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45. Someone Special
Last Updated:
2025-06-24 22:31:44
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 113. Converging Point
Shawn’s POVThe day had been long, like most of them lately. I dragged myself through the front door of my place, my briefcase heavy in my hand, my head already spinning with the reports and emails waiting for me in my home office. Work had become my escape, my punishment, my everything. I’d stay up until my eyes burned, until I couldn’t keep them open anymore, and collapse on my desk, only to start over the next day. It wasn’t living—it was surviving. But it was all I had to keep the thoughts at bay, to stop myself from spiraling into the void Ella left behind.As I tossed my keys onto the counter, Sidd, my butler, appeared in the hallway, his usual calm demeanor replaced with a look that told me he wasn’t in the mood for my routine. Sidd’s been with me for years, more than just staff—he’s family, the kind that doesn’t sugarcoat things when you need a reality check. Tonight, he had that look in his eyes.“Shawn, you’re not heading to that office tonight,” he said, crossing his arms
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 112: New Connections
Ella’s POVThese days, my apartment feels a little less empty, and I have Celeste to thank for that. She’s been coming over more often, usually with a bottle of wine in hand, ready to just talk and hang out. I’ve been so lonely lately, weighed down by this cloud of sadness I can’t quite shake, so having her around is like a lifeline. It’s nice to have someone to share a laugh with, to fill the silence that sometimes creeps in when Lily’s asleep and it’s just me and my thoughts.At first, I had Celeste all wrong. When I saw her walk into the Hayes mansion that day, all poised and polished next to her family, I thought she was just another cog in their machine—someone who played by their rules. But she’s nothing like that. Celeste is… light. Easy to be around. She’s not like the rest of the Hayes clan, with their cold ambition and calculated moves. She’s got her own mind, her own dreams, and a fire in her that I can’t help but admire.One night, over a glass of merlot, she opened up a
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 111: Guilt
Ella’s Point of ViewThe days dragged on, each one a slow, heavy blur, like wading through molasses. The apartment, with its creaking floors and mismatched furniture, was a far cry from the Hayes mansion’s grandeur, but it was ours—mine, Lily’s, and Emerson’s. I filled the hours with routine: hospital shifts, grocery runs, bedtime stories, anything to keep my mind from wandering to Shawn. But he was there, in every quiet moment, his tired eyes, his warm laugh, the way he’d held me like I was his anchor. I’d thought love was a myth after Marcus’s betrayal, after Vanessa’s blond hair and whispered lies tore my world apart. But Shawn had rebuilt me, piece by piece, only for me to shatter it again by walking away. The guilt was a weight, a stone lodged in my chest, and no amount of routine could dislodge it.Lily was my light, her giggles a fleeting reprieve from the ache. Shared custody with Marcus was a new rhythm—his car pulling up every few days, his smile cautious but genuine as he
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 110: With Honor
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe office was a fortress of glass and steel, the Chicago skyline sprawling beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows, but it might as well have been a prison. Papers littered my desk—financial reports, shareholder analyses, emails from the board—each one a lifeline to the company my father built, the legacy I was fighting to save. But my eyes kept drifting, unfocused, the numbers blurring into memories of Ella’s smile, Lily’s laugh, the warmth of their presence that had once made the Hayes mansion a home. Now, days after they’d left, the house was a crypt, every room echoing with their absence—the creak of Lily’s rocking chair, the faint scent of Ella’s lavender perfume on the pillows. I gripped my pen, the metal cold against my palm, willing myself to focus, to bury the ache in work, but it was like trying to hold water in my hands.The past week had been a haze, each day heavier than the last. I’d thrown myself into the fight against Cliff and Garrett, my great-un
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 109: The Best Decision
Ella’s Point of ViewThe apartment smelled of fresh coffee and toast, the morning light filtering through the downtown windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. It was smaller than the mansion, its walls plain, the furniture mismatched, but it felt like a refuge, a place where Lily and I could breathe, away from the weight of Shawn’s world and the Hayes family’s schemes. Emerson had left early, his keys jangling as he slipped out to run errands, his quiet satisfaction at our departure from the mansion lingering in the air. I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, the sizzle a soft rhythm that grounded me, my heart heavy but determined to make this new life work. Lily sat at the small kitchen table, her crayons scattered, her teddy bear propped beside her plate, her curls bouncing as she hummed a tune.I set a pancake in front of her, its golden surface dotted with blueberries, and ruffled her hair, my fingers lingering on her soft curls. “Eat up, sweetheart,” I said,
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 108: Nowhere To Run
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe taillights of Ella’s car faded into the night, red pinpricks swallowed by the city’s sprawl, leaving me rooted to the mansion’s driveway, my chest hollowed out like a gutted shell. The air was sharp, biting at my skin, the distant hum of traffic a faint pulse against the silence that enveloped me. Ella was gone—taking Lily, taking the future I’d dared to dream of—and I stood there, powerless, my hands empty, my heart a wreckage of unanswered questions. Her tearful “I’m sorry” echoed in my mind, her trembling voice a ghost that haunted the darkness, but I couldn’t chase her, couldn’t force her to stay when her eyes had held such finality. My cane leaned against the porch railing, forgotten, its absence a reminder that I didn’t need it anymore—physically, at least—but tonight, I felt like I’d collapse without something to hold me up.Sidd, my butler, stepped quietly from the shadows, his weathered face etched with concern, his footsteps soft on the gravel. “
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