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Chapter Thirty: Falling Again

Author: Sharon Rae
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-03 23:11:28

Before I could even process what was happening, Delilah was in front of me like a hurricane in emerald silk—wild-eyed, flushed, reeking of expensive gin and pure, undiluted rage.

Her perfectly applied makeup was smudged, her elaborate updo coming loose, and there was something unhinged in her eyes that made my blood run cold.

"You think you can steal my night?" she shrieked, loud enough for half the ballroom to hear. "My man? My life? Again?"

I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but she was beyond reason.

Her manicured nails—painted blood red to match her lipstick—dug into my wrist hard enough to draw blood.

"You're nothing!" she screamed, spittle flying from her lips. "A used-up whore who trapped Blake with lies and manipulation! You should have stayed buried!"

And then she shoved me.

Hard.

With both hands and all the fury of a woman who'd lost everything and had nothing left to lose.

I stumbled backward, my heels sliding on the polished marble, my arms windmilling as I tried to catch my balance.

But momentum and gravity and three months of pregnancy hormones affecting my equilibrium conspired against me.

My heel caught the edge of the top step of the grand staircase.

Time slowed to a crawl.

The ballroom spun around me like a carousel from hell. I could see faces turning toward me in slow motion—some shocked, some horrified, some secretly pleased to witness my downfall.

My body pitched forward—

And I fell.

Down the grand staircase that swept through the center of the ballroom like a marble waterfall.

Fifteen polished steps that felt like fifty.

Each impact sent shockwaves through my body. My shoulder hit first, then my hip, then my back, tumbling and rolling like a broken doll thrown down by an angry child.

The sound echoed through the ballroom—flesh and bone and silk meeting unforgiving stone.

I hit the bottom hard, my shoulder taking most of the impact, pain blooming down my side like liquid fire. The air punched out of my lungs in a whoosh that left me gasping and dizzy.

For a moment, the ballroom was dead silent.

Then chaos erupted.

Gasps. Screams. Someone dropped a champagne flute, and it shattered on the marble like my dignity.

"Oh my God!"

"She's bleeding!"

"Someone call a doctor!"

"She's pregnant!"

I couldn't move at first. My body felt disconnected, like my brain was trying to communicate with limbs that weren't quite responding.

Then the panic hit me like a freight train—

The baby.

Terror unlike anything I'd ever experienced flooded my system. I sat up too fast, my hands flying to my stomach, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Everything felt... intact. Bruised and rattled and screaming with pain, but not broken. Not destroyed.

Still, the tears came. Quiet and sudden and born from fear so primal it made my bones ache.

Then a shadow fell across me, blocking out the cruel chandelier light.

Dominic.

He dropped to his knees beside me, and I'd never seen him look so terrified. His face was white as death, his usually perfect composure completely shattered.

His hands were on me instantly—my arms, my face, my sides—checking for breaks, for blood, for any sign that I was more damaged than I appeared.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried enough lethal fury to make the air around us crackle with danger. "Tell me where it hurts."

"I—I think I'm okay," I gasped, my hands still pressed protectively over my belly. "The baby—God, Dominic, what if—"

"We'll have the doctor check. Right now." His voice brooked no argument. "Everything else can wait."

Behind him, I could hear Delilah still screaming as security dragged her away from the scene of her crime.

"She deserves it!" she shrieked, her voice getting more hysterical with each word. "She's a lying whore! A manipulative bitch who ruins everything she touches! I should have pushed her harder!"

"She could have killed her!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"She tried to kill her before—at Blake's office!"

"Someone needs to lock that psycho up before she murders someone!"

"She's completely unhinged!"

Dominic looked back once—just once—at the woman who'd tried to destroy me.

The expression on his face could have frozen hell and made the devil himself beg for mercy.

When he turned back to me, his hands were gentle as he scooped me into his arms like I was made of spun glass and whispered promises.

"I've got you," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you, and no one is ever going to hurt you again."

People parted before us like the Red Sea, their faces a blur of shock and concern and poorly hidden excitement at witnessing such drama.

He didn't say another word to anyone.

He just carried me up those same marble steps that had tried to break me, his arms strong and sure and absolutely unshakeable.

And for the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself lean into someone else's strength.

I couldn't fight anymore. Not tonight.

We were halfway down the east wing corridor, away from the chaos and cameras and hungry eyes, when I whispered the words that made his blood run cold.

"Check the gift."

He stopped walking so abruptly I thought he might drop me.

"What did you say?"

"The box," I said, my voice shaky but certain. "The one you gave me to keep safe. Something's wrong. I can feel it in my bones."

He didn't ask me to explain my intuition.

He didn't question my paranoia.

He simply passed me into Jules' waiting arms like I was the most precious thing in the world and said, "Get her to the medical team. Now. Full examination, blood work, ultrasound—everything."

Jules nodded, already moving toward the private medical suite on the upper floor that came standard with hosting events where people might try to kill each other.

But before the doors closed behind us, I heard Dominic's voice echo down the hallway—low, cold, and promising violence that would make tonight's drama look like a children's tea party.

"Check the cameras. Check the safe. If that gift is gone..." He paused, and I could practically feel the temperature drop ten degrees. "We'll burn this entire fucking place to the ground and everyone in it."

The last thing I saw before the doors closed was my husband transforming from protector to predator, ready to hunt down whoever had dared to threaten his family.

And God help me, I'd never loved him more.

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  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Thirty-Two: The Lion's Roar 2

    The room went dead silent, the kind of silence that comes before earthquakes.Dominic stepped forward, his eyes locked on the screen like he was watching his entire world reshape itself.His voice, when it came, was arctic wind and buried daggers."End the playback."Jules did, but the damage was done. The truth hung in the air like poison gas.Delacroix tried to speak, her voice coming out in a strangled whisper. "T-this is clearly a misunderstanding. The lighting was poor, the angle was wrong—"Dominic turned to her, and I swear the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees."Get out."She blinked, confusion replacing terror. "Excuse me?""You're fired. You leave this house now, or you'll be escorted out by security. Your company will be blacklisted from every luxury event on this coast. I'll make sure you never work in this industry again.""You can't do that—""I just did."Security guards appeared at the door as if summoned by magic.Delacroix blanched, then turned on her heel

  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Thirty-One: The Lion's Roar

    It started with a scream that could have shattered crystal.Not from me.Not from any of the pampered guests still recovering from the chaos of my fall.From the head of security—a man who looked like he'd rather face a firing squad than deliver this news."The gift is gone."The words echoed through the east wing like a death knell, bouncing off marble walls and settling into my bones with the weight of catastrophe.Jules froze beside me, her hand instinctively moving to the weapon concealed beneath her jacket. I was still aching from my tumble down the stairs, my shoulder throbbing and my ribs protesting every breath, but this—this was so much worse than physical pain.This was betrayal with surgical precision.Dominic materialized in the doorway like vengeance incarnate, his perfectly tailored tuxedo somehow making him look more dangerous, not less. His eyes were burning with a fury so cold it could freeze hell itself."What did you say?" His voice was deadly quiet, the kind of cal

  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Thirty: Falling Again

    Before I could even process what was happening, Delilah was in front of me like a hurricane in emerald silk—wild-eyed, flushed, reeking of expensive gin and pure, undiluted rage.Her perfectly applied makeup was smudged, her elaborate updo coming loose, and there was something unhinged in her eyes that made my blood run cold."You think you can steal my night?" she shrieked, loud enough for half the ballroom to hear. "My man? My life? Again?"I opened my mouth to respond, to defend myself, but she was beyond reason.Her manicured nails—painted blood red to match her lipstick—dug into my wrist hard enough to draw blood."You're nothing!" she screamed, spittle flying from her lips. "A used-up whore who trapped Blake with lies and manipulation! You should have stayed buried!"And then she shoved me.Hard.With both hands and all the fury of a woman who'd lost everything and had nothing left to lose.I stumbled backward, my heels sliding on the polished marble, my arms windmilling as I tr

  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Twenty-Nine: Shattered Glass and Second Chances

    I didn't want to go back inside that glittering prison.Not after the acid that could have melted my throat. Not after seeing how close I'd come to dying with a smile on my killer's face. Not after realizing that someone in that ballroom had looked at my pregnant body and decided both my baby and I needed to disappear.But I did it anyway.Because Scarlett Blackwood didn't run anymore. She walked straight into the fire and dared it to burn her.I glided back into that ballroom like I owned every inch of marble beneath my feet, like I hadn't just watched poison eat through stone, like my heart wasn't still hammering against my ribs so hard I could taste copper.The chandeliers cast their golden light over hundreds of beautiful predators in designer gowns and thousand-dollar tuxedos. The air hummed with barely contained excitement—the kind that came from witnessing drama, from sensing blood in the water.Jules materialized at my side like a guardian angel carved from shadows and steel.

  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Poisoned Gift

    The ballroom was a golden cage designed to trap beautiful prey.Too loud. Too hot. Too many predatory eyes tracking my every movement, waiting for me to stumble, to bleed, to shatter into pieces they could feast on. The air tasted of expensive perfume and barely concealed malice, and I could feel the weight of a hundred conversations that stopped the moment I passed.My chest was getting tight, my breathing shallow. I needed to escape before I suffocated on all the fake smiles and venomous whispers.Slipping away from the crowd like smoke, I pushed through the side doors and stepped onto the garden terrace. The night air hit my overheated skin like a blessing, cool and clean after the suffocating atmosphere inside. A soft breeze whispered through the marble columns and set the crystal lanterns swaying from their wrought-iron arches, casting dancing shadows across the stone.The noise of the gala faded to a distant hum, replaced by the gentle symphony of chirping crickets and rustling

  • The Billionaire’s Convenient Ex-Wife    Chapter Twenty-seven: The Dance of Daggers

    Red. That was the only color that belonged to me tonight. The red silk of the dress Dominic got for me, poured over my body like blood and war, the high slit cutting up one leg, the neckline sinful and elegant. Every step I took down the grand staircase felt like a challenge thrown into the faces of everyone who wanted me buried instead of celebrated. This is what I want. I want everyone to see me and not see a woman scorned but a woman who has everything in control. This might must be perfect, smile, wave, socialize, be the perfect Blackwood wife and give Dominic the important gift once it’s time. That, and not forgetting that my life may be in danger from all my enemies who want me dead so even though they’re all dressed like they came to the party, I have up to twenty guards scattered across the ballroom, just for me. I feel safe. And that is all thanks to my cold, arrogant contract husband. The chandeliers above dripped crystal light across the ballroom. Waiters moved

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