All Chapters of Married to my ex-husband's boss: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

ELLE'S POV The waiting was the worst part. Every day, I checked my phone like a nervous tic, hoping for a message from Raymond about the things his spy had discovered. A single text with something—anything—that could help us tear down the wall closing in on us. But each time my screen lit up, it was never any of that. Instead, more bad news came trickling in, drop by drop, until it felt like the entire company was drowning. The stocks had been sliding downhill for days. Not a dramatic crash—at least not yet—but a steady, dangerous decline that made my stomach twist every time I glanced at the numbers. A few loyal employees still came in with their heads held high, but others… well, some didn’t even bother showing up anymore. And the ones who resigned didn’t leave quietly; they left with whispers and sideways looks, still burned by the threat Raymond had made weeks ago. He didn’t talk about it much these past few days. On the surface, he was still Raymond—the sharp, controlle

RAYMOND'S POVThe conference hall was laid out like a battlefield.Rows of chairs stretched across the floor in orderly lines, each one occupied by reporters clutching notepads, recorders, and cameras. The air was warm from the sheer number of bodies packed inside, the faint hum of whispered conversations carrying just enough to keep the room tense.At the far back, a row of tall tripods held cameras pointed directly at the podium, their blinking red lights like unblinking eyes. Behind them, more journalists stood, leaning over each other’s shoulders to get a better view.The front two rows were different. Those seats had been reserved—not for the press, but for the people who mattered most to me in this fight. Loyal employees, both current and retired, filled them. Men and women I had worked alongside for years sat with their shoulders squared and their eyes fixed forward. Maria from floor management. Clyde took his seat just off-center, his hands now resting on his knees. Even old

ELLE'S POV Two days later, the tide finally began to shift. Nita had delivered her confession, just as we had agreed—well, partially. I sat cross-legged on the couch, the remote clutched so tightly in my hand that my knuckles ached. The evening segment’s intro music faded, and there she was—Nita Jones—framed beneath the blinding glare of the studio lights. She looked nothing like the cocky reporter I had met days ago. Her skin was washed pale under the lights, and the way she kept smoothing her hands over the stack of papers in front of her told me she was nervous. “Good evening,” She began, clearing her throat. Her eyes darted to the teleprompter, then back to the camera. “I… I have a correction to issue regarding a previous report on Raymond Orlando.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. "Come on, Nita. Don’t screw this up," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling just enough to sound authentic. “The article in quest

ELLE'S POV My stomach turned cold, a knot tightening in my chest. “The hospital?” My voice came out barely above a whisper. “Why—what happened to her?”The officer’s expression tightened. He glanced once at Raymond before answering.“We went to execute the warrant this morning. The usual standard procedure. We knocked, announced ourselves, and identified who we were. She saw us, panicked… and pulled out a gun.”I felt my knees weaken. “A gun?”He nodded grimly. “She fired at us. Two shots. Hit the wall. We had no choice but to return fire. One of our men’s bullets connected. We subdued her immediately, called in medics, and rushed her to the hospital.”My heart hammered so hard I thought I might faint. My hand instinctively reached for the edge of the counter to steady myself.“She’s… she’s alive?” I forced out the question, my voice trembling.The officer hesitated, and I hated the way his silence stretched for even a second too long.“She’s alive,” he said finally. “But her condit

ELLE’S POV “…if we can finalize the upgrade by next quarter, we’ll have leverage to negotiate new partnerships,” One of the younger engineers was saying, gesturing toward the glowing slide behind him. I tried to focus, but his words blurred into meaningless shapes. The numbers on the screen swam, my temples pounding harder with every second. A wave of dizziness rippled through me, forcing me to grip the edge of the table until my knuckles whitened. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Alright,” I said abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence. “That’s enough for today. Please send me your reports by the end of the day.” The room fell into an awkward silence before the shuffle of movement began. Laptops snapped shut, chairs scraped against the floor, and soon the conference room emptied—everyone filing out without a second glance. Everyone except Jessica. She lingered, watching me closely. When the door finally shut behind the last analyst, she crossed the room, her brows knitted w