All Chapters of My Ex-wife is a Hidden Heiress!: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Tides of RevelationStefan's POV~Rain lashed the streets of Seryne and my tires screeched as I drove into the neon-soaked night. Valenticia's cracked voice, describing a black S.U.V. swerving into her. As a result of her mindless pursuit of Clara, I had told her to wait at the estate, not knowing she would defile me. I thought about the image of her out there on her own hunted by Galden enforcer and the fear alone made me press the gas pedal a little harder. My Glock was against my ribs, a heavy chill, but it was Valenticia’s mention of Clara, her intention not to give her up, that kept the adrenaline coursing through me. I drove into Pier 17, the dock stretching around a field of rusted shipping containers. I sighted her car next. Valenticia’s car was parked nearby, its door open, a shoe which was hers laid next to a container, its edge smeared with blood. My stomach knotted, panic rising, but there were faint footsteps in the wet gravel that led to Lot C. I tip-toed my way followi

Tangled Bonds Valenticias POV~ I jerked awake, my breath burning in my chest, Stefan’s arms holding me tight as the gas dissipated from the safe house. He looked at me with desperately relieved eyes, his voice filled with urgency. “Valenticia, what happened? Are you okay?” My head was throbbing, the memory of collapsing under the gas’s sting fuzzy, but his worry grounded me. “I'm… fine,” I nodded, weak, the hand with the bandages hurting. He swept me up easily, carrying me out to his car, the rain-soaked night slapping against the windows. The car ride was quiet, my mind whirring with Clara’s picture- gagged, imprisoned in the van. The silence was broken by Elaine’s call, which came while at a new safehouse hidden away as a stark bunker in Seryne’s industrial sprawl. “Valenticia,” she said, her voice strained, “I dug into Natasha’s past. Dmitri offered to marry her if she put you in the trouble. It’s personal.” My heart turned over, Dmitri’s betrayal was a wound that never c

Whispers of CourageValencia's POV~I stood in the bathroom of my room, the warm cascade of the shower hitting me as it poured down over me, steam curling around my shoulders that rose high out of the water. I thought of Stefan, and of his voice from last night, outside of Clara’s home, “Come crash at my place tonight”. The words had taken me by surprise, his eyes holding mine with a heat that awakened something deep.I smiled, replaying the memory of the way he had stared at my lips, that moment when the air had become charged with the possibility of what could have been. What if I had taken the first move and stepped close, pressing my lips to his, letting the heat from that spark consume us? A shiver ran through me as my fingers traced my lips imagining, how nice he would have tasted kissing and sucking him, but I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Stefan was something else—solid, protective and guarded, but I simply couldn’t indulge myself, not when that fake video from Natash

Facades Stefan's POV~ The grand ballroom of the gala was throbbing with opulence until the projector flared to life. I felt my heart break as the photo of Valenticia and me on the balcony, her hand in mine was displayed across the screen: The heiress’s lie. The murmurs of the crowd increased in chorus and whispers erupted. Valenticia’s face turned pale, the gold dress she was wearing squeezed by her trembling hands and her eyes wide with fear as she gasped for breath. She gripped my arm, her fingers shaking, with a silent question in her eyes that made me want to die. “Fraud!” a man hissed with his wine glass raised in a pinstripe suit nearby. “If she’s a liar, Clawford’s done.” A woman in emerald silk sneered, “Rosanna’s so desperate, shoving in a nobody.” Their words hurt, but amidst it all, some sympathetic whispers cut through — “Poor girl.” an older CEO murmured. The resentment and the pity mixed. The paparazzi hurdled towards us, their cameras popping like gunshots and their

VenomHailey's POV~The silence of the penthouse shattered as I threw a crystal vase against the wall. The humiliation from the gala stunned—Stefan’s cold rejection still ringing in her ears. I’d pulled him aside, my smile coy, and introduced him to an executive as “my first lover, the one who broke my heart.” His eyes had sparked, his jaw clenched, and he’d snarled, “Do not know her,” and shoved me out of his path, proving me a fool in front of the elite of Seren. My chest hitched, jealousy clawing my heart as I imagined him with her—Valenticia, beautiful Valenticia. I staggered to the shining glass, my reflection a perfect specimen, a set of crimson lips the image of my raven hair, though my eyes were filled with rage. When I was 18, I tried to seduce Stefan, putting vodka in his drink at a Lovtan party, his tie loose, shirt half unbuttoned. Even drunk, he’d still shoved me, drunk and muttered “Not you, Haisley.” Now, he’d arrived at the gala with Valenticia; his hand on her waist,