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CHAPTER 20

Auteur: Ehimen isabella
last update Dernière mise à jour: 2025-04-29 17:36:43

Ximena sat in the quiet of her private conference room, the city stretching behind her in shimmering silver towers. On the long glass table in front of her were a series of folders—marked, signed, finalized.

Twelve per cent.

Her team had done it.

Twelve percent of **Ricardo Enterprises**, now quietly in her control through shell companies, dummy accounts, and shadowed investors. She didn’t need to shout about it.

She only needed Miguel to feel it.

Rafael stood near the screen, arms crossed, expression tense.

“This is going to provoke him,” he said.

Ximena didn’t look up from the contract she was reviewing.

“It’s not provocation,” she replied calmly. “It’s strategy.”

Rafael stepped closer. “You know what I mean. He’s going to hit back harder. Miguel doesn’t let go quietly.”

“He started this war,” she said, finally looking at him. “I’m just finishing it.”

He watched her for a moment, then asked, “What’s the next move?”

She stood, walked to the whiteboard, and circled a name.

**RicardoTe
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    Ximena was halfway through reviewing the bridal capsule shipment report when Rafael burst into her office, phone in hand and eyes wide like he had just stumbled on scandalous gossip—which, knowing Rafael, he probably had.He stood awkwardly at her door. “So… do we pop champagne or throw hands?”Ximena glanced up from her files. “Rafael, what now?”He slowly walked toward her desk, flipped his phone, and showed her the headline.**“Confirmed: Miguel Ricardo & Tania Roberto Set Engagement Date. Ceremony to Be Held at Ricardo Mansion This Saturday.”**For a few seconds, Ximena didn’t move. Her eyes scanned the article, taking in every word. The photograph beneath the headline showed Miguel in a black suit beside Tania in red—smiling, polished, perfect for public consumption.A sour taste coated her throat. Her chest was tight, but she didn’t let it show.Rafael waited, observing her. “You okay?”Ximena closed the file in front of her. “Can you send this down to Yara? I need confirmation

  • WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE   CHAPTER 93

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  • WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE   CHAPTER 92

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  • WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE   CHAPTER 91

    The warehouse on the city's outskirts was quiet—too quiet for a place that had just hosted one of the largest underground trades of the quarter. The only sounds echoing through the vast steel-and-concrete interior were the soft thuds of crates being pushed and the low murmur of men confirming goods.Damian Holt stood near the edge of the main floor, arms folded, his three-piece suit spotless even in the dim, dusty lighting. The shadows danced over the sharp planes of his face—half in elegance, half in danger.His reputation in the business world was pristine—CEO of Holt International, one of the fastest-growing investment syndicates in Europe and Africa. But beneath the polished surface, very few knew what powered his empire.Smuggling. Deals. Blood money is laundered through fashion-tech investments and boutique real estate.“Crates four and five cleared, sir,” one of the men reported, closing the lid on a shipment of high-grade untraceable weapons. “Everything matches the manifest.”

  • WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE   CHAPTER 91

    The warehouse on the city's outskirts was quiet—too quiet for a place that had just hosted one of the largest underground trades of the quarter. The only sounds echoing through the vast steel-and-concrete interior were the soft thuds of crates being pushed and the low murmur of men confirming goods.Damian Holt stood near the edge of the main floor, arms folded, his three-piece suit spotless even in the dim, dusty lighting. The shadows danced over the sharp planes of his face—half in elegance, half in danger.His reputation in the business world was pristine—CEO of Holt International, one of the fastest-growing investment syndicates in Europe and Africa. But beneath the polished surface, very few knew what powered his empire.Smuggling. Deals. Blood money is laundered through fashion-tech investments and boutique real estate.“Crates four and five cleared, sir,” one of the men reported, closing the lid on a shipment of high-grade untraceable weapons. “Everything matches the manifest.”

  • WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE   CHAPTER 90

    The envelope was sleek—deep navy with gold embossing, the design that told you before opening it that it wasn’t an ordinary event. Ximena turned it over in her hands as she sat in her office, her brows slightly raised.“A personal invite?” she murmured, glancing at the bold insignia that read: *Holt International: Future of Fashion-Tech Gala*.Rafael leaned casually against the doorframe, a smug grin on his face. “Told you it was something big. Damian Holt doesn’t invite people on a whim. He selects.”Ximena gave him a look. “And how exactly did they get my name?”He crossed the room, tapping a finger against the card. “Word travels fast, especially when a certain woman dominates both the fashion and gossip columns simultaneously.”She rolled her eyes, but Rafael was already on a roll. “You’re going. No arguments. I’ve already booked glam. They’ll be here by five.”Ximena opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand. “No, no. You don’t get to decline. You’ve worked hard. You dese

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