The Billionaire's Ex-wife is untouchable now

The glass doors of the Blackwell & Co. boardroom loomed ahead like gates of a battlefield. It felt as if a battle is going to began. But Isla Wilde didn’t hesitate. Her heels clicked against the marble floors, steady, sharp, and unapologetic. Every eye in the hallway followed her like a storm cloud had just passed through. She was dressed in tailored navy blue today, the color of ice and midnight power, with a diamond pin fastening her silk blouse at the neck. The receptionist’s voice trembled slightly. “Ms. Wilde, they’re waiting for you.” Of course they were. She pushed the doors open herself. She didn't have anyone with her. No escort. She didn’t need one. Inside, the long conference table was surrounded by high-backed leather chairs. Every executive was seated except one. Lucian Blackwell stood at the far end, the cityscape sprawling behind him in the tall glass windows. Sunlight lit him up like something out of fairytale. His broad-shouldered, dark-suited, cold-eye

The Grand Ballroom of the Armitage Hotel glittered with excess. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, strings of violins filled the whole air, and champagne flowed like water. The annual Blackwell Investors Gala wasn’t just a social event, it was war dressed in silk and diamonds. Isla Wilde stepped onto the marble floor like a regal storm in velvet. She wore obsidian. A gown that clung to her curves with lethal elegance, slit high on one side, her dark hair pulled back into a knot so sharp it could’ve cut glasses. Her blood-red lips, storm-grey eyes. Untouchable and Unforgiving like a Rebel. Heads turned towards her. Whispers followed her like perfume. Across the room, Lucian felt her before he saw her. He was dressed in his usual armor, tailored black suit, icy composure, a scotch in hand. But his grip faltered the moment she entered. She hadn't come to blend in with the people here. She came to conquer. To rule. Their eyes locked together. One second too long. The str

The air in Elan Vogue’s conference room shimmered with tension as Isla crossed one long leg over the other, brushing the silk of her charcoal colored dress softly. A single glance from those stormy grey eyes silenced the whole room. This was her realm now. This was her throne. Her kingdom. Today she was here, not as the wife of a Blackwell. Not as the woman who was wronged. Now she was a woman reborn from ashes. A woman rising as a phoenix. As her team presented the revenue projections for the upcoming quarter, the glass walls framed the New York sky like a coronation jewel. Isla Wilde didn’t just come back. She came back to win. She came back to defeat all those people who watched while she fell in the deepest pits of despair. But across the room, Leo Stone watched from the edge of the table, swirling amber liquid whiskey in a crystal glass. The faint curve of his mouth spoke volumes which he was left unspoken. Here was a man with deep and dangerous threads

The Blackwell & Co. conference room felt like a cold chamber as Lucian stood at the head of the long table, Isla directly across from him. This was no longer about press announcements or anymore. Today, the room would witness the final play in this twisted corporate dance.The board members were tense and wary, they watched silently as the documents circulated around. The merger agreement. The signature that would redefine the futures of Blackwell & Co. and Élan Vogue.One of the biggest mergers ever.Isla didn’t flinch when Lucian’s sharp gaze met hers. The silence felt like a blade pressed between the two of them. “Are you sure this is what you want, Isla?” Lucian’s voice was low, almost soft, as if telling Isla to reconsider.Her smile was slow but sharp as glass. “What I want is already in motion, Lucian. What you are left with is a choice. So sign and acknowledge that Élan Vogue is no longer a guest in your business world… or watch your throne burn down piece by piece.”A long

The sky winked under the waning dusk as Lucian sat hunched over the files in the privacy of his office, tie loosened, shirt sleeves and rolled to the elbows. The glow of the laptop screen was the only illumination in the room, a faint blue tint brushing the sharp angles of his clenched jaw, making him look more handsome. Lucian’s phone was clenched tight, he was scrolling through every piece of data Ezra had unearthed for him. It was not about the merger. It was not about sales projections, not about the damned shareholders. It was about about the night five years ago. The night that shaped the silence between him and Isla. He pressed a hand to the desk, his knuckles blanched. Elara Jensen. The attending doctor listed in old files but he still couldn't find any information regarding Doctor Jenson. *** Meanwhile, across the city, Isla stood in the quiet expanse of her penthouse office. The skyline winked like a witness, reminding her how far she had come… and how many ghosts