Semua Bab The 18 Billion Wife He Abandoned : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Emma stepped out of the taxi in front of Mitchell Tower, a gleaming seventy-story monument to her grandfather’s business success. Sunglasses firmly in place, she’d swapped yesterday’s jeans for a simple navy dress. Her divorce-papers-to-the-face makeover. The security guard nodded as she entered. “Morning, Ms. Carter.” She smiled at the use of her mother’s maiden name—the one she’d been using professionally for the past year. As far as anyone knew, Emma Carter was just another employee at Mitchell Industries, not Emma Mitchell Reynolds, granddaughter of Franklin Mitchell and soon-to-be-ex-wife of hockey star Jack Reynolds. The executive elevator whisked her to the top floor. No scan, no keycard needed—it recognized her face. Money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could buy really cool tech. Franklin Mitchell’s assistant—a perpetually frazzled man named Walter who’d been with him for thirty years—jumped up when she arrived. “He’s waiting for you, Ms. Carter. Can I get you coffee?” “I’m f

Emma stood in front of her closet, surrounded by discarded outfits. The floor looked like a department store during an earthquake."It's just dinner," she told her reflection. "A business dinner."A business dinner at Alek's place. Where he would cook. And they would be alone.Her phone rang—Mia calling."Please tell me you're not wearing that black pencil skirt you think is professional but actually makes you look like a sexy librarian," Mia said without preamble.Emma looked down at the black pencil skirt she'd just put on. "How did you—""Because I know you. And this isn't a quarterly review, Em. It's dinner at Hot Russian's apartment.""His name is Alek, and it's a business dinner." Emma kicked off the skirt. "And how do you know he's Russian?""I googled him the second you mentioned his name. Harvard Business School, former defenseman for Moscow Dynamo, came to the NHL at twenty-two, career-ending knee injury at twenty-six, MBA while rehabbing, absolute smoke show.""You're terri

For three excruciating seconds, no one moved. Emma’s lipstick was smudged. Alek’s usually perfect hair stuck up where her fingers had been. And Jack’s face had turned a shade of red previously unknown to science. “Jack—” Emma started. “Don’t.” Jack held up his hand, eyes darting between them. “Just... don’t.” Alek moved slightly in front of Emma, his body language protective but not aggressive. “Reynolds, this isn’t what you—” “Isn’t what I think?” Jack laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Because it looks like my boss is sticking his tongue down my wife’s throat.” “Soon-to-be-ex-wife,” Emma corrected, finding her voice. “You made that choice, remember?” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “So what, this is revenge? Sleep with my boss to get back at me?” “Not everything is about you, Jack.” Emma stepped around Alek. “And nobody’s sleeping with anyone.” “Yet,” Jack spat. “How long has this been going on? Were you fucking him while we were still together?” Alek’s jaw tightened. “Watch your mouth, Reynolds.

Emma stared at her ceiling fan, watching it spin lazily above her bed. Sleep had been impossible after Jack’s unexpected visit. His bloodshot eyes and rumpled suit kept replaying in her mind, along with Alek’s tense jaw when he’d appeared at her door. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand: Morning meeting canceled. Take the day. - A She smiled at Alek’s thoughtfulness. After last night’s drama, a day off was exactly what she needed. Two hours later, Emma was deep into her third cup of coffee at her favorite café, a tiny place three blocks from her apartment where no one cared about hockey or recognized star players’ ex-wives. She’d spread financial reports across the table, focusing on work to avoid thinking about Jack or Alek or the ticking clock of her divorce. “Is this seat taken?” Emma’s head snapped up. Jack stood before her, dressed in jeans and a casual button-down—a far cry from last night’s disheveled suit. He looked rested, sober, and frustratingly handsome. “How did you find m

“You’re staring at me,” Alek said without opening his eyes. Emma propped herself on one elbow, watching the morning light play across his face. “Can you blame me?” They lay in Alek’s bed, sheets tangled around them. After leaving the hospital the previous night, they’d barely made it through his front door before months of tension had finally broken. What followed was everything Emma had imagined during those long weeks of professional distance—and considerably more. “We should have done this sooner,” Alek murmured, pulling her closer. “Professional boundaries,” Emma reminded him, though she didn’t sound particularly convinced by her own argument. “Overrated.” He kissed her shoulder. “Besides, you’re technically my boss now.” Emma laughed. “Not until Monday.” His phone buzzed on the nightstand. Alek glanced at it and groaned. “Hockey never sleeps.” “Answer it,” Emma said, sliding out of bed and grabbing his discarded shirt. “I’ll make coffee.” In the kitchen, Emma moved with surprisin