Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire's Ex-wife is untouchable now: Kabanata 121 - Kabanata 130

Lucian had been restless all morning. Isla noticed it in the way he kept glancing at his phone but he was not typing. She could see the way his jaw clenched then again softened whenever she caught him staring. He was up to something and she knew that much at least.“Stop looking at me like that,” she said finally, her tone dry but her lips tugging at a small smile.“Like what?” he asked innocently, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.“Like a man who’s planning something and hoping his wife won’t notice.”His eyes gleamed at the re word. “Wife,” he repeated softly, savoring the word as though it tasted like wine. “I like the sound of that again.”She shook her head, muttering something under her breath about “arrogant men and their smug faces,” but she felt her cheeks warm.By the afternoon, the mystery unraveled. Lucian appeared in the doorway of her office, his jacket slung casually over his shoulder, those blue eyes burning with that rare mix of determination and tenderness.“Clear yo

The night had wrapped the whole villa in silence, the kind that came after a day brimming with laughter and sun and beyond the wide glass doors, the sea breathed steadily against the shore, its voice softer like a cotton now, like a lullaby. Inside, Aaric had fallen asleep almost the instant his head touched the pillow, worn out from sandcastles and seashell hunts. His toy bucket still sat abandoned by the patio steps, faint grains of sand trailing behind like breadcrumbs.Isla had insisted on letting him rest undisturbed, tucking a light blanket over him, pressing a kiss to his curls. Now, as she stepped outside, the night air kissed her skin which was cool, scented with salt and faintly of the trees nearby.Lucian was already there, seated by the firepit he’d lit. The flames danced passionately, flickering gold against the planes of his face. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled high; a rare sight that made him seem younger, more approachable, less carved out of ma

The sky had already surrendered to dark twilight, the first stars blinking softly as a gentle breeze carried the faint scent of roses from the garden. Lucian’s holiday villa was quiet, apart from the soft sound of cicadas coming from the distance. Today there were no urgent phone calls, meetings to attend. It was only Isla and Lucian falling harder for each other more than before.Lucian had spent the day in preparation, though he insisted he hadn’t. String lights now twinkled like captured constellations, wrapped delicately around the pergola, casting a warm, golden glow over the small garden table he’d set. Candles flickered in glass holders, their flames dancing to the rhythm of the night. He had cooked himself. Very simple, intimate dishes, but meticulously plated, knowing exactly what Isla loved.Isla stepped out onto the terrace, her dress flowing like water in the soft wind, and froze for a heartbeat. Her beautiful storm grey eyes widened as she took in the scene. Lucian stood

After the midday meeting, Isla and Lucian walked back toward the parking garage. The office had settled into a soft silence, the sound of computers and colleague conversations forming a soft background. Lucian’s hand found hers again, fingers brushing naturally around her hand.As they reached the glass doors, Isla’s eyes caught something that made her pause. Across the street, parked inconspicuously by the curb, a sleek black sedan was there. Inside, a woman sat in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, seemingly casual yet her gaze was fixed, unwavering. She wasn’t just passing by the office. She was watching Usla.Isla stiffened, her chest tightening. “Lucian…” she whispered, tugging slightly at his hand to draw his attention.He followed her gaze, his sharp eyes narrowing. The moment he saw the woman, his jaw clenched ever so slightly. There was a familiarity to the intensity in her stare, a calculating presence that didn’t go unnoticed by both Isla and Lucian.“She’s… looking at us,”

The morning sun spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Blackwell mansion, but even its warmth couldn’t reach the tension which surfaced in the air. Lucian sat at his desk, rigid, reviewing reports from his team of spies. His dark eyes narrowed over every detail, every piece of intelligence that had come back about the mysterious woman and her family.“Lucian,” one of his agents reported, voice tight with urgency, “we’ve tracked their history. They’re wealthy, yes, but there’s no known connection to you, to Claire, or to the Blackwell legacy. The family has stayed mostly in Europe. They are discreet, influential, but not public enemies… until now.”Lucian’s jaw clenched. “And the woman Selene Dufort?”“She’s their daughter,” the agent continued, “She in her early thirties, trained in business and finance, very strategic. She’s the one who photographed Miss Montgomery. She’s clearly positioning herself. She is following and watching Miss Montgomery. We don’t know her endga