Semua Bab Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging: Bab 181 - Bab 190

The door swung open before my knuckles could connect with the wood a fourth time. Light spilled out, blinding after the pre-dawn darkness, casting the figure in the doorway into silhouette."Dio mio." The voice was rougher than I remembered, aged by whiskey and solitude. "Giuseppe Russo. The devil himself."My eyes adjusted slowly. Victor Antonelli stood before me, barrel-chested and silver-haired, the sharp intelligence in his eyes unchanged despite the years. His gaze dropped to my wheelchair, genuine shock flickering across his weathered face before settling into sardonic amusement."Death is finally catching up to you, Russo?" His accent remained thick despite decades in America, vowels stretching like taffy. "Really, I thought I'd be first in the ground.""Disappointment all around then," I replied, the acid in my tone masking the strange relief I felt seeing him alive.Victor's hand moved to his chest in mock offense. "Is that any way to greet old friend? Fifteen years of silenc

MayaThe doorman stared at me when I dragged myself through the lobby. He always watched people—it was literally his job—but something felt off about it tonight. Like he was waiting for something. His eyes followed me across the marble floor, past the fancy orchids that someone kept replacing even though nobody ever looked at them."Evening, Ms. Vega," he called out.I kept walking, hoping he'd leave it at that."Everything alright?" he added.I paused, not turning fully. "Fine."The word hung there, obviously untrue. The doorman nodded anyway, his eyes lingering a beat too long before he looked back down at whatever he was pretending to read.

The restaurant Alex picked was one of those places with a name that's just a single word—Lume. Dark wood, soft lighting, waiters who appeared and disappeared like ghosts. Not the kind of place I would have chosen, but I was too tired to care.I'd put on a simple black dress, nothing special. Alex showed up in a suit without a tie, looking like he'd come straight from the office. His eyes did that thing when he saw me—widened just a bit, then warmed. It was nice to be looked at that way. Like I was worth seeing."You look beautiful," he said."Thanks." I tugged at the hem of my dress. "You clean up okay yourself."We didn't talk much in the car. I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. My head was still pounding, but I'd downed two Advil before we

I stood in the elevator, watching the numbers tick upward. Floor seven. Eight. Nine. My reflection stared back at me from the polished doors—gray suit crisp against my skin, hair swept into a low chignon, makeup carefully applied to hide the shadows under my eyes. Not the Armani suit Grandfather had suggested yesterday. That one stayed hanging in my closet where it belonged, with all its complicated history.Grandfather had given me that suit during my first year with Daniel, back when I still believed the Russo legacy was something to be proud of. "It was your grandmother's," he'd told me then, as if that should mean something. Now that I knew the truth—what she and Grandfather had done to Mami Lulu—wearing it felt like betrayal. Like I was stepping back into a role I'd worked so hard to escape.The doors slid open.

GiuseppeThe boardroom was too bright. They'd installed new LED lighting last year—Richardson's idea, cost-saving measure—and the harsh white glare reflected off the polished table, making my eyes water. Or perhaps it wasn't the light at all. Perhaps it was simply that I was watching Maya’s careful composure crack piece by piece, and I was powerless to stop it.I'd positioned my wheelchair at the far end of the room, away from Maya. A strategic choice. I needed to see everyone's faces, track each microexpression, each whispered exchange. The distance also meant she couldn't look to me for guidance. Today, she needed to stand on her own.Maya had arrived transformed from yesterday's disheveled state. She didn’t wear the Armani as I’d suggested, I noticed. It would have stirred memories in the older board members who'd known Eleanor. There weren’t many. But it was specifically for Robert himself. Imagine seeing his daughter wearing his mother’s suit. I hadn’t gotten any reaction yesterd