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CHAPTER 37
Last Updated:
2025-05-06 22:36:44
Latest chapter
WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE CHAPTER 94
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
Ximena stood in her kitchen, the soft hum of the extractor fan above the stove whispering over the scent of simmering garlic and fresh basil. She wore a simple black slip dress, hair tucked into a loose bun as she stirred the pot with a glass of red wine beside her. The long day at Antonio Enterprises had left her drained, but being home offered a rare, fleeting sense of calm.The doorbell rang.She glanced at the clock. It was almost 8 p.m.With cautious steps, she walked over to the door, checked the peephole—and her heart gave a strange thump. Miguel.She hesitated, then slowly unlocked and opened it. He stood there, dressed in a charcoal-grey shirt with the sleeves folded up, hands in his pockets, a hesitant look in his eyes.“I just came to check if you got home safely,” he said, voice quiet, unsure.Ximena blinked. “You came all the way here… just to ask that?”Miguel gave a half-smile, more restrained than charming. “I didn’t know if Damian Holt would be around or not. The man
WANTING MY BILLIONAIRE EX-WIFE CHAPTER 92
The late evening sun spilt gold across the glass walls of Antonio Enterprises, casting long shadows that danced between the mannequin displays and hanging sketch boards. Most of the team had clocked out, and the usually buzzing fashion wing had settled into an expectant hush—except for the faint sounds of pencil scratches from Ximena’s office.She was seated at her wide desk, sketching final adjustments on Clarissa Morreti’s gown silhouette when Rafael’s voice cut through the corridor.“Uh, boss…” he called, his tone oddly breathless. “You might want to come out here.”Ximena glanced up, pencil still between her fingers. “Why? What now?”“Just… trust me. You’ll want to see this.”With a quiet sigh, she placed the pencil down, smoothing her silk blouse as she stood. Her heels clicked softly on the polished marble as she entered the hallway. Then she saw him.**Damian Holt.**Standing in her reception lounge, dressed in an impeccable navy blue three-piece suit, silver cufflinks catchin
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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