All Chapters of The Billionaire's Unwanted Wife: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

Chapter 21The story of Bruce’s collapse had spread farther than the walls of his company. By the next morning, newspapers and business bulletins ran quiet pieces on “executive strain,” their language careful but suggestive. In polished circles, whispers of instability carried more weight than facts.Alex Benjamin arrived at the office early, his jaw set, determined to steady the narrative before it grew claws. He stopped in front of the reception desk, catching the wary looks from employees who had already heard enough to seed doubt.“He will be in later,” Ariel said when she saw him. Her voice was professional, but her eyes betrayed concern.“I will wait,” Alex replied, making his way toward Bruce’s office.When Bruce finally arrived, he looked like a man who had not slept. His suit was pressed, his tie straight, but his eyes were red, his skin drawn. He gave a sharp nod to Alex before stepping inside, but Alex followed without invitation.“You should not be here,” Bruce muttered, d

Chapter 23Alex Benjamin had rehearsed the conversation in his head a dozen times before he knocked on the Ford estate door. He had told himself to be calm, deliberate, focused. But as Ariel ushered him into the parlor, the weight of what he carried inside pressed heavier than any strategy could smooth over.Lyra was already there. She stood near the window, framed by the afternoon light, a book closed gently in her hand as though she had been waiting. Her smile, faint and measured, did not reach her eyes.“Alex,” she said softly, as though welcoming an old friend. “It has been a while. You look tired.”He ignored the pleasantry. “We need to talk.”Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer before she gestured toward the armchair opposite hers. “Then sit. I assume this is not about Bruce’s usual delays.”Alex remained standing. “It is about Bruce. And it is about you.”The words hung between them. Lyra’s expression did not falter, but a small stillness crept into the room, like air caug

Chapter 25Bruce Ford had not slept. The message from the night before still glowed in his mind like a brand: I am alive. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, half-remembered and half-dreamed, rising out of the shadows of memory.He moved through the morning like a man chasing ghosts. Ariel’s questions went unanswered. The children’s laughter passed him like distant echoes. Even Lyra’s voice — calm, smooth, always placed at his shoulder — barely reached him. His body was present, but his thoughts were already elsewhere, pacing endlessly around the words that had gutted him.By late afternoon, he could not bear the walls of the estate anymore. He told no one where he was going, only that he needed air. He drove aimlessly, streets blurring into one another, until his car slowed outside the cemetery.It was not intention that had brought him there. It was instinct. He stepped out, his shoes crunching against the gravel, and walked among the rows of stone until he stopped at th

Chapter 27Alex Benjamin had lived through his share of boardroom betrayals and courtroom battles, but nothing unsettled him like the whispers that reached him that week.Ella. Alive.The name echoed through the walls of his office like a haunting. At first, he dismissed it as rumor, the sort of cruel invention rivals might use to stir chaos. But then he saw her.It happened outside the firm, a quiet street lined with tall glass buildings. Alex had stepped out to take a call when a figure crossed at the corner. Her profile was unmistakable. The delicate slope of her nose, the eyes that carried weight beyond their years. He froze, his phone slipping silent against his ear. Ella.His breath caught. For a moment, the years collapsed, and he was staring not at a ghost but at flesh and blood.“Alex?” the voice on the phone prodded. But he did not answer.When he finally regained his senses, she had disappeared into the crowd, leaving him with a racing heart and a thousand questions. He did

Chapter 29The house remained his, but it no longer felt like it belonged to him.Bruce wandered its corridors in silence, his steps echoing against walls that once rang with life. The grand rooms, filled with polished wood and high windows, were empty now. The furniture was there, the paintings still hung in place, the lights still glowed when he turned them on. But the presence that had animated the space; laughter, voices, warmth — had moved elsewhere.He paused by the staircase, listening. There was no sound from above. The children’s voices, once constant, no longer drifted through the halls. He could still remember the way they used to come running down the steps, the way their feet struck the wood as they called for him. Now, when he pictured them, he saw them clinging to Lyra, their hands wrapped around her arms as though she were the one who had always kept them safe.And perhaps she had.Bruce sat in the sitting room with a drink in his hand, staring into the fire. His refle