Semua Bab Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife: Bab 221 - Bab 230

“Come over. Seventh time.”The moment Ava read the message, her fingers went still over her phone. A cold prickle ran down her spine. Her instincts screamed don’t go—but logic and obligation were louder. She had promised him ten times. With each encounter, the invisible debt she owed would shrink, and freedom would draw closer.If she endured this, she could finally focus—on reviving the Morales family business, on expanding her investments, and on building a future unshackled by Alexander Vanderbilt. After the divorce, she needed more than dignity—she needed security.Still, the man terrified her.Alexander’s fury wasn’t loud—it was cold, smoldering, capable of disarming her senses until she couldn’t tell whether she was burning or drowning. But she had no other choice. She gathered her breath and drove to the hotel.As she entered the lobby, Jonathan was waiting near the elevator, as if he’d known she would come.

These days, whenever Ava saw Alexander Vanderbilt’s name flicker across her phone screen, a dull ache pulsed behind her eyes—like the warning throb before a migraine.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” she greeted flatly, voice neutral but braced.“Where are you? I’m coming to see you,” came Alexander’s deep, unwavering reply—less a question, more a command.Ava glanced around her room at Le Châteauesque Manor, heart racing. She dared not tell him the truth. Rising swiftly to her feet, she lied with practiced ease.“I’m at the Upper West Side.”Alexander was already halfway to offering to meet her there when she added, coolly but deliberately, “My husband is back tonight. So if you need me, Mr. Vanderbilt, I’ll have to request a leave of absence.”That one sentence—my husband is back tonight—stopped him cold.Earlier that day, she’d exchanged a brief phone call with Liam Norton, who confirmed he was back in town visiting his sister. It wasn’t a complete fabrication. But Alexander didn’t know that.Sudd

Upon returning to the event, Alexander made a direct path to the private room Victor had thoughtfully offered him earlier. His soaked suit, stained with red wine and humiliation, was quickly discarded in favor of a fresh, tailored ensemble. He moved with a brisk efficiency, his expression unreadable—cool on the surface, yet his jaw twitched with barely suppressed tension.His reappearance, however, didn’t go unnoticed.The guests, already abuzz with whispered theories, watched him like hawks cloaked in cocktail attire. Their eyes sparkled with amusement and curiosity, fixating on the man who had just been publicly drenched by none other than Mr. Remmington’s elusive protégé—and had returned without missing a beat. There was something telling in his calm, too calculated, too composed.It only added fuel to the growing speculation.“Did you see how he didn’t even flinch when she threw that drink at him?”“I think he’s into her. Deeply. Did you notice how he tried to shield her? It wasn’

Dear Gentle Readers, do not worry, we have gone through this far with the story... this author will surely end with a grand happy ending***Alexander’s knuckles blanched as he gripped the steering wheel, fury burning through his veins. The car’s engine roared beneath him as he slammed down on the accelerator, slicing through lanes like a blade through silk. The moment he arrived at the Vanderbilt family office, he strode in, pulled out his phone, and coldly dialed a number.Victoria.She had already returned to the Laurent estate, her nerves fraying as the evening wore on. Trent’s delay hadn’t gone unnoticed. His silence—and Alexander’s earlier mention of an “investigation”—had set off alarm bells in her head. She had wasted no time alerting Diana.Diana Richardson, mild-mannered and always one to avoid confrontation, was out of her depth when it came to the vicious undercurrents of Vanderbilt family politics. Her only son, Raphael, had never shown interest in the family's legacy. And

Madam Vanderbilt stood in the grand foyer of Le Châteauesque Manor, watching the once peaceful estate unravel in the wake of Serena's presence. Her sigh was long and weary, laden with bitterness."What a mess this has become," she muttered, shaking her head. "That girl is nothing but a storm in silk gloves. If she stays, the Vanderbilt name will be dragged into the mud."Two members of the household staff, who had been arguing in the hall for nearly an hour over Serena's presence, finally left the manor—one slamming the door behind them. The air was thick with tension.Meanwhile, word of Alexander’s accident had reached Cornelius.The old man rushed to the hospital without hesitation. The harsh glow of the surgical light outside the operating room cast a sterile pallor across his deeply lined face. He stood silently, watching the doors as if sheer willpower could compel them to open.Colton, standing nearby, glanced at the older man with concern. “Cornelius,” he said gently, “Alexander