Semua Bab Mr Billionaire's Regret: Ex-wife Returns With His Triplets.: Bab 181 - Bab 190

The shrill ring of my phone sliced through the quiet.At first, it didn’t register because I was still floating in that hazy space between sleep and reality, tangled in sheets, the city’s hum just a faint backdrop. But the phone kept ringing. Relentless. Sharp. Like it knew today wasn’t going to be ordinary.I cracked my eyes open. Sunlight speared through the blinds, painting harsh lines across the ceiling. The phone buzzed again, vibrating against the nightstand like it was trying to leap into my hands.Groaning, I reached for it.Rita.Why was Rita calling at—I squinted at the clock. 6:43 AM.Something must be wrong.Before I could answer, another buzz. A text this time.Rita: Helen, pick up. It’s bad.My stomach dropped. I sat up, sheets pooling around my waist, heart thudding as I answered the call.“Rita?”“Oh, thank God. Helen, are you up? You need to see this. Right now.”“What’s going on?” My voice was hoarse, laced with the remnants of last night’s Merlot and too little

I didn’t expect the call. I didn't expect the news. I didn’t expect any of this.When the first news alert popped up on my phone that morning, I thought it was some recycled gossip piece about one of my clients. My mornings are always noise — stocks, emails, updates from PR, some tabloid story about someone in my circle. Most of it which I don’t even care to open.But this headline stopped me cold.HELEN FLETCHER SCANDAL: THE AFFAIR THAT SHOOK HOLLYWOOD.Her name.Her face.Front and center.And not just a photo — it was a video.My coffee sat untouched. My phone screen lit up with clip after clip. The footage wasn’t even clean. It was grainy, like it had been shot from a corner, or maybe from a hidden camera. But the way it was framed, the way it zoomed in at just the right moment — Helen and Jace, that kiss — it was deliberate.My first reaction? Anger.Not because she kissed him. God knows, Helen’s free to do what she wants.But because of how public it was.Because I knew what

The rain hadn’t stopped since I left the club. Although it wasn't a storm, it wasn't even that heavy. Just that steady, quiet drizzle that soaks into your jacket and makes the roads shine like black glass. It kept my wipers moving in a slow rhythm, like a metronome ticking in the background of my thoughts. I had nothing to show for hours of chasing leads.Nothing from Victor, nothing from the staff, nothing from the so-called “friends” who suddenly had no memory of anything useful.I let out a harsh exhale in frustration. When a trail is cold, there’s usually a reason — maybe the person’s too smart, or maybe they’re too scared. But this trail wasn’t cold. It was frozen, and frozen meant someone had worked hard to make sure there was nothing left for me to find.And that… that felt personal.As the car slid along the wet road, I started running the list of people who could pull this off. Not just pull it off, but pull it off without leaving a single trace.Names came and went, most

The city was still half-asleep when I started my day, but I’d been awake since four. Not out of choice, my mind wouldn’t just shut down long enough to give me the courtesy of rest.The penthouse was silent except for the faint hum of the floor-to-ceiling windows against the early-morning wind. I stood with my hands braced on the edge of my desk, staring down at the file spread before me. Photos, bank transfers, club security rosters. My own private war room.Callum arrived without knocking, not that he ever knocked anyways. Six-two, ex-military, dressed in black from head to toe. He moved like a man who didn’t waste energy on anything he didn’t have to.“You’ve got something,” I said, reading it in his face.“We traced the club security roster from that night,” he said. “Your guy’s name is Bryan Keats. Left town forty-eight hours after the footage dropped. We’ve got eyes on him now — small motel in Fairview, about three hours north.”I straightened, a slow smile pulling at my mouth.

The call from Callum came just as I was closing my laptop.“Mason’s still on Keats,” he said without preamble. “But the guy’s starting to twitch. Changing walking patterns, checking reflections in shop windows, doubling back on streets he’s already walked.”“He knows he’s being followed?”“Not exactly, but he feels it. Big difference. But here’s the real update — Mason thinks he’s headed for The Velvet Lantern tonight. Alone.”That pulled my attention all the way in. “And you’re sure it’s not a diversion?”Callum hesitated. “Can’t say for certain, but if Keats is meeting someone there, it’s not a social call. The Lantern’s the kind of place you go when you want to be seen by the right people and forgotten by everyone else.”The kind of place Rose practically built a wing in.I leaned back in my chair, thinking it through. Keats was the weak link in Rose’s chain, the hired hand who’d moved the footage out of the club’s system. If he was making contact now, it meant something was in mot