All Chapters of The Wealthy Divorcee: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

190 Chapters

Return To New York

The decision came quietly.No press conference. No advisors arguing across polished tables. No dramatic announcement.Jenna made it alone, in the hours before dawn, while Madrid slept beneath a fragile illusion of order. The city outside her hospital window glimmered with distance and indifference, as if it had already decided she did not belong here.Alice’s letter lay folded on the bedside table.Jenna did not touch it again.She didn’t need to.Alice is her nemesis.Always.New York was where Jenna’s empire had been built—but it was also

Shattered Glass

The explosion came without warning.One moment, the J&J Global headquarters lobby shimmered with polished marble and morning sunlight pouring through thirty-foot glass panels.The next—The world detonated.A thunderous roar tore through the building, violent enough to seem alive, as if the air itself had turned predatory. Glass burst inward in a glittering tidal wave. The chandeliers above fractured into a thousand falling stars.Screams followed.Then heat.Then smoke.—Jenna never remembered deciding to move.Her body acted.A sharp cry cut through the chaos — small, terrified, unmistakably a child’s.Jenna turned.Near the reception desk, a little girl stood frozen, maybe six years old, clutching a pink backpack as flames licked hungrily along a collapsed wall behind her.Time warped.Debris rained down.People stampeded toward exits.The girl did not move.Jenna ran straight into the falling Glass.“Get down!” she shouted, diving forward just as another shockwave rippled through

The Widow’s Letter

The command unit fell silent after Jenna finished reading the note.Even the distant wail of sirens seemed to fade beneath the weight of that single sentence.Every kingdom falls from the inside.Jenna lowered the page slowly, her fingers steady despite the storm rising beneath her ribs.Inside.Not outside attackers.Not faceless enemies.Someone close.Someone trusted.The air suddenly felt contaminated.—

Rex Under Fire

The silence after the call felt heavier than the explosion that had shattered J&J’s lobby.No one moved.No one breathed.Adrian Vale.One of Rex’s men.The words echoed through the temporary crisis headquarters like a verdict already passed.Jenna lowered the phone slowly, her reflection staring back at her from the glass wall — composed, unbreakable, terrifyingly calm.Inside, however, something molten shifted.Not fear.Not panic.Betrayal.—Rex was the first to speak.“No,” he said quietly.It wasn’t denial.It was disbelief sharpened into pain.“He’s been with my division for six years… top percentile clearance, decorated cyber-defense architect. I vetted him personally.”Jenna turned toward him.

Rex’s Dark Night

Rain fell in relentless sheets, turning the city into a blurred constellation of fractured lights.Rex Hidalgo moved through it like a ghost.No escort. No convoy. No digital trail.Only instinct.For forty-eight hours, he had ceased to exist.Officially, he was unreachable. Unofficially… he was hunting.Adrian Vale’s capture had been merely the first thread. Rex had learned long ago that traitors rarely acted alone — betrayal was a chain, each link forged by desperation, greed, ambition, or fear.And Rex intended to break every single one.Beca

Guarded Emotions

The scent of antiseptic still lingered in Jenna’s memory. Even now, standing at the glass entrance of J&J’s temporary headquarters, she could almost hear the steady rhythm of hospital monitors… the faint, fragile sound that had followed Rex’s breathing the night he collapsed in her arms. She had not stayed long. She had not allowed herself to. Because staying meant feeling. And feeling, right now, was a liability. So she stepped forward. Back into war.The moment Jenna entered the building, everything shifted. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. Eyes followed. Respect. Fear. Curiosity. And something sharper beneath it all, speculation. Jenna walked past them without pause, heels striking marble with quiet authority. Her expression remained composed, unreadable, distant. Untouchable. But she heard them. Of course she did. “Is that her?” “She was at the center of the explosion…” “They say the King himself moved security just for her.” “And Rex Hidalgo—did

Flames of Memory

The severed rose remained on Jenna’s desk long after the call ended.She did not throw it away.She did not move it.Because removing it would mean denying what it represented.And Jenna Hidalgo had never survived by denying reality.Only by confronting it.Morning arrived with unnatural brightness.As if the city itself had chosen to ignore the shadow tightening around her life.Black cars lined the street outside J&J headquarters.Royal insignias gleamed beneath the sun.Media swarmed like vultures sensing something historic.Inside, tension moved faster than whispers.“Is it true?”“The Crown is officially backing J&J?”“They say it’s more than business…”“They say she might become Queen.”Jenna stood at the edge of the executive floor, watching the arrival through reinforced glass.Her reflection stared back at her.Calm.Composed.Unshaken.But beneath it.A storm waited.The elevator doors opened.David stepped out.Not as a businessman.Not as an ally.But as a King.Every move

The Inescapable War

The air in the high-security bunker beneath the J&J temporary headquarters was thick with the scent of ozone and unuttered tension. Jenna Anderson stood before a wall of monitors, her reflection ghostly against the scrolling data of global trade routes and encrypted chatter. Her navy suit was crisp, masking the bruises that still throbbed along her ribs—a physical reminder of the explosion that had nearly claimed her life.Beside her, Special Agent Miller of the FBI adjusted his glasses, his face illuminated by the harsh blue light of the screens. "It's confirmed, Ms. Anderson," Miller said, his voice dropping an octave. "Alice Florence didn't just survive the fallout in Europe; she's metastasized. Our intelligence indicates she has successfully established a primary cell of her new syndicate right here on U.S. soil. They're calling it 'The Obsidian Crown.' It's a hybrid—half-corporate espionage, half-militant insurgency." Jenna didn't flinch, though a cold shiver traced her spine.

Bullet in the Crowd

The strobe lights of the Pierre Hotel ballroom had long since turned into a nauseating blur of white and crimson. Jenna stood frozen at the podium, the air in her lungs feeling like shards of glass. Alice Florence, the woman who had haunted her marriage, her business, and her very survival, stood only twenty feet away, camouflaged in the mundane grey of a press pool.The red laser dot was a steady, mocking eye on Jenna's chest. It didn't waver. It was the mark of a predator who had finally cornered its prey."Hello, Jenna," Alice's voice purred, amplified by the hot mic into a sound that felt like a serrated blade across the skin. "Did you miss me?"Before Jenna could even scream, the world fractured.CRACK.The gunshot was a physical blow, a thunderclap that shattered the high-society silence of the ballroom. For a heartbeat, the room was a tableau of absolute terror. Jenna felt a violent shove, the wind knocked out of her as a heavy, solid weight collided with her, sending her sprawl

Healing Tensions

The sterile white walls of the Presbyterian Hospital's private wing felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. The scent of antiseptic and floor wax was sharp, a clinical reminder of the violence that had unfolded only hours prior. Jenna sat in a stiff, leather armchair pulled close to the bed, her eyes fixed on the rhythmic rise and fall of Daniel's chest. The heart monitor's beeping was the only sound in the room, a steady, mechanical pulse that felt far more reliable than the world outside.Daniel lay under a thin hospital sheet, his shoulder heavily bandaged where the high-caliber round had torn through muscle and bone. His face, usually an unreadable mask of stoic duty, was softened by the exhaustion of surgery and blood loss. He looked younger when he was asleep, less like the lethal weapon David had forged and more like a man who had nearly lost everything to keep a promise.Jenna's hands were clasped in her lap, her knuckles white. The guilt was a heavy, suffocating weight. She

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