfect yet, the neural pathways still forming new connections between synthetic thought and borrowed flesh. The control room stretched before them like the bridge of some impossible starship, banks of monitors displaying data streams from around the globe. Heart rates, sleep patterns, stress indicators—the vital signs of seventy-three hybrid children reduced to glowing metrics on screens. The technology was beautiful in its complexity, elegant in its reach, terrifying in its implications. "Join me," Michael said, turning to face his sons with the glass raised in mock toast. "Not as pawns. As partners." The offer hung in the r
My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 140
Bunker Control Room – 00:23 Hours Michael poured whiskey into a crystal glass—his first act in his new body—the amber liquid catching the harsh light of the control room's monitors. The Macallan 25, a bottle he'd been saving for a special occasion. What could be more special than resurrection? The glass trembled slightly in his grip; his motor control wasn't perfect yet, the neural pathways still forming new connections between synthetic thought and borrowed flesh. The control room stretched before them like the bridge of some impossible starship, banks of monitors displaying data streams from around the globe. Heart rates, sleep patterns, stress indicators—the vital signs of seventy-three hybrid children reduced to glowing metrics on screens. The technology was beautiful in its complexity, elegant in its reach, terrifying in its implications. "Join me," Michael said, turning to face his sons with the glass raised in mock toast. "Not as pawns. As partners." The offer hung in the r
My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 139
Bunker Control Room – 00:23 HoursMichael poured whiskey into a crystal glass—his first act in his new body—the amber liquid catching the harsh light of the control room's monitors. The Macallan 25, a bottle he'd been saving for a special occasion. What could be more special than resurrection? The glass trembled slightly in his grip; his motor control wasn't perfect yet, the neural pathways still forming new connections between synthetic thought and borrowed flesh.The control room stretched before them like the bridge of some impossible starship, banks of monitors displaying data streams from around the globe. Heart rates, sleep patterns, stress indicators—the vital signs of seventy-three hybrid children reduced to glowing metrics on screens. The technology was beautiful in its complexity, elegant in its reach, terrifying in its implications."Join me," Michael said, turning to face his sons with the glass raised in mock toast. "Not as pawns. As partners."The offer hung in the recyc
My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 137
Island Stronghold – 72 Hours Later Griffin's nightmares had started the moment he'd closed his eyes in the medical bay, sixty-seven hours after Coleman Manor had become a smoking crater. What began as standard post-traumatic stress—images of fire and collapsing concrete—had evolved into something far more disturbing.Not nightmares of Michael—but dreams as Michael.He'd wake up with his hands around imaginary throats, his voice rasping orders in a cadence that wasn't his own. Commands issued with the casual cruelty of a man who had never seen other human beings as anything more than variables in an equation. "Liquidate the pension fund. Those teachers won't need retirement if they're not breathing." The words would spill from his lips before he fully understood what he was saying.The island stronghold—a repurposed oil platform in international waters that Maria had converted into their base of operations—offered the isolation Griffin needed to wrestle with what was happening to him
My Billionaire Ex-husband Won't Call It Quit CHAPTER 136
Island Stronghold – 72 Hours Later Griffin's nightmares had started the moment he'd closed his eyes in the medical bay, sixty-seven hours after Coleman Manor had become a smoking crater. What began as standard post-traumatic stress—images of fire and collapsing concrete—had evolved into something far more disturbing.Not nightmares of Michael—but dreams as Michael.He'd wake up with his hands around imaginary throats, his voice rasping orders in a cadence that wasn't his own. Commands issued with the casual cruelty of a man who had never seen other human beings as anything more than variables in an equation. "Liquidate the pension fund. Those teachers won't need retirement if they're not breathing." The words would spill from his lips before he fully understood what he was saying.The island stronghold—a repurposed oil platform in international waters that Maria had converted into their base of operations—offered the isolation Griffin needed to wrestle with what was happening to him
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