All Chapters of RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE EX-HUSBAND CHASED ME BACK: Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

The world erupted in a symphony of shattering glass and screaming wind. I moved on an instinct I didn't know I had, my body a blur of motion fueled by pure terror. I wasn't thinking, I was *reacting*. I launched myself across the obsidian table, not for the data chip, but for Jeff.I collided with him just as the pulse rifle whined, sending us both crashing to the floor behind the solid table. A bolt of searing blue energy ripped through the space where his head had been, scorching the wall and filling the air with the smell of ozone and burnt metal.“Get down!” I yelled, my body shielding his, my heart hammering against his chest.Beneath me, Jeff wasn’t cowering. His arms wrapped around me, tight and possessive, but his eyes were blazing with a cold fury as he looked over my shoulder at the shattered window. “Eva! Lockdown! Now!”Alarms blared through the penthouse. A series of heavy titanium shutters began grinding their way down over the gaping hole, cutting off the view of the dr

The air rushed from my lungs. Eleanor Ortega. I’d seen her name in society magazines, a titan of industry in her own right, always photographed with a frosty, unapproachable elegance. Seeing her in person was like facing a perfectly carved ice sculpture.“Ms. Ortega,” I managed, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be. I didn't step aside to let her in. “Jeff… he’s supposed to be here. We have plans.”“Plans change,” she said, her tone implying that the plans of lesser beings were inherently flexible. Her sharp eyes took in my dress, the faint hope that must have been visible on my face, and she offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes. It was a look of pity, laced with condescension. “That’s a lovely dress. It’s a shame. He won’t be coming.”The cold knot in my stomach tightened into a hard, painful ball. “Is he alright?” The question was out before I could stop it, betraying my concern.“He’s perfectly fine. A last-minute merger required his full attention. These things happen whe

Time lost all meaning. I sat on the cold floor of my bungalow, the cease-and-desist order a crisp, cruel weight in my lap. The words *“five hundred feet”* and *“shareholder value”* were branded onto the back of my eyelids. The image of Jeff’s hand, pressed against the tinted glass in a silent, agonized farewell, played on a loop in my mind.He was gone. She had won. I had cost him everything.The sun began to rise, painting my living room in weak, grey light. It felt like an insult. How could the world just continue?A soft, rhythmic sound eventually pierced the numb silence. *Tap. Tap. Tap.*It was coming from the kitchen.I pushed myself up, my body stiff and aching, and followed the sound. It was a windowpane, loose in its frame, rattling in the morning breeze. I moved to latch it, my movements robotic.And that’s when I saw it.Tucked into the corner of the window frame, outside, was a single, perfect stem of night-blooming jasmine. Its tiny white flowers were closed against the d

The cold, metallic scent of the bullet seemed to suck all the air from the room. My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the edge of the kitchen table, my gaze locked on the obscene bouquet. Black roses. A bullet. It was a message from a movie, a cliché, but here, in my sunlit kitchen, it was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.Walk away. Whitlock’s voice echoed in my head. It is the only way to protect him.He was right. This wasn’t a game. Jeff thought he was fighting with corporate bylaws and grand gestures. But the other side… they were playing for keeps.A raw, primal fear took hold, freezing me in place. I had to run. I had to disappear. For his sake.The roar of the motorcycle shattered the paralyzing silence.It wasn't a gentle purr this time. It was a furious, aggressive snarl, ripping down my quiet street and skidding to a halt right outside my door.Before I could even process it, my front door flew open.Jeff stood there, filling the doorway. He wasn't the polished

The ghost of the pain was a cold whisper against the warmth of my hope. I stood frozen in the center of the sleek, impersonal living room, one hand pressed to my lower abdomen. It was nothing. It had to be nothing. Stress. The adrenaline crash. The sheer, overwhelming tsunami of the last twenty-four hours.But the fear was a seed, planted deep, and Whitlock’s threats had given it fertile ground to grow.I took a slow, deliberate breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. *You’re okay. You’re safe. He’s here.* I could hear the low, steady murmur of Jeff’s voice from behind the closed door of the comms room. The sound was an anchor.I needed to move, to do something, anything, to quiet the frantic beating of my heart. I wandered into the master bedroom. It was as minimalist as the rest of the house—a low platform bed, crisp white linens, a floor-to-ceiling window looking out into a private, walled garden. On the dresser, someone—Jeff, it had to be—had placed the small velvet box next to a f