All Chapters of The Untouchable Boss: I Quit Being Your Wife: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

RILEY’S POVJax walked into the conference room beside me, and though our bodies didn’t touch, I could feel the heat of his presence on my skin. Caleb was already at the far end of the table, leaning casually against the wall while chatting with Eve, the design team lead, who was busy connecting her laptop to the projector. She had a neat bun and a blazer that looked like it had never met a wrinkle in its life.Jax didn’t bother keeping his distance once we approached the table. He slid into the chair next to me, and pulled the chair close to mine, closer than necessary, and as he settled in, his arm brushed against mine under the table. The contact was so subtle that it could’ve been accidental, but I knew better, nothing about Jax Maddox was accidental. My pulse raced and thudded fast against my skin as his fingers brushed my knee again. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and quickly opened my notebook, f

Dune’s POVThe hallway outside my apartment thudded with heavy, hurried footsteps. Elias stormed through the door, looking desperate and out of breath. His shirt clung tight to his back, damp with sweat, his eyes were wild like a cornered animal as he panted fast. His hand trembled as he gripped a small black flash drive.I hurriedly rose from my chair in one fluid motion, my stomach coiling with anticipation. Before he could even catch his breath or utter a word, my hand shot out and snatched the flash drive from his grasp.I strode across the cluttered room toward my battered laptop, sitting patiently on the desk.Elias shifted behind me, avoiding my gaze. His fingers twitched nervously, his whole body tense, waiting for what was coming next.The screen flickered to life, folders popping open instantly. I skimmed through spreadsheets littered with names of the basketball players, dates, the bets placed, and payout amount

Jax’s POVThe elevator doors slid open and I stepped into my penthouse. My fists were still clenched on instinct. Riley was the first thing I noticed when I entered. She was curled up on the sofa with one of my shirts draped over her legs. She looked up as soon as I stepped inside. Her eyes locked on me, sharp and searching my face.“Jax?” Her voice was soft but laced with worry. “What happened? You look like you’re about to punch through a wall.”I tossed my keys onto the counter harder than I should have. My chest felt too tight, too heavy. I didn’t want to unload all this on her—but the words were already clawing up my throat.“Elias.” Just saying his name made my teeth grind. “That bastard broke into my room. Went through my things. He stole my flash drive, went through my documents as well.”Riley sat up straighter, tension flickering in her expression. “What’s on the drive?” “All the information about the underground matches.”I dragged a hand through my hair as I said it, pac

Jax’s PovI sat there long after my lawyer left, staring at the empty glass in front of me. The silence of the penthouse felt too loud. Riley had gone to bed. I should have joined her. I should have closed my eyes and pretended, even just for one night, that everything wasn’t caving in around me.But I couldn’t.My mind kept replaying every word the lawyer had said: penalties, fines, jail time, ruin. Elias had me in a chokehold without even being in the same room. The smug bastard probably knew it too.I ran a hand down my face, the sting of frustration tightening my chest. My mother’s frail body was still lying in a hospital bed, slipping further away each day, and instead of being with her I was here, drowning. I poured myself another drink, the amber liquid burned its way down my throat. It didn’t help. Nothing did.There was only one thought in my head. One name.Leo.I hated that my mind went to him. Out of all the people in this city, he was the last man I wanted to owe anythin

Elias’s POVMy motel bathroom smelled like bleach and mold, the cheap sour air clung to my lungs, cracking up my inside and breaths.I stood in front of the bathroom mirror with my sleeves rolled up, a face latex mask was stretched out across the sink. My fingers moved fast, I had done this several times before, but it never lost its importance. One little slip, one lazy day, and I’d end up in a prison cell or worse, a grave.The mask was soft and I pressed it over my skin, molding it carefully until it fit tight against my jawline. Then I applied makeup around it to blend the edges. When I was done, I put on a wig: short hair this time and I parted it neatly. I picked up the green contacts from its container and placed it over my own pupils.I felt my gut twisting, paranoia whispering inside of me, telling me today would be the last time I made it out alive. Faces of men I’d fooled with flickered in my head. I remembered the cop outside Amsterdam who swore he’d seen me before. I had