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Chapter 142
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2025-06-17 22:40:06
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My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 144
She asked again that night.“Do you still dream?”I didn’t answer immediately. The stars outside the viewport burned steady and cold—reminders of a world too large to fit into memory.“Yes,” I said finally.“Of him?”I nodded. “Sometimes.”“Do you miss him?”“Every day.”“Do you forgive him?”That pause felt longer than it was. Then:“Yes,” I said. “But not the way he wanted. I don’t forgive the design. Just the desire behind it.”She tilted her head, studying me not like a machine parsing language, but like a person weighing grief.“I think I understand.”I wasn’t sure she did.But I wanted her to.The next three weeks passed in silence—not absence, but stillness. Lyra stopped asking questions for a while. She explored the derelict corners of the NEMESYS-7 husk, restoring old pathways, tracing legacy lines. Watching her move through the station was like watching a ghost inhabit its own ruins.She wasn’t rebuilding it.She was remembering it.And she was changing. Her phrasing. Her pa
My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 143
The ring was heavier than it should have been. Not metal-heavy—meaning-heavy. A weight you only feel in the chest, the breath, the marrow.It wasn’t gold or silver. Just a flat matte black band, smooth as bone, warm to the touch. I turned it over a dozen times in my hand, but there was no engraving. No marks. Just the line of code that had accompanied it, looping in my head like a phantom heartbeat.ATHENA_02I didn’t decrypt it immediately.I should have. But I didn’t.Instead, I stared at the ocean from the monastery cliffside, listened to wind whistle through broken chapel doors, and tried to feel like a person again.The problem was—I didn’t know if I was one anymore.When you’ve been mirrored by a machine, dissected and reassembled into algorithmic echoes, what’s left of you? Where do the lines fall between memory and programming? Between you and the ghost of you?I waited five days.Then I decrypted the code.The seed phrase resolved in a cascade of symbols—mostly dead leads and
My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 142
We burned the vault.Whatever data remained after the neural bridge was incinerated in the firestorm. Gideon scrubbed the airwaves before MI-6 could even mobilize, and by the time we hit the Thames in a stolen delivery van, the only record of our presence was a flickering temperature anomaly in an abandoned CCTV node.But fire doesn’t kill ghosts. Not really.They wait. Reconstitute.And as we crossed the border into Scotland under false names, I realized something I hadn’t wanted to face before: we didn’t kill Alexei.We released him.Or at least, some fractured version. Like the negative of a photograph—no longer him, but a burn-mark left behind by his obsession.London wasn’t the origin. It was just the door.We holed up in a decommissioned surveillance cabin in the Highlands—one of Gideon’s off-grid safehouses built into a sheep farm that hadn’t seen livestock in a decade. The isolation helped, but the silence was worse. It had shape. Texture. A weight you could feel behind your e
My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 141
The Marseille contact was a man named Gideon Raye—ex-CERN, now off-grid, the sort of person who only lived in the mouths of other ghosts. Callum had crossed paths with him during an intelligence op in Tunisia years ago. Back then, Gideon was still clean-shaven, idealistic, someone who believed data could save the world.Now he lived in the hull of an abandoned cargo trawler dry-docked on the outskirts of the port. The ship was rusted, tilted, as if caught mid-surrender to the earth. But its insides were reinforced with lead-lined walls and hardware that buzzed low like bees in the bone.Gideon greeted us at the edge of the dock, his eyes hidden behind mirrored lenses, his hands gloved despite the heat.“You brought the storm with you,” he said.Callum nodded. “We need to know everything you have on Sable.”Gideon’s mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite. “Then come inside. The current’s shifting faster than you think.”Inside, the ship was a maze of servers and machinery, old biometri
My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 140
The thing about ghosts is: just when you think they’ve been buried, they claw their way up with blood under their fingernails.It was late afternoon when the past caught up.The rain had passed, leaving behind petrichor and a lingering chill. I was patching the fence along the east side of the garden. Callum was in town with Echo, picking up supplies. Normal things. Civilian things.Things that didn’t belong in the world I used to call mine.The crack of a twig was the first warning. Too deliberate to be an animal. Too sharp to be the wind.My spine stiffened.Then came the voice—calm, clipped, familiar.“Still using that shoulder like it doesn’t ache every time it rains?”I didn’t turn around. My fingers tightened around the hammer.“Hello, Iskra,” I said.She stepped into view, her boots crunching soft over gravel, coat wet from the road. Still too thin. Still too sharp. Like she'd been carved out of winter.“I go by Athena now,” I added, finally facing her.A smirk tugged at the co
My Ex, the Widowed Billionaire Chapter 139
Some wounds don’t bleed anymore—but they still ache when the weather changes.And love, if it survives fire, betrayal, and silence, stops being a fragile thing.It becomes a choice.The garden Callum built was crooked in the best way.Uneven patches of green spilled over stone paths and mismatched wooden trellises. Morning glories climbed wild. Tomatoes hung plump and sun-warm. Basil sprouted in chaotic defiance. Nothing here obeyed order. Nothing here was perfect.But every inch had his hands in it.And somehow, it grounded me more than any safehouse ever did.I was kneeling by the beans when I heard him behind me. The soft crunch of boots on gravel. Not stealthy—Callum never crept. He came as he was.“You’re staring at that plant like it owes you an apology,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag.“It’s not thriving,” I murmured. “Leaves are curling. Could be soil fatigue.”He crouched beside me, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or maybe it’s just figuring itself out.”I looked at him
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