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74. A Better Man
Last Updated:
2025-07-13 23:09:06
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 178: It means happiness
Ella's POVThe courthouse was nothing fancy, just a squat brick building tucked between a coffee shop and a dry cleaner in the heart of Chicago. Its plain exterior didn’t match the wild, joyful energy thrumming through me as Shawn, Lily, and I hurried up the steps, hand in hand. Shawn’s grin was infectious, his eyes sparkling with that impulsive, mischievous charm that had made me fall for him in the first place. Lily skipped beside us, her sweater bouncing with each step, her excitement bubbling over despite the heaviness of the past day. My heart felt lighter than it had in hours, maybe days, as we stepped inside, the weight of the hospital, Marcus’s injury, and Vanessa’s violence fading just a little in the face of this moment.The clerk at the front desk raised an eyebrow when we explained we wanted to get married right then and there, no appointment, no frills. “You sure?” she asked, her glasses slipping down her nose as she peered at us. “You don’t exactly look like you planne
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 177: Always ready to you
Ella POVThe hospital room was a quiet contrast to the chaos of the day before, its soft lighting and steady beeps a strange kind of comfort after the whirlwind of fear and violence that had upended our lives. I stood near Marcus’s bed, my arms crossed, trying to hold myself together as Shawn stood beside me, his hand resting lightly on my lower back, a steady anchor in the storm. Lily was sprawled across Marcus, her small body curled against his chest, her arms wrapped around him as he stroked her back gently, his touch careful despite the tubes and bandages snaking across his body. He looked more alive than I’d expected, his face pale but his eyes clear, filled with a mix of relief and guilt that I recognized all too well. Lily’s presence seemed to ground him, her soft breathing a reminder of why he’d thrown himself in front of that bullet, a selfless act that still felt surreal.“I’m really sorry your wedding got canceled like that,” Marcus said, his voice low, rough with emotio
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 176: Lily's hero
Ella POVThe hospital room was a haze of dim light and antiseptic smells, a sterile cocoon that felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. I lay in the bed, my chest throbbing with a dull, relentless ache that pulsed with every heartbeat, my head pounding like someone was hammering nails into my skull. But the worst part wasn’t the pain—it was the absence of feeling in my legs. They were there, under the thin hospital blanket, but they might as well have belonged to someone else. I stared at them, willing them to move, to twitch, to give me some sign they were still mine, but they stayed still, mocking me with their silence. The doctor’s words from earlier echoed in my head—significant spinal damage, likely paralysis—and I fought the panic clawing at my throat, trying to focus on the steady beep of the monitors beside me. It was the only thing keeping me from spiraling into the void of what my life might become, a future I wasn’t ready to face.The door swu
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 175: How to deal with people like Bethany
Marcus POVThe hospital waiting room was a cold, sterile purgatory, its white walls and harsh fluorescent lights burning into my eyes as the hours dragged on, each minute heavier than the last. I sat on a hard plastic chair, my legs tucked under me, the dried blood on my hands flaking off in tiny, rust-colored specks as I twisted a crumpled tissue between my fingers. Marcus’s blood. The lavender dress I’d worn as Ella’s bridesmaid was ruined, dark red streaks marring the fabric, a grim reminder of the moment he’d thrown himself in front of a bullet to save Lily. My heart was a tangled mess of pride and terror—pride because he’d proven he could be more than the sum of his mistakes, and terror because he was still in surgery, fighting for his life behind those unyielding double doors. I stared at them, willing them to swing open with good news, but they stayed stubbornly shut, mocking my hope with their silence.Across the room, Bethany, Marcus’s mother, was a storm of complaints, he
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 174: We can go through this together
Marcus POVThe drive home from the hospital was a blur, the Chicago skyline passing in streaks of light as Shawn navigated the quiet streets. I sat in the passenger seat, still in my wedding dress, though Shawn’s jacket was draped over my shoulders, its warmth a small comfort against the chill that had settled deep inside me. Lily was in the back, curled up in her flower girl dress, her eyes red from crying, her small hands clutching the stuffed bunny she’d grabbed from the car. The image of Vanessa Monroe pointing a gun at her, of Marcus collapsing in a pool of blood, played on a loop in my mind, each replay tightening the knot in my chest. My wedding day, the day that was supposed to be perfect, had shattered into a nightmare, and I was still trying to piece myself together.We pulled into the driveway of our home, the familiar sight of the brick house doing little to ease the tension in my body. Shawn turned off the engine, his hand finding mine in the dark. “We’re home,” he sai
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 173: All shattered
Ella POVThe hospital waiting room was a sterile blur of white walls and fluorescent lights, a cold, clinical space that seemed to stretch time into an endless, suffocating limbo. I sat on a hard plastic chair, Shawn’s suit jacket draped over my shoulders, its warmth doing little to ease the icy dread that had settled deep in my bones. My wedding dress, once a symbol of joy and new beginnings, felt heavy and absurdly out of place, the creamy fabric bunched awkwardly under the jacket, its elegance mocked by the chaos of the day. Lily was curled in my lap, her small body trembling, her face pressed against my chest as she sniffled, still reeling from the trauma of what she’d seen. She was only six years old, and a gun—Vanessa Monroe’s gun—had been pointed at her, its barrel gleaming with a hatred I still couldn’t fully wrap my head around. If Marcus hadn’t thrown himself in front of her, taken that bullet… I couldn’t let my mind linger there, but the thought kept clawing its way bac
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