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CHAPTER 176
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2025-06-10 22:01:55
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RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 349
The Surveyor-General’s begrudging footnote—“Here there be Hearth. (Inefficient. Do not simplify.)”—became our informal motto. It was etched (crookedly, by Lina) over the bakery’s stone oven. Life settled into a rhythm so deep and contented it felt like the bedrock of reality itself.Footnotes, our resident mapmaker of the mundane, had become an indispensable part of the chaos. His sprawling desk under the silver tree was a mess of half-finished treatises like “On the Aerodynamic Properties of Sighs” and “A Taxonomy of Kitchen Smells (With Annotated Emotional Resonance).” He was currently trying to convince Kael that the resonant oven needed a “nostalgia setting.”“It’s not a mere temperature,” Footnotes argued, waving a stained parchment. “It’s a temporal-emotional frequency! Think of the perfect golden-brown of a childhood memory! We could bake that!”“The Maillard reaction is complex enough without adding temporal mechanics,” Kael chittered, but he was already making notes. He could
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 348
The taste of shared memory lingered, a psychic afterglow that made the garden feel closer, warmer. We’d beaten the Collectors not by fighting, but by refusing to let our joy be a solitary thing. Their silent, frustrated retreat was a sweeter victory than any battlefield triumph.In the days that followed, a new kind of peace settled. It wasn't the wary quiet after a storm, but the deep, contented hum of a system working perfectly. The bakery flourished. Lyra, her spark fully reignited, began experimenting with “empathic eclairs” that carried a fleeting sense of someone else’s happy memory. Kael was designing a “resonant oven” that could bake with raw emotional frequencies. Even Vanilla had started a small, meticulously labelled herb garden, his starlit fingers surprisingly gentle with seedlings.We were, against all odds, a functional, bizarre, and happy family unit.Which is why the visitor was so unexpected. He didn't pop into existence like the Archivists, or unfold like the Collec
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 347
The post-Resort recovery was a gentle, sticky affair. We spent days picking glitter and traces of metaphysical goo out of the moss, and Lyra kept startling at the sound of the wind, expecting it to be a harp. But slowly, the garden’s deep peace soaked back into us. Lyra, freed from mandatory fun, simply… existed. She’d sit for hours by the stream, her light dimmed to a soft glow, just watching the water. It was the rest she’d actually needed.Our bakery resumed. Lyra proved to be a natural, her intuitive understanding of narrative energy translating into a preternatural sense for when a custard was exactly set, or a meringue had reached peak existential loftiness. The Jeff-resonance, now infused with the memory of our great escape, began producing pies with adventurous, rebellious fillings—bursts of unexpected spice, layers of contrasting texture. They were his love letters from the front lines of our minor rebellion.Life was good. Better than good. It was perfectly, wonderfully ordi
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 346
The air in the Eternal Repose was so clean it felt sterile, scrubbed of all conflict and surprise. The harp music was scientifically calibrated to induce placid acceptance. Our matching robes, which Vanilla would have called a "profoundly uninteresting weave," clung with a ghostly, polite insistence."Seminar Block A: 'The Joy of Detachment' starts in five centicycles," Lina read from her glowing schedule, her voice flat. "Do we find Lyra first, or do we risk having our desire to find her gently detached from us?"The Jeff-resonance, our beacon and cover, pulsed a warm, steady amber beside me. It seemed content, humming along with the ambient music. He was probably enjoying the engineering precision of the place."We look for her," I whispered. "But we look… calmly. We blend."Blending was harder than it sounded. Every being here moved with a slow, deliberate grace, faces arranged in expressions of serene vacancy. We tried to mimic it, gliding through the marbled halls, our eyes scann
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 345
The logic-drone pie was a high watermark in our strange, beautiful collaboration. Jeff’s culinary interpretations were becoming less like engineering schematics and more like… art. Edible, often bizarre, but deeply felt art. The garden thrived. The Grand Curator (“Vanilla,” as Lina now called him to his face) visited more often, bringing not just ingredients, but a quiet, fascinated joy in watching the process.We’d settled into a golden age of pure, purposeless creation. Our only audience was each other, and a man who spoke in pastry from beyond the story.Which is why the new signal was so jarring.It wasn't a broadcast, or a visitor, or a psychic scream. It was a dropped call.A single, fragmented image, flickering at the edge of my perception like a dying ember: a familiar face, etched in lines of deep exhaustion, streaked with what looked like grease and… was that glitter? It was Lyra. But not the serene, luminous guide. This Lyra looked harried, frantic, and she was mouthing a s
RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK CHAPTER 344
The "Good Ingredient" pie marked a turning point. We weren't just baking anymore; we were curating a cross-dimensional, trans-temporal culinary exchange. The Grand Curator, whom Lina had nicknamed "Vanilla Bean" (to his flustered but secretly pleased chagrin), became a semi-regular visitor. He’d arrive with a new treasure—a pinch of radiant saffron from a photonic civilization’s last harvest, a jar of salt harvested from the tears of a reconciled tragedy planet. Each ingredient came with a quiet, data-rich story, which Kael would archive and Jeff would somehow…seasoninto his next creation.Our garden clearing now boasted a proper outdoor kitchen, courtesy of Kael’s engineering. A stone counter, a rain-collection cistern that doubled as a coolant for failed experiments, and an oven whose heat
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