All Chapters of The Wealthy Divorcee: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

"I don't know," Rex muttered, his voice low, almost drowned out by the ambient noise of the bar. Mark's question hung in the air like smoke—why did she marry you in the first place?His mind drifted unwillingly to the past.It was a night of chaos. He still remembered the flashing lights, the cold steel of the emergency room, and the pounding fear in his chest. Alice had gotten into a terrible car accident. She lost a lot of blood, and time was running out."RH negative," the doctor had said. "She's a rare blood type. The hospital doesn't have enough. We're calling other facilities, but it may be too late."He remembered gripping the edges of the chair in the waiting room, his hands turning white from the pressure. That moment was a blur of desperation and dread. Then Jenna appeared, calm, composed, and resolute."I'm RH negative," she said. "I can help."He looked at her like a lifeline had just walked into the room. "Please… please, help us—""I will," she said. "But I have one cond

RexThe night air outside the club carried the faint thump of music, but Rex’s mind was already elsewhere. He had stepped into the shadows after Jenna disappeared inside, intending to head home. He told himself he didn’t care. He told himself it was just a coincidence that his steps slowed when she came back out.Then he saw him — Mark Martinez. Standing there like a parasite waiting for an opportunity.Rex’s jaw tightened. From where he stood, he could hear enough to piece together the tone — Jenna’s sharp dismissal, Mark’s pitiful plea. She didn’t hold back. A part of Rex almost admired the way she put Mark in his place with that cutting calmness. The other part just wanted to drag Mark away by the collar.When Mark finally fled in humiliation, Rex’s first instinct was to leave. She didn’t want him around, and he’d already endured enough of her venom for one evening. But when she slid behind the wheel of her car, something made him pause. A small, gnawing voice whispered: Follow he

The sun rose pale over Anderson Empire, yet the shadows in Jenna's office stretched long, heavy with the weight of what almost happened the night before. She sat behind her desk, still wrapped in the faint scent of smoke and metal. Her body ached with every movement, a raw reminder of the crash — the screeching tires, the world spinning, the sharp shatter of glass.She should have died.Instead, she was here, staring at the envelope Lucas had just placed in front of her.Her assistant looked worn, dark circles shadowing his eyes. His jacket was still dusted with city grime, as though he hadn't changed since last night."You said twelve hours." Jenna's voice was steady, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her.Lucas nodded. "And I delivered. It wasn't easy, Ms. Jenna. The club doesn't talk — not without pressure. Mechanics don't admit to sabotage unless you threaten their licenses. But I found what we needed." He tapped the envelope gently, as though it were fragile. "It's all in here

The condo door slammed behind him, but Alice’s voice still clung to his ears like smoke.And yet she still doesn’t want you back.Rex shoved his hands into his coat pockets, jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The night air cut sharply against his skin, but it wasn’t the cold that made him tremble. It was the weight of years — of choices, misplaced loyalties, and shadows he had lived in without questioning if they were real.Alice had lied. That much the report confirmed. But the question that burned in him now wasn’t just about her attempt on Jenna’s life. It was the foundation of everything she had held over him — Martin.Martin Hendrick. His best friend. His brother in arms. A man whose memory he had honored in silence, even when it bled him dry.Alice always whispered about Martin. How Martin had cared for her. Martin had confessed his love before fate took him. How Rex, by extension, was bound to protect her as Martin would have wanted.Those words had shackled him. He’d believed t

AliceThe bar’s atmosphere was a blend of quiet jazz and whispered ambition. Shadows clung to the velvet booths, hiding secrets in their folds. Alice Florence adjusted her dress, lifting her martini glass as she studied the woman opposite her.Veronica Duval was not merely beautiful. She was a weapon, polished and deadly, wrapped in couture. Recently returned from Geneva, Veronica brought a storm of curiosity and influence. A shareholder in the Anderson-Hidalgo venture, her opinion could sway investors like the tide.Alice leaned forward, her tone soft but sharp. “You’ve seen the news. Jenna Anderson walks like she owns this city. She survived a crash, and now she parades her resilience as though she’s invincible.”Veronica’s eyes narrowed over the rim of her wine glass. “Everywhere I go since my return, I hear her name. Headlines. Investors. Whispers about her leadership. And then—” her lips tightened “—Chris Avila’s name beside hers. Always hers.”Alice smirked. “He courted her once