Semua Bab The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back : Bab 101 - Bab 110

Ella’s Point of ViewThe guest suite felt smaller after Emerson’s words, the air heavy with the echo of his plea to run, to abandon the life I’d fought so hard to build. I closed the door behind him, my hands trembling, my heart a tangled knot of resolve and hurt. The sunlight streaming through the curtains did little to warm the chill in my chest, the memory of his doubt—siding with Amanda, questioning Shawn—cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. I took a breath, steadying myself, and stepped back into the main room, where Shawn was shrugging on his suit jacket, his cane propped against the armchair, his tie slightly askew. The sight of him, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of his family’s betrayal, grounded me, pulling me back from the edge of my father’s fears.He glanced up, his eyes softening as they met mine, but a flicker of concern crossed his face. “What did Emerson want?” he asked, his voice low, his fingers pausing on his cufflinks, the faint clink of metal sharp i

Ella’s Point of View The ER doors parted with a sharp hiss, unleashing a wave of chaos—beeping monitors, clipped voices, the acrid bite of antiseptic stinging my nose. My heart thudded against my ribs, each step through the maze of gurneys and bustling nurses fueled by a mix of duty and dread. Celeste Hayes—Garrett’s daughter, Cliff’s granddaughter, Shawn’s cousin—her name alone was a spark in my chest, igniting questions I couldn’t answer. Why was she here, asking for me? The hospital’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows, but I pushed the unease down, my scrubs whispering with each determined stride. I was a doctor first, and no matter how viciously the Hayes family schemed against Shawn, a patient deserved my care. Yet the weight of their betrayal—Cliff and Garrett’s relentless pursuit of Shawn’s company—clung to me, a shadow I couldn’t shake as I approached the curtained bay where Celeste waited. She sat on the exam table, her arm encased in a fresh

Shawn’s Point of ViewElla’s words hit like a freight train, the soft “I can’t” slicing through me sharper than any blade. I was still on one knee, the velvet box trembling in my hand, the diamond ring catching the candlelight like a cruel mockery of the future I’d envisioned. Her eyes, glistening with tears, held a pain I couldn’t fathom, and before I could process it, she was gone—her black dress a fleeting shadow as she fled the restaurant, the door swinging shut behind her. The soft piano notes faltered, the murmurs of nearby diners swelling into a hum of whispers, their glances pricking like needles. I knelt there, frozen, the air sucked from my lungs, my mind a storm of disbelief. She said no? Ella said no?The restaurant’s warmth turned stifling, the flicker of candles now a taunt, the clink of wine glasses a hollow echo. I stood slowly, my legs unsteady, the ring box snapping shut in my hand, its weight a stone in my pocket. My heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against my ribs

Shawn’s Point of ViewThe taillights of Ella’s car faded into the night, red pinpricks swallowed by the city’s sprawl, leaving me rooted to the mansion’s driveway, my chest hollowed out like a gutted shell. The air was sharp, biting at my skin, the distant hum of traffic a faint pulse against the silence that enveloped me. Ella was gone—taking Lily, taking the future I’d dared to dream of—and I stood there, powerless, my hands empty, my heart a wreckage of unanswered questions. Her tearful “I’m sorry” echoed in my mind, her trembling voice a ghost that haunted the darkness, but I couldn’t chase her, couldn’t force her to stay when her eyes had held such finality. My cane leaned against the porch railing, forgotten, its absence a reminder that I didn’t need it anymore—physically, at least—but tonight, I felt like I’d collapse without something to hold me up.Sidd, my butler, stepped quietly from the shadows, his weathered face etched with concern, his footsteps soft on the gravel. “

Shawn’s Point of ViewThe office was a fortress of glass and steel, the Chicago skyline sprawling beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows, but it might as well have been a prison. Papers littered my desk—financial reports, shareholder analyses, emails from the board—each one a lifeline to the company my father built, the legacy I was fighting to save. But my eyes kept drifting, unfocused, the numbers blurring into memories of Ella’s smile, Lily’s laugh, the warmth of their presence that had once made the Hayes mansion a home. Now, days after they’d left, the house was a crypt, every room echoing with their absence—the creak of Lily’s rocking chair, the faint scent of Ella’s lavender perfume on the pillows. I gripped my pen, the metal cold against my palm, willing myself to focus, to bury the ache in work, but it was like trying to hold water in my hands.The past week had been a haze, each day heavier than the last. I’d thrown myself into the fight against Cliff and Garrett, my great-un