Todos los capítulos de Billionaire’s V1rgin Ex-Wife: Capítulo 321 - Capítulo 330

Dear Gentle Readers, This author understands the frustration over the last chapter and could only pray that you will trust this author that every chapter, every paragraph, every sentence has their own meaning and purpose. Serena may not be able to open up yet, but it is within her character’s arch. You have read from the very beginning of this story, you must have seen how each character grew naturally and evolves. Yours, E.C. ---When Serena stormed out of Manhattan Villa, she felt as though her whole body were burning. Rage coiled inside her chest, mingling with a suffocating helplessness she could barely endure. Layla’s smug talk about pregnancy echoed in her ears, colliding with Alexander’s cold words about getting rid of the child. The contradiction made her head pound violently, as if someone were striking an anvil inside her skull.Still, she didn’t forget to scoop up Max on her way out.After spending a short while cooling down at Le Châteauesque Manor, trying and failing

Serena was certain she had heard Alexander’s voice echo through the stone labyrinth. Her pulse spiked with hope, but the walls of the pit she was trapped in were impossibly smooth, offering no handhold to climb her way out.Alexander, meanwhile, stood in a dim corridor not far away. In a straight line, they were close—agonizingly close—but the winding, twisting passages bent sound, making her calls ricochet in strange directions. It was as if Serena’s voice was both beside him and far away at once.“Serena!” he called, his voice hoarse with urgency.The echo carried back faintly. He broke into a run, his boots hammering against the damp floor. The passage abruptly ended at a gaping opening, and he lurched to a stop, gravel tumbling over the edge of the sheer mountainside. If he had taken one more step, the abyss would have swallowed him whole.He slammed the door shut with a curse, chest heaving. These obvious wooden doors carved into the stone walls? Nothing but death traps—each one o

Serena hobbled down the quiet hospital corridor, her crutch tapping against the floor in an uneven rhythm. She paused outside Alexander’s room, leaning against the cold, sterile wall for support. From inside, Layla’s muffled sobs slipped through the thin crack of the door, raw and aching.Every word carried through, striking Serena’s ears like small daggers. Her fingers tightened around the crutch as memories surfaced—Alexander, with that unyielding voice of his, declaring he would marry Layla. He had even set the date for the following week.That was more than two weeks ago. The wedding hadn’t happened yet, postponed because of his condition. But Serena knew the truth: once he opened his eyes, Layla would still be waiting there to claim him. And he would choose her.Serena couldn’t understand what Alexander saw in Layla. But if he cared for her… he must have his reasons. That thought alone hollowed her chest.Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a long moment before she let it fall.

Hugo entered quietly, a glass of water trembling in his hand as he approached the hospital bed. Alexander lay propped against the pillows, his skin pale against the stark white sheets. His lips were cracked, streaked faintly with blood, and his frame looked as though the weeks of unconsciousness had hollowed him out.“Still hung up on her, huh?” Hugo muttered, tipping the glass carefully toward Alexander’s mouth. His voice carried that blend of exasperation and pity only a longtime friend could muster. “You’ve been out cold for more than two weeks, and she hasn’t even bothered to visit.”Alexander’s brows knit together, his gaze unfocused at first, then sharpening as the words sank in. He accepted a small sip, then turned his head slightly toward the window. Morning light filtered through the blinds, painting him in a fragile glow that made his gauntness even more obvious.“Really?” His voice was hoarse, almost broken.He couldn’t wrap his head around it—Serena being so heartless.Hugo

Serena arrived at the pet hospital in a rush, her heels clicking sharply against the sterile white tiles. A cluster of servants was already gathered anxiously in the waiting area, their faces pale, their posture rigid with fear.Rex had been taken into the examination room, and the results were back—he was in critical condition, the vet and nurses working frantically to resuscitate him.The vet, a middle-aged man with sharp features and weariness in his eyes, stepped out, his expression grave. “This isn’t illness,” he said firmly, his voice edged with restrained anger. “Someone has been abusing this dog.”For a moment, Serena forgot to breathe. Her pulse thundered in her ears. “What are you saying?” she demanded, her voice raw, half disbelief, half fury.The vet adjusted his glasses, studying her with a steady gaze, as though confirming whether she was indeed Rex’s owner. “The injuries are consistent with repeated external force. Blows. Kicks, maybe. If you don’t find out who’s behind