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45. Someone Special
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2025-06-24 22:31:44
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 47. She Can't Be Gone
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe silence in the mansion was a heavy shroud, echoing off the marble floors and glittering chandeliers, a void where Ella’s presence had once glowed. Her jasmine scent lingered, faint but piercing, a cruel ghost of the warmth she’d left behind just hours ago. The memory of her standing in my room, her long black hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes locking with mine in a moment that teetered on the edge of a kiss, burned in my chest. Now, the guest suite was empty, her laughter silenced, and the sprawling estate felt hollow, a monument to loneliness I hadn’t noticed until she’d filled it with light. I shifted in my wheelchair, the ache from my recent aortic surgery a dull throb, but the real pain was deeper, a longing I couldn’t shake. Ella had changed everything.I’d been alone for years, ever since my parents’ car accident a decade ago, drowning in work to outrun the grief, the coarctation of the aorta that weakened my body but not my drive. Boardrooms
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 46. No, Not Again!
Ella’s Point of ViewThe pulse of O’Hare International Airport thrummed around me, a chaotic rhythm of hurried footsteps, rolling suitcases, and crackling gate announcements. My suitcase stood beside me, its handle cool under my fingers, my boarding pass tucked safely in my purse, a lifeline to Seattle, to the quiet haven I’d built for myself. Shawn’s security team—three men in dark suits, their gazes sharp and unwavering—formed a silent barrier around me, their presence a shield against the fear that had haunted me in that city. Marcus’s shadow, a specter from Venice to now, felt distant, softened by Shawn’s care, his promise of safety. I could still see his face from this morning—his sad, meaningful gaze as I left his mansion, the almost-kiss a burning ache in my chest. I touched my scarf, my long black hair spilling over my sweater, and exhaled, the pull of home warring with the regret of leaving him behind.Chavez, the lead guard, stood closest, his buzz cut stark under the term
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 45. Someone Special
Ella’s Point of ViewThe morning sun spilled through the guest suite’s windows, casting golden streaks across my packed suitcase, but my heart was a tangle of emotions, heavy with the ache of leaving. Seattle called—Lily’s laughter, our quiet life, the safety I’d built far from Chicago’s ghosts. Yet Shawn Hayes’s mansion, with its marble halls and his warm presence, had become a haven I wasn’t ready to abandon. His surgery was a success, his coarctation of the aorta repaired, his life no longer hanging by a thread, but the past few days—his laughter, his promises, the way he’d stood by me at Miranda’s grave—had woven him into my world. I smoothed my sweater, my long black hair loose over my shoulders, and checked my reflection, my eyes betraying a longing I couldn’t name.A knock at the door broke my reverie, soft but deliberate. I opened it to find Shawn, seated in a sleek wheelchair, his face pale but bright with that familiar grin, his blue eyes sparkling despite the strain of re
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 44. Someone To Trust
Ella’s Point of ViewThe operating room was a quiet battlefield, its sterile air heavy with the weight of life and death. My hands, steady in their gloves, wielded the scalpel like a painter’s brush, each cut and suture a stroke in the delicate art of saving Shawn Hayes. His coarctation of the aorta—a narrowing that choked his heart’s lifeline—demanded precision, a dance of skill and focus I’d perfected over years. But this time, it was different. Shawn wasn’t just a patient; his laughter, his midnight vows in the garden, his gentle touch at my mother’s grave had woven him into my heart. As the monitors beeped, steady and true, I poured every ounce of myself into the procedure, my mind sharp, my soul tethered to the man on the table. Hours blurred, the world narrowing to the rhythm of his pulse, the hum of my team, the quiet trust that I could give him a future.When the final suture was tied, the tension in my shoulders melted, a quiet triumph washing over me. Shawn’s aorta was rep
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 43. A Greater Meaning
Ella’s Point of ViewMy heart was still heavy as the SUV pulled back into Shawn Hayes’s North Shore estate, the morning’s visit to Rosehill Cemetery lingering like a quiet ache. Kneeling at my mother’s grave—Miranda Harper’s name etched in cold marble, the star pendant I’d left as a gift to her—had stirred a grief I’d buried for years, but Shawn’s presence, his gentle touch on my shoulder, had been a light in that darkness. I glanced at him beside me, his profile softened by the car’s dim interior, his blue eyes catching mine with a warmth that made my pulse skip. Chicago’s shadows, Marcus’s looming threat, felt distant for a moment, but the clock was ticking—Shawn’s surgery was hours away, and my role as his surgeon demanded focus, not feelings.We stepped out into the mansion’s marble foyer, the air cool and hushed, the weight of the day settling between us. Shawn paused, turning to me, his smile soft but tinged with something deeper, a quiet intensity. “Ella, you okay after the cem
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 42. I'll Catch You Soon
Marcus’s Point of ViewThe pre-dawn chill clung to my skin as I stood on my penthouse balcony, the city’s lights a cold, mocking sprawl below. Sleep hadn’t come, not after last night’s glimpse of Ella in Shawn Hayes’s garden, her silhouette a fire in my veins. Five years of hunting her—through Paris, Mexico, countless dead ends—had led to this, her standing so close, yet untouchable behind Hayes’s fortress. My fingers gripped the railing, knuckles white, the urge to storm his mansion a pulse I could barely leash. But I was done with reckless mistakes. Venice had taught me that—her shove, her escape, the cost of my impatience. This time, I’d be a shadow, a hunter, until the moment was mine.I’d already set my plan in motion. Rico and his men were stationed near Hayes’s North Shore estate, hidden in unmarked vans, their orders clear: watch every move, tail anyone leaving, especially her. Ella was slippery, a ghost who’d outsmarted me before, but Chicago was my city, and I knew her hea
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