All Chapters of The "EX" Factor : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

"Hello, Mr. Wills," came Elizabeth's voice through the intercom. "A man is here to see you... he said it's extremely important."Tyler quickly looked at the clock, his brows knitting together. He didn't have any appointments lined up. "What's his name?" he asked, his voice laced with feeling that something is wrong or bad, but without proof."Owen Lewis," Elizabeth replied after a pause.Tyler froze, the pen in his hand halting mid-signature.Owen Lewis. Owen?The name hit him like a gut punch. The man Julie had used in her elaborate web of lies to convince him Samantha had been unfaithful.The one who'd without knowing been a pawn in her big dishonest plan.Why was he here now?After a moment of hesitation, Tyler pressed the button. "Send him in."The door opened minutes later, and Owen walked in. Recognition flickered across his face, but he wasn't here for small talk.Tyler noted the tension in his jaw, the stiffness in his shoulders. Whatever had brought Owen here, it wasn't good.

Tyler paced the length of his office, his jaw squeezed tightly as he processed Owen's confession.His fists balled at his sides, extreme anger bubbling beneath the surface."You're telling me," he said through toughnessted teeth, "that you were behind the photo that destroyed my marriage?"Owen, positioned opposite him, appeared wan yet resolute. His hands lay on the table, his knuckles pale from clutching the edges. "I never intended for it to reach this point," he stated. "It was meant to be a fear tactic, a way to put space between you and Samantha." Julie had different intentions. Tyler struck the desk with his hand, the noise resonating in the room. "You didn't intend for it to reach that point?" he retorted. That 'scare strategy' ruined everything!""I know," Owen said, his voice shaking with fear and emotion but firm. "And I've lived with the guilt every single day. Julie wasn't supposed to take it further, but once she got a taste of power, she ran wild. She had advantage

The roar of tires over mix of little rocks signaled their arrival. Owen leaped from the car before it had fully stopped, his heart pounding as the police officers filed out behind him, their movements sharp and practiced.He motioned toward the warehouse, his voice low and extremely important."She's inside. Be careful.. they're dangerous."The lead officer nodded, signaling his team to fan out.The air was thick with tension, the moon casting pale light over the rusted exterior of the building.Owen's fists squeezed tightly at his sides as he stared at the entrance. Every second Samantha spent inside that place was a second too long.One officer approached the main door, a hand floating near to his leather case for carrying something.Owen could feel the energy-giving body chemical thrumming in his veins as the officer tested the handle and pushed the door open.A loud creak echoed, the sound cutting through the still night like a warning bell.**********Julie paced near the far co

As dawn broke the next morning, the gentle beeping of the machines that kept a watchful eye on Tyler's vitals filled the room with a soft, persistent sound. I was planted firmly beside his bed, the rhythm of the beeps offering a thread of comfort amid the turmoil swirling around us.My gaze was locked onto my phone screen, scrolling through the flood of breaking news.One headline grabbed me, refusing to let go: "Caleb Jones: Wanted Fugitive Following Explosive Fraud and Embezzlement Revelations."Disbelief washed over me.Caleb, the man who had wronged me, Tyler, and so many others, was finally exposed for all the world to see.The media frenzy was relentless, parading Owen's damning findings for all to see.. undeniable evidence of Caleb's criminal dealings, his shady links to Julie, the web of deceit and manipulation he'd spun.The once untouchable Caleb was now on the run, his empire of lies crumbling as he fled from his own misdeeds.Part of me found solace in this chaos. It was f

I watched the glass of water on the table, feeling the moisture forming on the bottom with my fingers. The quiet chatter in the restaurant around me faded away. I kept looking over at the entrance, and my stomach felt more and more knotted with each moment. This wasn't real. That’s not possible. The message stuck in my mind like a guest I didn't want: we needed to have a conversation. This is about your dad. I thought about avoiding it, deleting it, or acting like it wasn't there. Something brought me here—maybe it was curiosity, anger, or hope. The scene was neutral, public, and terribly ordinary. Just another downtown eatery, bustling with laughter and conversation, with no proof of the emotional storm rising within me. My glance moved to the clock. Five minutes past our agreed-upon time. 'Good. Perhaps he isn't coming. I was about to stand up and walk out when the door opened. At first, I didn't think much of it. Just another customer walking in, shrugging off the c