Все главы Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife: Глава 381 - Глава 390

The day had stretched into eternity for Serena. She hadn’t really stopped working since the night before—barely catching two hours of restless sleep before dragging herself back to the office at dawn. By five in the morning, the sky was still painted in pale gray when she unlocked the doors of E.A. Studios, coffee in hand, ready to dive back into the chaos.Though the company was running smoother now, it was still in its infancy. Taking over a huge portion of Ruiz Star Entertainment’s operations had doubled everyone’s workload. The hallways buzzed with life at all hours—phones ringing, printers humming, assistants darting between offices clutching folders.And at the center of it all was Serena—sharp, steady, and exhausted.She’d spent the entire day bouncing between meetings, reviewing budgets, editing marketing pitches, and reading through endless contracts. Every small decision—every casting approval, every sponsorship deal—passed through her hands.By evening, her vision blurred fr

Steam still clung to Alexander’s skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, the faint scent of cedarwood soap lingering in the cool air. The room was dimly lit, the bedside lamp casting a soft amber glow across the sheets where Serena lay sound asleep. Half her face was buried in the blanket, her breathing slow and even, her hair spilling over the pillow like dark silk.For a long moment, he just watched her — that rare, unguarded peace on her face. Then he slipped quietly into bed and pulled her into his arms, her warmth fitting perfectly against him. Just as he began to drift toward sleep, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.Suppressing a sigh, Alexander reached for it and answered in a low voice. “What’s up?”“Mr. Vanderbilt,” the man on the other end said, his tone cautious, “we checked every man named Matheo connected to Ms. Morales. Her routine’s been straightforward — mostly between the county and New York City. None of the Marios or Matheos in those areas have any link to her.”A

Marilyn was sprawled across the couch, her head heavy and body drenched in a feverish sweat. The air in her apartment was thick, the curtains half-drawn so that only faint streaks of afternoon light slanted across the floor. Her mind drifted in and out of awareness until she heard the faint click of the door unlocking.“Marilyn?”The familiar voice stirred her.Serena stepped inside, worry etched into her delicate features. She was still in her work attire—sleek black trousers, a silk blouse tucked neatly in, her hair slightly tousled from the cold wind outside. Setting her handbag aside, she crossed the room in quick strides and knelt beside the couch.“I sent you a dozen messages,” she said, her tone laced with concern. “When you didn’t reply, I got the spare key from the housekeeper. You’re burning up—I’ve already called my doctor to come take a look.”Marilyn blinked sluggishly, her dry lips parting as if to respond, but her throat burned with every breath. She wanted to thank Ser

Serena halted abruptly, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she turned to face Quinn and Elliot. Her gaze was cool, cutting straight through them. “I don’t care who sent you,” she said flatly. “I don’t have time for this right now. We’ll wait for the results.”Quinn’s face went pale. She stood frozen, her lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. The silence between them stretched taut, filled with unspoken desperation.Without another glance, Serena turned and walked away. The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and this time, neither Quinn nor Elliot dared to stop her.As the metallic doors slid shut, Elliot exhaled heavily, running a hand through his thinning hair. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he muttered, turning to his wife. “We just found her, Quinn. You could’ve been gentler. The way you talked—it sounded like you only cared about money. How could she not be upset?”Quinn’s voice quivered with frustration. “She is our daughter, Ellio

The next morning, Serena woke to the soft pale light slipping through her curtains—and the cold, empty silence of her phone screen. No messages. No calls. No “good morning” from Alexander.She exhaled, expression unreadable, and pushed herself out of bed.At the office, she dove straight into work. The conference room lights glowed brightly overhead, and the long oval table was lined with executives sitting upright, notebooks open, eyes fixed on her. The moment she began speaking, the room quieted completely.Serena went through the agenda one point at a time, clear and precise. “Listen carefully—our promotional push this quarter cannot afford any slip-ups. The PR department needs to monitor every piece of online chatter. I have a feeling Ruiz Star Entertainment won’t sit on their hands—they might try stirring something up again.”The executives murmured in agreement.One of them raised a hand. “Ms. Morales, Whitney’s new drama aired this morning. The response is excellent. Her follow