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With My Life
publish date:
2026-09-23 22:43:40
Latest chapter
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss I hate Adelina
Melowie It was the annual Legal Gala—an insufferable, high-society prelude to tomorrow morning's final arbitration. I stood near the grand staircase in a tailored navy silk gown, my posture rigid, my fingers lightly touching the stem of a glass I had no intention of drinking. Across the room, standing beside a group of Swiss banking executives, was Adelina Varess. She looked immaculate, as she always did—a creature sculpted from ice and diamonds, wearing a dark emerald velvet sheath dress that accentuated her sharp, unyielding silhouette. She was laughing softly at a joke made by a board member, her poise so absolute, her arrogance so pristine, that no one in this room would ever guess her family’s empire was twenty-four hours away from a catastrophic legal war. Then, the world tilted. It happened in a fraction of a second. Old Henri Vane, a retired supreme court judge who had spent forty years sipping scotch with Geneva’s elite, shuffled over to Adelina’s circle. He was half-bl
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss What's he thinking?
Noel "Sit down, Noel," George stated smoothly. His voice carried that familiar, polished cadence—the practiced warmth he used when delivering terrible news to a board of directors. I didn't sit. I stayed standing by the edge of the fireplace, my coat still damp, my hands buried deep inside my trousers pockets. My fingers were locked tight around the hard edges of my son's wooden truck, my thumbnail digging into the cracked wheel until my skin throbbed. "I don't have much time, Father," I replied, my voice hoarse and raw from the rain and days of silent agony. "The arbitration is tomorrow morning. If you summoned me to review the proxy distributions again—" "This isn't about the proxy distributions," George interrupted gently, setting the pen down onto a leather blotter with a faint, deliberate click. He leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin, his cool grey eyes fixing on mine with a calm, paternal concern that made my stomach turn into a tight, si
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss Don't try that
Melowie Ten minutes ago, Noel left without an arguement. He gathered those carefully peeled green apples, packed away his wooden blocks with trembling hands, whispered a hoarse apology, and walked out into the downpour like a man sentenced to exile. I stood by the kitchen counter, my fingers wrapped so tightly around a mug of lukewarm tea that my knuckles turned white. My whole body ached from holding myself rigid for two straight hours. A soft rustle of silk drew my eyes to the doorway. Sophie walked into the kitchen. She wasn't wearing her usual immaculate corporate blazer or her legal sheath dress; her sleeves were rolled up, her hair slightly loosened from its sleek chignon. She had been sitting in the adjacent library for the past three visits under the guise of reviewing the Veyra Group’s proxy voting disclosures for Friday’s upcoming arbitration. But we both knew why she was really there. She was my strategist, my legal shield, and the sharpest eye in Geneva when it came
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss What went wrong ?
NoelUnder the dim golden light of the desk lamp in the Varess estate, three spiral notebooks lay open beside a stack of pediatric development manuals and handwritten notes. I had spent seventy-two hours dissecting my son like a complex multi-billion-franc merger. Every tiny detail Melowie had casually dropped over the years, every fragment of information Nathan had spat at me in the rain, every observation I had managed to snatch during my fleeting visits—I recorded all of it. My hands were raw, my eyes bloodshot, my body operating on pure adrenaline and coffee. None of my usual tools worked here. I couldn't deploy a team of analysts to smooth over a mistake. I couldn't draft a non-disclosure agreement to mitigate a bad reaction. Money, power, family legacy—the entire apparatus of the Varess empire was utterly useless against a three-year-old boy who didn't care about balance sheets. I picked up a pen, my hand trembling slightly as I added one final line in the margin of my note
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss There won't be a second
Noel I was standing under the overhang of the side garage, buttoning my coat, waiting for the heavy downpour to slacken just enough so I could walk to my car. My chest still throbbed with the raw, terrifying echo of signing Melowie’s agreement. Four conditions. Absolute surrender. A vow written in black ink in the margin that felt less like a legal promise and more like a blade I had turned on my own throat. A heavy footstep crunched on the wet gravel behind me. I turned around slowly. Nathan Veyra stepped out from the shadow of the brick archway. He wasn't wearing a coat—just a dark wool sweater, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his posture broad, rigid, and imposing. He carried no umbrella, ignoring the rain spraying across his shoulders, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a cold, murderous disgust that hadn't faded in three years. My body instinctively tensed. I forced my hands to remain inside my coat pockets. I stood there in the damp chill, stripped of my pride, and wa
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss You up for it ?
Melowie A quiet knock echoed from the front hallway. Beatrice opened the door, stepped aside, and allowed Noel into the sunroom. He stopped three paces from the table, his blue eyes searching my face with a terrifying, breathless vulnerability. He was waiting for the ax to fall. He was expecting me to tell him that yesterday’s failed visit was the end. "Sit down, Noel," I offered quietly. He moved immediately, pulling out the chair across from me. He sat stiffly, his large hands resting flat on the dark wood, his knuckles white with tension. He didn't ask for water. He didn't speak a single word. He just waited, completely at my mercy. "I overheard Nolan last night," I said, my voice dangerously steady, though my heart was thrashing against my ribs. Noel’s breath caught in his throat. His chest lifted in a sharp, desperate surge, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated terror. "Melowie... I'm sorry about the... I swear to God I didn't mean to scare him—" "He asked if you were
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