Semua Bab Billionaire Ex Wants Her Back .: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The heavy glass doors of Hills Inc. reflected the city skyline, a distorted mirror of the world outside. Nella stepped through, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors, the sound slicing through the hushed murmurs that filled the vast, open space. They were already talking.Eyes flickered toward her, curiosity laced with thinly veiled resentment. She felt it in the way their voices lowered as she passed, in the barely concealed smirks exchanged between colleagues who thought she didn’t belong. Let them wonder. Let them whisper. It changed nothing.The conference room was colder, lined with glass walls that did little to mute the tension curling through the air. Executives sat in neat rows, their gazes flickering between her and Michael, their expressions unreadable. She knew what they saw—an outsider, a woman with no history in business, yet standing beside one of the most powerful men in the industry.Michael leaned back in his chair, one hand resting lazily aga

Daniella’s point of view The event went well and I was back walking into the office, I could see the face of the workers.A gossip must be going on, looks like they don't know what I can do because of gossips.I heard the office talking in low tones with voices just loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to avoid outright confrontation. I felt the weight of their words before I even heard them."She was nobody before him.""Michael only keeps her around because she amuses him.""She thinks she’s untouchable, but everyone knows she won’t last."The words slithered through the air, laced with smug certainty, meant to chip away at me. They didn’t. I adjusted my bracelet, my expression composed, my posture effortless. Let them talk. Let them weave their stories. It changed nothing, I will fire them to let them understand but someone will be behind it.Marilyn sat near the far end of the executive lounge, her eyes sharp, lips curved into something too calculated to be a real smile. She

Danielle’s Point of ViewI went to the restroom to get my act all together, who does he think he is to talk to me like that.I heard a knock on the door which made me tilt my neck,“ Who is that?!” I asked in a loud voice as it never occurs, although on urgent occasions.”“ Ma'am, Marylin has someone inside your office and he wants to see you.” her voice was shaky as she spoke.“ For fuck sake.” I said in a breathy voice, adjusting my hair while wearing a smile to meet him.“ You're still here?!” I asked with a straight face.“ Yes, you can meet me at a gala tonight, I want us to discuss,I have a deal.”“ I won't be there.” He stood up towering over me.“ I'm not sure, queen.” he said, stretching his hands to show me the invitation card he had dropped on my desk.I was restless throughout the day, till night I decided to dress up for the gala.The air inside the gala was thick with power, threaded with the scent of champagne and something colder—money, control, and ambition woven into

Michael’s Point of View The door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the faint trace of her perfume in the air. A mix of something delicate, deceptively soft—just like the woman wearing it. But I knew better.Danielle was anything but delicate.I sat down, running a hand over my jaw as I stared at the door she had just walked through. She was getting smarter. More aware. She was starting to see things—see me—in ways I wasn’t sure I liked.Or maybe I liked it too much.The moment she had called me out on already having a plan, something shifted between us. She was right. I didn’t need her to destroy Oliver.But that wasn’t the point.I wanted her in the destruction.I wanted her to watch him crumble, to know that I was the one who placed the final nail in his coffin. I wanted her to feel that power—not because she needed it, but because she deserved it.And yet… she still hesitated.That hesitation was a problem.I leaned back, my fingers tapping against the armrest as my thoughts s

Michael’s Point of ViewPain was an old friend.I had been shot before. Stabbed. Beaten within an inch of my life more times than I cared to count. I knew how to grit my teeth, how to keep moving through the agony. But this?This was different.Because Danielle was here.She was kneeling beside me, her hands firm but careful as she pressed down on the wound. Her touch was warmer than I expected, despite the sharpness in her eyes.And she hadn’t hesitated.Not even for a second.I should’ve teased her for it. Mocked her for caring. But the words never came. Instead, I just watched her, the way her brows furrowed in concentration, the way her lips parted slightly as she focused.She was trying to ignore it—what this meant.And that was fine.Because I wasn’t ignoring it.“You need stitches,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “I don’t have the right tools here, but—”“We don’t have time,” I rasped. “Just stop the bleeding.”Her hands stilled.Then, slowly, she lifted her gaze to