All Chapters of The Billionaire's Ex-wife is untouchable now: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The night was velvet stillness, pierced only by the sound of waves brushing against the private villa’s shore. Candles glowed faintly inside the suite, their light catching on crystal glasses and silk sheets, throwing shadows that swayed like whispers on the wall. The couple had reached the Villa already and little Aaric was already asleep in his room.Lucian stood by the balcony doors, his frame outlined against the silver spill of moonlight. He wasn’t the ruthless Blackwell CEO right now, nor the man who had burned her in the past with arrogance, silence and cold detachment. Tonight, he was simply Lucian, the man whose eyes searched only for her. The man who loved her madly, crazily and obsessively.Isla watched him for a long moment. She had seen him in so many forms: brutal in boardrooms, fierce in arguments, desperate when he thought she would leave him forever. But tonight, there was a softness about him that made her chest ache. The storm was gone. He looked as though he had be

Isla, Lucian and Aaric had gone back to New York after their joyful vacation. The next week evening unfolded with a scenery, like the whole city itself was holding its breath. Isla had just returned from a long board meeting, her heels clicking softly against the white marble of Lucian’s penthouse as she slipped inside. Their son had fallen asleep early, curled with his little storybook in hand, and for once, there was no chaos and no ringing of phones or deadlines. What remained was only the muted warmth of lamps and the faint scent of sandalwood drifting through the air.Lucian stood by the window, hands in his pockets, posture deceptively casual. Yet the way his storm bour eyes followed her, it was charged with something she couldn’t name and it made her pause.“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked softly, loosening the clasp of her hair.“Looking as if I don’t already know every part of you,” he murmured, “and yet I want to discover you all over again.”The words made

The echo of fireworks still glimmered in the silence when they stepped back into the penthouse. The night air clung faintly to Isla’s hair, the cold sharpness of weather tucked between strands of her dark waves, and Lucian’s hand hovered protectively at the small of her back as though he feared she might slip away if he didn’t keep her close.The city outside was still alive, though muted now. From the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the horizon was faintly illuminated with the afterglow of color that had briefly painted the sky. But inside, all was hushed and silent. A quiet that seemed fragile, sacred and pure.Isla dropped her heels by the door, sighing as her bare feet touched the warm marble floor. She stretched, graceful even in fatigue, and moved toward the sofa, sinking into it with a languid ease that spoke more of relief than exhaustion.Lucian lingered near the door a moment longer, watching her. The sight pulled something deep and unnameable from him. She looked at

The first photographs of the couple appeared the morning after.At first, Isla didn’t notice it. She was halfway through a cappuccino in the Blackwell penthouse kitchen, scrolling absently through her phone while the early shiny light bled through the tall windows. Lucian was still in the shower. The apartment smelled faintly of his cologne, of roasted coffee beans, of the kind of rare, fragile peace they had managed to carve out for themselves the past few nights.Her notifications, however, told a different story.“The Blackwell marriage seems to be going well?”“The most ruthless CEO seen hand-in-hand with his ex-wife.”“Isla Montgomery and Lucian Blackwell: Reunion or convenient PR stunt?”The headlines blurred into one another, the photos were sharper than knives. One of them captured the moment last night when Lucian had leaned down and tucked a stray curl behind her ear during the fireworks. Another showed the way his hand had been pressed to the small of her back as they enter

The city had begun to shift toward spring, an evening where the air carried just enough warmth to soften winter’s sharp fang like bite. Isla had thought it was going to be another quiet dinner at home, simple, safe with Aaric and Lucian but Lucian had other plans.When she walked into the car that evening, he was already waiting for her, dressed in one of those perfectly tailored charcoal suits that managed to make him look even more devastating and unapproachably composed. Yet his eyes betrayed those softer emotions when they landed on her form.“Where are we going?” she asked, sliding into the seat, her brows lifting with suspicion.“You’ll see,” he replied simply, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.It was infuriating, that half-smile of his. Years ago it sometimes unsettled her because it always meant he was hiding something. Tonight, though, she caught herself studying it with a quiet ache, remembering what it felt like to be the woman who once saw past his masks, who believ