Lahat ng Kabanata ng Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Kabanata 241 - Kabanata 250

Knoxx’s Point of View I stare through the reinforced glass, jaw clenched so tightly it aches. Dolly sits across from me on the other side of the metal table, wearing that standard-issue orange like it belongs on her. She looks smaller than I remember—shoulders hunched, lips dry, dark circles beneath her eyes. She barely lifts her head when the guard closes the door behind me with a heavy clank. “I wasn’t expecting you,” she mumbles, eyes avoiding mine. I lean forward, arms braced on the table. “No? You should’ve. You owe me answers.” Her head finally lifts, and there’s something in her face—guilt, maybe, or shame. I don’t care anymore. “I don’t have much time,” I snap. “So don’t start with games. I dug into your past.” She tenses.

Penelope’s Point of View The clouds look like they're holding something back. Big and gray, heavy with unshed tears, the sky stretches above the park in a muted hush that feels… oddly perfect. The world is quiet. Still. Like it’s waiting. “I didn’t think you’d show up,” I say, hugging my jacket tighter around my arms. The early evening wind nips at my skin, but not enough to make me go back inside. Not yet. Lorenzo’s already here when I arrive, standing near the iron bench by the willow tree like he’s part of the landscape. Effortless. Calm. The man doesn’t even flinch at the changing weather. “You asked me to meet you,” he replies simply. I nod, teeth pressing into my lower lip. “Still… wasn’t sure if you would.” He looks at me, not quite smiling but something c

Penelope's Point of View I don’t mean to snoop. I swear I don’t. But Lorenzo left his house in a rush, his son crying about some forgotten stuffed dinosaur, and I just wanted to be helpful. I was picking up clothes from the couch when the drawer near the TV stand wouldn’t shut properly. A thin corner of paper was wedged between the wood. I tug it free without thinking—then freeze. It’s an envelope. Old, yellowed at the edges. My name isn’t on it. Neither is Lorenzo’s. But the handwriting is unmistakably feminine—looped, gentle. On the back, it reads only one word in faded ink. "For him." My chest tightens. I shouldn’t open it. I do. The paper is soft from age, worn at the folds. I hold it carefully like it might crumble, but the words... they p

Caroline's Point of ViewAdrian smiles as he slides the tablet across the breakfast table, the screen angled toward me like a present I never asked for. “Your day looks lighter now,” he says, his tone warm, almost proud. “I took care of the double-booked slot this morning, and I moved your budget review to Thursday.”I blink, a fork halfway to my mouth. “You… moved it?”He nods easily, like it’s nothing. “You mentioned last week how you hate back-to-back meetings. Figured I’d help. Just trying to make your life easier.”I force a small smile, stabbing my fork into the pale yolk of my egg. “Thanks,” I murmur.But there’s a tightness in my chest that doesn’t ease with his gesture. I don’t remember mentioning anything about hating back-to-backs last week. Maybe I did in passing. Maybe I said it in a moment of exhaustion and forgot.Still, I reach for my phone without thinking, tapping open my calendar—and sure enough, the entries are changed. Some are color-coded now. There’s even a note

Knoxx’s Point of View The call comes just past nine in the morning. I’m alone in my office, the door shut, blinds half-closed against the sunlight bleeding through the glass. There’s a spreadsheet open on my laptop, its columns and numbers untouched, blinking like they’re waiting for someone who still cares. I’ve been staring at it for the better part of an hour without reading a single line. My mind hasn’t been in this building for days. Not really. Not since Caroline walked away from me again, and not since I started this private investigation—the one I promised myself I wouldn’t start unless I was ready to know the truth. The phone buzzes against the wood of my desk. Private Number. I already know who it is. I hesitate for a beat. My thumb hovers above the answer icon like it’s a tr