All Chapters of My Billionaire Ex's Biggest Regret: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

Lilian never liked leaving the office at midday. Too many eyes. Too many cameras. Too many memories that came rushing back if she caught herself in reflective glass, remembering the woman she used to be—the one who once believed Chris Newton's world was safety instead of a gilded cage.But today she had no choice. A supplier emergency. A press call was rearranged. A board member demanded that she “step down for her own mental well-being,” as if being a woman automatically made her fragile.Pathetic.She adjusted her blazer as her assistant came forward."Ma'am… Security wants you to know someone is outside. Someone is asking for you."Lilian stopped.“Who?”Her assistant was hesitant. "Chris Newton."The name slid through the air like a blade.Lilian didn’t breathe for a moment. Not out of fear—she wasn’t—but because of the wave of exhaustion that washed over her. Chris had this effect of siphoning oxygen and clarity, leaving her with nothing but echoes."Is he causing any trouble?" s

The way Jack Macon would knock always made Lilian jittery.Three short raps.A pause.One more soft knock.Not urgent.Not informal, either.Just enough to say: This isn't good, Lilian. Open the door.She drew a quiet breath before letting him in.Jack walked past her with a slow, deliberate stride. He was dressed in dark jeans, black T-shirt, a jacket that carried the faint scent of rain and coffee. Yet his eyes remained the same: cool and sharp."Lock the door," he said in a low tone.She had obeyed without asking why.Jack set a manila file on her dining table. Thick. Overstuffed. A file that had already lived a dangerous life. The corners were bent, its surface scratched.Lilian's heart suddenly quickened. "What's that?"The reason I couldn't sleep last night." He took off his jacket and folded it over the chair. "And probably the reason you won't sleep tonight."She stared at the file.“Jack… what'd you find?”He didn't sit until she did, always waiting for her, one of a hundred

The sun was low in the evening, hidden by the horizon of buildings, casting a gray, heavy glow over Lilian's apartment. The murmur of traffic from below sounded muted, no longer reaching her, as she settled into her sofa, her head reeling with all that Jack's file had brought her. The detective was tenacious, uncovering every lead of funds, every phone call, every small detail that hinted her assault wasn’t random. This was, however, in reality, the key to this puzzle; the player behind this scene appeared unattainable.She had just heard a knock.‘Who would that be? She complained before getting off her bed in a lazy movement.She looked through her peephole. A pang hit her stomach.Chris Newton.For a moment, time stood still. He had a face that was in disarray, battered. Lilian’s heart was racing, far from desire, from memory, from longing.She opened the door a crack."Chris," she said matter-of-factly, trying to find her calm in her voice. "What are you doing here?"“I. I want

Jack Macon had dedicated most of his working life to pondering puzzles that were not meant to be solved.But this, Darcy, Rita, Evelyn Chase, Kelvin, Chris Newton—this was a puzzle that would be solved only after there had been a flow of blood seeping into its tiles.But he towered above the crowded boardroom in the basement operations center, a corner of the station where dust gathered faster than any cop’s career. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed and flickered as if they were weary of illumination itself.Detective Warren Trent slid the last folder across the table with a grunt.“It’s all we could get from the forensic accountants,” he went on. “Six months’ worth of records. You can’t fool patterns, Jack.”“No,” Jack whispered, taking a sip of burnt coffee. “They do.”“This case?” Trent chuckled darkly. “Everybody does.”The board was a maelstrom of red scribbled lines, receipts, fuzzy CCTV images, offshore accounts, and encoded money transfers from shell companies with meanin

The realization didn't come suddenly.It was slow. Quiet. Creeping beneath the surface until the structure no longer had a way to deny damage.Lilian sat across from Jack Macon in his car, parked beneath the looming shadow of a half-completed skyscraper. Rain dripped lazy paths across the windshield, smearing a city into shades of light and dark. She did not notice. She was fixed on the file open in her lap, a set of pages she had read not once but twice, a third time in a futile attempt to alter the reality she read.It didn't"She's always there," Lilian whispered, more to herself than to Jack. "At every turning point."Jack did not interrupt. He learned when not to speak.Lilian turned another page. Dates. Transfers. Names. Shell companies merging into other shell companies like a set of Russian nested dolls. Everything is so very clinical on paper. Bloodless.But she could sense it now, Rita’s fingerprints all over her life.Before the divorce.During the separation.After the pap