Semua Bab Billionaire’s V1rgin Ex-Wife: Bab 461 - Bab 470

By the time the final guests had settled into their seats, the terrace had transformed entirely. The chandeliers overhead dimmed in deliberate stages until only the runway remained illuminated—an elegant strip of light cutting through the soft darkness like a promise.A hush descended. It was not silence precisely—there was always the faint rustle of silk, the whisper of programmes being folded—but it was the kind of collective stillness that signalled anticipation.The host stepped forward, voice warm and assured. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. This season, we present a collection devoted entirely to formal children’s wear and evening attire, each piece personally designed by Mr. Vanderbilt…”Ava, seated discreetly toward the side of the venue, allowed herself the smallest exhale. She had slipped into an empty chair moments before the introduction concluded, preferring the edge of the audience to its centre. From here she could see the runway clearly without feeling herself observed

Ava did not notice Marie.The instant her eyes met Alexander’s across the terrace, she quickened her pace. The corridor ahead seemed suddenly narrower, the air thinner. If she could just reach the changing room—He was faster.He stepped directly into her path, tall and immovable, his presence cutting off her escape as cleanly as a closed door.“Where are you going?” he demanded.The American edge in his voice was unmistakable—low, controlled, but threaded with irritation.Was she really avoiding him like he was some kind of contagion?“What’s it to you?” Ava shot back, lifting her chin.She attempted to move around him.He shifted right.Blocked again.“Where’s Cello?”“He’s changing,” she replied crisply. “I’m taking him home. If you have nothing urgent to discuss, Mr. Vanderbilt, do allow me to pass.”“The event’s not over. You can’t leave.”Her eyes flashed.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said evenly, though her gaze burned, “I agreed to let my son assist with your fashion show. I did not

At the edge of the dance floor, the music swelled and couples drifted into elegant formation beneath the chandeliers. The moment Alexander’s hold loosened—only slightly—Ava slipped from his arm. Not dramatically. Not rudely. But decisively.“I really must go,” she murmured, already moving briskly toward the exit.Alexander frowned and followed at once. He had barely drawn level with her when a figure appeared before them as if conjured by mischief itself.Ezra.One hand neatly tucked behind his back, the other extended in perfect invitation. His posture was impeccable; his smile, radiant. “May I have this dance?” he asked warmly.Ava nearly sighed aloud. How did this man manage to materialise at the most inconvenient moments? She was already struggling to disentangle herself from one persistent gentleman. She did not require a second.Still— Ezra had stood up for her. For Marcello. He had publicly offended an ambassador on their behalf. Gratitude was not something she ignored lightly.

Indeed, he had changed.More than seven years had passed, and the young man who had once seemed almost awkward in bed—intense yet uncertain—had become something altogether different. Controlled. Confident. Dangerous in ways she had not expected.Alexander Vanderbilt had learned how to wield desire like a weapon.Ava drew a shallow breath and forced a mocking laugh.“Mr. Vanderbilt,” she said coolly, though her voice was a shade hoarser than she intended, “you may as well save your efforts. Tricks like that might deceive naïve little girls who’ve never seen the world.”For a moment, he did not move.Then slowly, Alexander lifted his head.One arm was braced beside her head on the mattress, supporting his weight. His face hovered above hers, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath. Less than ten centimetres separated them.His breathing was slightly uneven.The blue of his eyes—usually clear and sharp—had darkened, like the sea under moonlight. Deep. Unreadable.Somethi

With a casual wave of her hand, Ava stepped past the female trainee and moved forward, pressing a palm to her chest as though still catching her breath.“This time,” she said between light gasps, “I’ll choose the event.”Poppy had expected hesitation, perhaps even retreat. Instead, Ava volunteered without the slightest prompting. The surprise lasted only a moment before satisfaction curled through Poppy’s chest.“Fine,” she replied at once. “Whatever you choose.”Ava’s gaze drifted around the circle of spectators before settling on the equipment nearby.“Bench press.”Poppy nearly laughed.In her mind, Ava’s earlier success had little to do with strength. Pull-ups, after all, could be aided by a lighter frame and quick reflexes. Bench pressing, however, relied on sheer muscular power. There would be no clever tricks there.And muscular power was something Poppy prided herself on.“Very well,” she said briskly. “Let’s begin.”Naturally, she added a small calculation of her own. Ava had