Semua Bab The Ex-Wife Seeks Revenge: Bab 121 - Bab 129

Agatha POV:"...so if we shift the Q4 projections for the micro-optics division slightly, it buys us breathing room with the Tanaka investment without raising immediate red flags for the rest of the board." Charles tapped a pen against the polished surface of my desk – Dad’s desk – his brow furrowed in concentration. He’d shown up unannounced an hour ago, ostensibly to discuss NexGen strategy, though his presence always felt like more than just business these days. Ever since the hospital, since Dad started recovering… things between Charles and me were… complicated. Strained. He acted like everything was fine, like our brief intimacy had sealed something permanent, but I kept pulling back, needing space he seemed unwilling to grant."It's aggressive, Charles," I countered, leaning back in my chair, trying to focus on the figures he’d laid out, not on the way his knee occasionally brushed mine under the desk. "Moving those projections relies heavily on the successful rollout of Pha

Charles POV:The sharp click of the phone disconnecting echoed in the sudden silence of my office. Agatha stood frozen, the color drained from her face, her eyes wide with a horror that mirrored the jolt of pure panic shooting through my own system.Lena Moretti. That interfering, sharp-tongued lawyer. What the hell had she just told Agatha? Something about Nathan, clearly. Something devastating, judging by Agatha's reaction. My mind raced, calculating angles, assessing damage, scrambling for control. This was bad. This could undo everything."Agatha, what is it?" I demanded, striding towards her. "What did she say?"I snatched the phone f

Nathan POV:The image flickered on the cheap laptop screen, grainy footage from a hidden camera I’d paid a disgruntled security tech (courtesy of Manuel’s untraceable funds) to install overlooking the entrance to Agatha’s ridiculously opulent mansion. There they were. Campbell, playing the dutiful partner, opening the car door for her, his hand lingering possessively on her back as she stepped out. Agatha, pale and tired, offering him a tight, forced smile before disappearing inside.My teeth ground together. His hand on her back. The sight sent a familiar surge of bile rising in my throat. P

Agatha POV:The warmth of Charles’s arms around me in that chaotic emergency room, the solid feel of his chest against mine, had been a momentary, deceptive haven. It was the primal fear talking then, the relief of seeing him alive, the undeniable pull of a connection that refused to be severed, no matter how frayed or toxic it had become. But back in the sterile grandeur of his penthouse, with the adrenaline fading and the reality of our situation crashing back in, the illusion of safety shattered.He’d been discharged just a few hours after I’d rushed to St. Jude’s. "Superficial injuries," the doctor had said, "a mild concussion, some bruising." But looking at him now, pacing the length of his enormous living room like a caged tiger, his arm in a sling, a livid bruise blooming on his cheekbone, "superficial" felt like a gross understatement. The attack had been real, violent. And it had changed him. Or, perhaps, it had simply stripped away another layer of his carefully construc

Agatha POV:The quiet truce we'd called settled over the penthouse like a thick blanket. I sat on the edge of the massive sofa, Charles propped up against the cushions, his arm in the sling, a faint grimace of pain crossing his face now and then despite his best efforts to hide it. Charles shifted slightly, his gaze finding mine in the dim light. His eyes, usually so sharp, so intense, held a softness I rarely saw, a vulnerability brought on by pain and exhaustion.“Since we’re on a truce for tonight,” he said, his voice low, husky, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, “what if maybe… we…”He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. He reached out his good hand, his fingers gently touching my cheek, hi