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50. The Promise
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2025-06-27 23:34:35
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 51. So The Game Ends
Ella’s Point of ViewThe cabin was a cage of flickering shadows, the red and blue sirens pulsing through the boarded window, painting the bare walls with a frantic glow. The police megaphone’s command—“Marcus Carter, release the hostage and surrender!”—echoed in my ears, a lifeline that sparked hope where despair had taken root. My heart pounded, the manacle chaining my ankle to the cot biting deeper as I stood, my long black hair clinging to my tear-streaked face, my sweater torn and damp with sweat. Shawn had found me, somehow, his urgency cutting through the miles, his promise to protect me now a reality. But the locked door, the chain, and Marcus’s obsession stood between me and freedom. My thoughts clung to my daughter in Seattle—her laughter, her trust—a reason to fight, to survive, even as fear coiled in my gut.The door burst open, and Marcus stormed in, his face twisted with panic, his dark eyes wild under the flickering bulb. His calm delusion was gone, replaced by a despe
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 50. The Promise
Ella’s Point of ViewThe small room was a prison of shadows, its bare walls closing in as I paced, my boots scuffing the warped wooden floor. The zip ties had been replaced by a single manacle chaining my ankle to the cot’s frame, its cold metal biting my skin with every step, a cruel leash limiting my world to a few feet. The boarded window above let in no light, only the faint howl of wind through the forest outside, a reminder of how far I was from Seattle, from hope. Night had fallen, the air thick with mildew and despair, the cabin’s silence broken only by the drip of a leaky pipe and my own ragged breaths. My thoughts spun, a frantic carousel—Lily, waiting, her trusting eyes haunting me; Shawn, his grin a fading dream; and Marcus, the monster who’d stolen my freedom. I’d tried every escape plan my mind could conjure—prying the window boards, testing the chain, searching for anything sharp—but the room was a fortress, built for this moment, for me.My heart pounded, a mix of f
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 49. It's My Turn To Save Her
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe mansion was a hollow shell, its silence a taunt, each echo of my footsteps a reminder of Ella’s absence. Her jasmine scent had faded, but her face—her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes soft with that almost-kiss—burned in my mind, a fire that fueled my panic. Chavez’s call hours ago had shattered everything: Ella hadn’t boarded her flight to Seattle. She’d vanished from O’Hare’s restroom, her purse left behind, no trace of her. My heart pounded, not from the fresh scar of my aortic surgery but from a dread that gripped me tighter than any medical chart could explain. Marcus Carter—Ella’s ex, the shadow she’d fled—had to be behind this. Her fear of him, the way she’d tensed at his name, pointed to one truth: he’d taken her. I had to find her, and I had to do it now.I paced the study, my laptop open, security reports and airport contacts scattered across the desk. The room’s opulence—mahogany shelves, Lake Michigan’s gray expanse beyond the win
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 48. In Captivity
Ella’s Point of ViewThe world was a blur of shadow and pain, my wrists raw from the zip ties cutting into my skin, my head pounding from the chloroform’s lingering fog. The car’s rumble had stopped, replaced by the creak of wood and the musty scent of damp air as Marcus dragged me from the backseat, his grip bruising my arm. My boots stumbled on gravel, the night air cold and sharp, the stars above a cruel mockery of freedom. A cabin loomed ahead, its weathered planks and dark windows a grim silhouette against the forest’s edge, isolated, far from Chicago’s lights. This was Marcus’s doing—a hideout, planned, prepared, a cage he’d built for me. My heart hammered, terror a living thing, but my thoughts clung to my daughter—her curls, her laughter, the life I’d sworn to protect. I was trapped, helpless, and the weight of it crushed me.He shoved me through the cabin’s door, the hinges groaning, and I staggered into a dim room, lit only by a flickering bulb dangling from the ceiling. T
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
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