บททั้งหมดของ The Billionaire's Ex-wife is untouchable now: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

The plane touched down in Rome just after 6:45 p.m., the Mediterranean sun casting a burnt orange haze over the marble like city.Isla stared out of the window as they descended, her fingers curled tightly around the armrest. She hadn’t said much during the flight and Lucian hadn’t pushed her to talk as well. Silence had formed a fragile bridge between them. It was unspoken, yet heavy with everything they’d both endured over the past few years.It wasn’t just grief anymore. It was purposeful and they were determined to find their child.Aaric. Their son.They were chasing answers. They were chasing their Aaric The car Lucian had arranged waited near the arrivals gate. A sleek black Mercedes with tinted windows, and a man in a suit who didn’t speak a word and drove silently. They drove through the cobbled streets of Rome as night fell fast, the Colosseum and Trevi Fountain blurring past like fading ghosts in dark night. Isla barely noticed the historic beauty this time as her mind wa

Florence was behind them now, but the unease wasn’t. Isla sat in the back of the car as they crossed into Milan, her eyes fixated on the faded letters they had recovered from the trunk inside the House of Ashes. Each line hinted at something darker and dangerous."He's not just hidden. He’s been renamed," Lucian had said. That sentence had burrowed into Isla’s mind like a dagger.And now, they were chasing the financial trail.***Back at the Blackwell office in Milan, Elena sat at a desk littered with hard drives and external monitors, her face glowing under the cool blue hue of multiple screens. She looked up when Lucian and Isla entered.“I cracked into one of the old shell companies Claire used,” she said. “And you’re not going to like it.”She pulled up a screen showing spreadsheets and. thousands of euros transferred from an offshore account based in Luxembourg. Most of the recipients were untraceable entities, but one name stood out.Ezra Godwin.“Elena, who is he?” Isla asked.

The city of Venice shimmered beneath a grey, watery light. Gondolas drifted lazily down the canals, the air thick with salt and secrets. Isla stepped off the water taxi with her coat cinched tightly at the waist, the cobblestones slick under her boots. Beside her, Lucian scanned the street, his expression unreadable beneath dark sunglasses.They hadn’t spoken much since some hours. Not since the almost-kiss. Not since Isla pulled away like her heart was a grenade and his mouth the pin.Now, Venice greeted them with a different kind of silence. A silence filled with cold wind, distant bells, and an undercurrent of dread neither of them could name together.“Leo’s already here,” Lucian said, checking his phone. “He wants us to meet him near the San Polo district.”“Of course he does.” Isla’s tone was flat, suspicious. “How convenient.”Lucian shot her a glance. “Let's see what he does this time. What do you think?”“I think Leo’s always been a step ahead. And that doesn’t happen without

Venice was colder that morning, grey clouds folding over the canals like blankets of mourning. Isla sat on the edge of the hotel bed, shoulders wrapped in Lucian’s coat, staring at the still laptop screen.She hadn’t slept since they got back from the villa. The bruises on her wrist from Eugenia’s grip still throbbed in pain, but it wasn’t the pain that haunted her. It was the look on that woman’s face which haunted her the most.Lucian stood at the window, his phone pressed to his ear. "Yes. Anything with the surname Costa. Issued around 2023. Birth year: 2019. Use the Blackwell clearance code. Push hard if you have to."He turned back to Isla as the call ended. His voice was low. "Elena’s digging up hard. But the name’s buried deeper than we expected. Noah Costa. We need to find where he is."Isla glanced at him. "Claire buried him in plain sight."As if on cue, Elena’s video call lit up the screen. Her face was pale, dark circles under her eyes as a proof pf how hard she was pushin

Snow dotted the road leading up to the elite boarding school nestled in the Swiss Alps. It was the kind of place reserved for aristocrats and billionaire heirs. The building itself looked more like a chateau than a school, with grey stone walls, steep slate roofs, and ivy curling up its facade. There were no banners, no cheerful welcome signs, just old money silence, aesthetic and stiff elegance.Lucian parked the car at the lower courtyard, his eyes narrowing at the school’s insignia engraved above the wrought-iron gate: Veritas et Fortitudo - truth and strength.“I can’t believe he might be here,” Isla whispered, staring up at the building, her heart feeling warm aith the prospect of finally meeting her child. “It feels… unreal.”Lucian’s jaw tightened. “It’s real. Too real. I hope it's true.”The headmaster's office was on the second floor, overlooking a serene and frozen lake. A man in his sixties sat behind the desk. He was the Headmaster Reinart, his shoulders broad, his smile d