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Midnight Ambush
Last Updated:
2025-12-29 10:25:29
Latest chapter
The Wealthy Divorcee Sniper in the Towers
Time did not slow.It shattered.—High above the palace, the shooter exhaled.He lay prone against cold stone, body aligned with the rifle as if they were a single organism. The wind was steady. The distance measured. The variables accounted for long before the gala lights ignited below.Gold dress. Center mass.The target moved exactly as predicted.The shooter’s finger rested against the trigger, pressure increasing by fractions. He did not think of faces. He did not think of names. He thought only of instruction.Observe. Adjust. Execute.Below him, music swelled.A king danced.The woman in gold turned her head slightly, laughter flickering across her face for a heartbeat. Something tightened unexpectedly in the shooter’s chest.Annoyance.Emotion was a flaw.He corrected his breathing.—Rex moved before thought could catch him.The red dot burned against Jenna’s chest, a cruel mockery against gold, steady and precise. Rex’s body reacted on instinct older than reason—muscle memo
The Wealthy Divorcee Midnight Ambush
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
The Wealthy Divorcee King's Council
Morning arrived without mercy.Madrid woke beneath pale gold sunlight, but inside Jenna Anderson’s body, the night never truly ended.Every muscle protested as she stood before the tall mirror in the palace guest wing, carefully fastening the last button of her tailored navy suit. Bruises bloomed along her ribs beneath silk and wool. Her throat ached where steel had kissed skin. When she lifted her arm, pain sparked sharply down her side, bright and unforgiving.She welcomed it.Pain meant memory. Pain meant survival.Behind her, the heavy doors opened without a sound.David entered.He had changed as well—formal, austere, dressed in black with subtle gold accents woven into the cuffs and collar. There was no mistaking it now. No corporate illusion. No ambiguity.This was not the man who stood beside her in boardrooms.This was the king.“Are you ready?” he asked quietly.Jenna met his gaze through the mirror. “I’ve faced worse rooms.”A corner of his mouth lifted, but his eyes remain
The Wealthy Divorcee Midnight Ambush
The red dot vanished as if it had never existed.Jenna froze.For a fraction of a second, her mind tried to rationalize it—light reflection, a trick of steam from the bathroom mirror, exhaustion playing cruel games. But instinct screamed louder than logic. The same instinct honed through years of discipline, bruises, broken skin, and relentless training.Danger.Her body responded before fear could settle.She slowed her breathing, grounding herself as her instructor had taught her years ago. Feel the floor. Control the pulse. Do not panic.Jenna crossed the room silently, muscles coiled, fingers flexing as she reached the balcony door. Madrid shimmered beyond the Glass; the city stretched beneath the midnight sky like a jeweled beast at rest. The breeze stirred the sheer curtains, cool and deceptive.She stepped outside.The air shifted.A scrape of fabric. A whisper of movement.Jenna turned—and the first assassin vaulted over the railing.She did not scream.Her foot snapped up ins
The Wealthy Divorcee Arrival in Madrid
The private jet cut through the clouds like a silver blade, leaving New York behind in a trail of pale morning light. Jenna Anderson sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the endless blue outside, yet she saw nothing of the sky. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, impeccably dressed in a tailored cream coat—but beneath that still surface, her thoughts churned restlessly. Madrid. The name echoed in her mind with unfamiliar weight. This was not merely an expansion trip. It was her first official overseas appearance since reclaiming her identity, her power, and her name. The European launch would determine whether Anderson Global truly stood as a world-class empire—or merely an American giant trying to cross oceans it didn’t yet understand. Across from her, Steeve flipped through a digital report, his brows drawn together in concentration. He looked up occasionally, glancing at Jenna with an expression that mixed professional respect and quiet admiration. “Everything’s
The Wealthy Divorcee Royal Revelation
David Branson left without revealing anything.That was what the world saw.Black vehicles vanished into Manhattan traffic. Armed men disappeared. Sirens dissolved into the distance. By the time the glass doors of J&J headquarters stopped trembling, the moment already felt unreal—like a power surge that never fully discharged.Jenna remained still for several heartbeats after he was gone.Not because she was weak.Because something unfinished hovered in the air between them.The boardroom demanded her back.She returned with the same composed authority she had rebuilt since the island—heels steady, shoulders squared, eyes sharp enough to cut through fear and speculation. Directors were already mid‑panic, voices overlapping, legal teams dialing embassies, assistants whispering the word royal like it might explode.Jenna raised one hand.Silence fell."What you witnessed today," she said evenly, "was not a declaration. It was an introduction."A director cleared his throat. "Ms. Anderso
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