Semua Bab The Billionaire's Ex-Wife Wants Revenge : Bab 111 - Bab 120

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•The car slowed to a smooth stop in front of the towering mansion, its pristine white exterior bathed in the soft glow of carefully placed lights that illuminated the grand entrance. The sheer size of the estate was overwhelming, sprawling across acres of meticulously manicured lawns, with towering columns lining the entrance like an invitation to step into another world—one dripping in wealth, power, and exclusivity. The driver stepped out first, swiftly moving to open the doors for them. Hailey was the first to exit, her heels clicking against the stone pavement as she took her first real look at the mansion in its entirety. Her breath hitched slightly, and without hesitation, she gasped, her eyes widening with admiration. Nathan followed closely behind, his steps slower as he took in the details—the towering gates, the endless stretch of gardens wrapping around the estate, the luxury cars parked neatly in the private driveway, each vehicle gleaming under the dim l

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•Zayn hesitated for a brief moment, clearing his throat awkwardly before shifting slightly, his posture subtly stiffening under the weight of the situation. His eyes flickered toward Katherine before finally settling on the woman beside him."This is Isabella Seymour," he said, his voice carefully measured, though there was a quiet tension beneath it. "Isabella, this is Katherine."Katherine’s breath caught in her throat as her mind scrambled to process the name. Isabella Seymour...?Her eyes widened, the realization crashing into her like a sudden wave. Of course. That’s why she had seemed so familiar—that striking red hair, the effortless confidence, the piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t just anyone. She was 'the' Isabella Seymour, the globally renowned actress, the woman whose face had been plastered across magazine covers, whose name carried power in Hollywood and beyond.Katherine’s fingers instinctively tightened around her clutch, her pulse quickening ever so slight

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•Katherine stood in the hallway, her hands clasped together in front of her as she tried to steady her breathing. The anticipation of meeting Victor Alistair Hogan, Zayn's grand father–weighed heavily on her, each possible scenario running through her mind in an endless loop. Would he judge her for her past? Would he see her only as Castiel’s ex-wife rather than as herself? She barely noticed when Zayn stepped into view, his presence so effortless that it was as if he had always been there, watching. He took one look at her—her tense posture, the way she kept smoothing nonexistent wrinkles on her dress—and smirked. “You’re thinking too much,” he remarked, amusement laced through his voice. Katherine exhaled slowly, flicking her gaze to him. “I just... don’t know what to expect.” Zayn shook his head lightly, as if her worries were unnecessary. “My grandfather...he...uh, he can be difficult at times but he's a wise man, Katherine,” he assured her. “I'm he'll appr

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•Katherine lay in bed, staring up at the high, intricately carved ceiling, the dim glow from the bedside lamp casting elongated shadows across the luxurious space. The night had stretched on far longer than she had anticipated, yet sleep remained stubbornly out of reach. The exhaustion was there—settled in her limbs, pressing behind her eyes—but her mind refused to quiet itself. The realization of what lay ahead weighed heavily on her, pressing against her chest like an invisible force. She had expected challenges when she agreed to stay the weekend, had prepared herself for navigating awkward conversations, had even accepted that she would be subjected to silent scrutiny by Victor Alistair himself. But she had not anticipated them. The thought alone made her pulse quicken uncomfortably. Castiel. Caroline. Isabella fucking Seymour. Her fingers tightened slightly around the silk sheets as she exhaled, trying to steady herself. She didn’t need to see them in pe

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•The afternoon air was crisp, carrying the faint aroma of ripened grapes and the earthy scent of soil warmed under the fading sunlight. The vineyard stretched beyond the balcony, rows upon rows of neatly arranged vines swaying gently in the evening breeze. The golden glow of the setting sun bathed the landscape in warm hues, painting the distant hills in shades of amber and violet. Victor sat with his hands resting on the smooth surface of the marble table before him, a glass of deep red wine beside his fingers. His posture was composed, effortless in the way only an old man accustomed to power could manage. He did not turn as Katherine stepped onto the balcony, though she knew he was aware of her presence the moment she arrived because he had called her. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the seat across from him, acutely aware of the weight of this conversation, the expectation hanging between them. Victor let the silence stretch, watching the