The Billionaire’s V1rgin Ex-Wife II

The drop was dizzying, the bottom swallowed by mist. Her stomach twisted violently as the wind tore at her hair and clothes—until, with a jarring snap, a parachute burst open above her.From behind her came a voice—low, deep, and far too calm. Marken’s alter ego.“Serena,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Thanks to you, we got what we needed from Cornelius. When we first imprisoned him here, he wouldn’t say a word, tight-lipped as a clam. You… were the key.”His words echoed through the valley, carried by the wind, reaching even those still standing above the cliff.Serena thrashed violently, but Marken’s alter ego only tightened his grip, holding her close with one arm. His strength was unyielding.The air howled in her ears, biting cold against her skin. Below, the valley stretched into endless darkness.“Move again,” he warned, his voice cutting through the storm, “and you’ll die before we hit the ground.”But Serena didn’t care. She twisted and kicked, fighting like

The house was cloaked in silence when Marken stirred awake at midnight. The faint hum of the refrigerator filled the dim kitchen as he quietly moved about, his shadow stretching long across the tiled floor. He opened the pantry, took out a few simple ingredients, and began to cook. The sizzle of oil, the aroma of freshly toasted bread, and the soft clatter of dishes filled the air—gentle, domestic sounds that almost made him forget the tension coiled in his chest.When the food was ready, Marken carried the small tray down the hall to the locked room.Serena was still sitting on the cold floor, her arms wrapped around her knees. The dim light from the hallway cast a pale glow over her face, emphasizing the exhaustion etched into her features. Her gaze flicked up warily when the door creaked open.Marken stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “Eat something first,” he said quietly, setting the tray on the table. He reached out, helping her up with a gentleness that felt out of plac

When Alexander Vanderbilt woke, dawn had already crept into the hospital room, washing the white walls in a sterile gray light. His phone sat on the bedside table, fully charged—its screen cold, a silent witness to the messages and missed calls waiting within.He didn’t open them.Instead, with movements heavy and deliberate, he unlocked the device and dialed the number of the funeral home.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” came the voice on the other end, polite but distant, “you may come to collect the ashes tomorrow.”There was a pause. A long, hollow silence that seemed to echo inside Alexander’s chest.“...All right,” he murmured at last, his voice dry and thin.Once the call ended, he simply sat there for a while, staring blankly at the reflection of the morning light on the tiled floor. Then, as though shaking off a fog, he dialed another number.“Have you found her whereabouts?”A man’s voice, cautious and subdued, came through the receiver. “Not yet, Mr. Vanderbilt. We’ve already ruled out m

Serena woke with a start, sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains, casting soft gold patterns across the bed. Her head felt heavy, her body sluggish. When she finally turned toward the clock on the bedside table, her heart sank—noon.The world outside was achingly bright. Through the open window drifted the faint scent of flowers and city air, mingling into something distant and unreal. She pressed a hand against her chest, feeling the faint, uneven rhythm of her heartbeat.Cornelius’s funeral should be over by now, she thought. How is Alexander? Did he really vanish somewhere like Matheo said?The thought tightened her throat. She should have been by Alexander’s side, standing beside him through grief, through loss—but she was here instead, trapped in this strange, suffocating place.The door suddenly burst open with a harsh clang. Marken’s alter ego—Matheo—stepped inside. His expression was calm, but his eyes gleamed with dark amusement when he saw her red-rimmed eyes.“Worrie

Hugo and Colton exchanged a brief nod before walking out together, the echo of their boots fading into the quiet hallway. Outside, the evening air hung heavy with the faint scent of rain and exhaust. A line of cars glimmered under the streetlights, their reflections rippling across wet pavement.Colton stopped near the curb, fishing a cigarette from his pocket. The metallic flick of his lighter broke the silence as he cupped the flame against the wind. Smoke curled upward, pale and restless, disappearing into the damp night.Hugo shoved his hands into his pockets and studied Colton’s expression. “What does this have to do with Marken?” he asked. “And why did he say all that nonsense just now?”Colton exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his face half-shadowed beneath the amber glow of the streetlight. “Wait until he sobers up,” he said evenly. “Then you can ask him yourself.”Hugo raised a brow, lips quirking in faint disbelief. “Since when did you become so good at keeping secrets?”Colto