All Chapters of Billionaire’s Ex-wife Is Over Him: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

The wine swirls lazily in his glass. Riley stares at it but doesn’t drink. He sits in the living room of the old estate, the one his mother left him, with its tall ceilings and pale stone floors. The fire crackles, but not loud enough to fill the silence between words. Rex stretches out on the couch, legs crossed, socked feet half-hanging off the edge. He’s holding a beer he hasn’t sipped in a while. Shawn is near the window, arms folded, looking out at the bare garden beyond the glass. Riley shifts in his chair, leaning his elbow on the armrest, fingers rubbing his temple slowly. It’s strange how often they meet now. Since Amanda left—really left—and there’s no more pretending the marriage can be saved, the three of them somehow see each other more. Before, everyone was too busy. Shawn was abroad, neck-deep in some startup deal or digital banking merger or w

Riley leans back, hands on his knees, breathing shallow. His mouth opens. Then closes. He doesn’t know what to say. When it comes down to it, this is his fault. Shawn’s right, Amanda couldn’t have hidden it from him even if she tried. No—he was the one who refused to listen. And now, he has no defense left. He doesn’t press Shawn about how he knows—most likely, Lily has already told him long ago. Rex finally speaks. “Damn. You really didn’t know?” Riley shakes his head. Slowly. “No. I didn’t.” He feels stupid. Worse than stupid. Amanda started a business. A brand. Built something from scratch. And he missed all of it. Not because she hid it—but because he didn’t bother to look. He thought he was watching her slip away. But maybe he’d just stopped paying attention a long time ago. He clears his throat. “Do

Amanda slides her laptop shut and leans back on the wide hotel bed, the sheets crisp and cool against her skin. The room is silent except for the low hum of central air. Soft recessed lights glow above her, set into a ceiling carved with subtle molding. Thick curtains hang over the floor-to-ceiling windows, blocking the Milan skyline outside. A velvet armchair sits by the window. A glass decanter of water waits on the marble-topped bar cart. Everything smells faintly of white tea and fresh linen. She doesn’t move. Just stares at the untouched fruit bowl on the glossy table beside her. She doesn’t move. Just stares at the water ring left by her tea mug on the bedside table. Her phone buzzes. A message from Celia Liu. “Hey! Good news. Just got word from a contact. One of the top studios here in Milan saw your résumé and they’re interested. They want to interview you.” Amanda stares at the screen for

Back at the hotel, Amanda finishes the listing process. She closes her incense shop online too—just for now. She is trying to find a way to run it in another country. The days are full. When she’s not working on documents, she sketches. She watches online classes with her tea in hand, jotting down notes, pausing often to think. Watercolor, character design, composition—she takes her time with each topic. She’ll live in Italy for a long time. Amanda is quite excited about it. And Alessio. I can ask for some advice from Alessio, she thinks. One afternoon, she texts Alessio. “Hey, I got a new job. I’m moving to Milan soon.” His reply comes almost instantly. “WHAT! Amanda!! I’m so proud of you. Seriously. Let me know the exact day—you better let me pick you up from the airport. Promise?” Amanda laughs under her breath.

On her desk sits a stack of papers. Copies of her passport, her new contract, insurance documents, her new address in Milan. She checks them more than once, afraid she might forget something. Everything is ready. On the last evening, Amanda opens the balcony door. The city air drifts in, carrying the faint sound of traffic and a smell of late summer dust. Lights from other buildings shine against the sky, scattered like watchful eyes. She leans on the railing and looks down at the street. The scene is ordinary, yet to her it feels distant already, like a memory she is still standing inside. Her mind drifts. She remembers coming home late from the office, her heels clicking on the floor of her apartment, the silence pressing close around her. She remembers setting down her bag, making tea alone, waiting for a man who rarely came. Riley’s face passes through her thoughts like a reflection in water. And then it vanishes like a bubble, lea