All Chapters of Billionaire ex-husband craves me back: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Sophia's POV The Monday morning air was crisp, carrying a hint of the late autumn chill, but inside me, a different kind of tension brewed. Today was the day. My first day at Mark Lance Industries, starting from the absolute bottom. It felt surreal, a contrast to the life I had known, a life that had imploded just days ago. But I’d made a promise to myself: I would learn, I would understand, and I would never let anyone treat me with such callous disregard again.I arrived early, wanting to get my bearings before the rush. The building itself was an imposing glass and steel, a testament to the wealth and power it housed. I smoothed down my simple, practical trousers and the plain blouse I’d chosen. They felt comfortable, familiar, a small anchor in the sea of uncertainty I was navigating. I walked towards the main entrance, taking a deep breath before pushing through the revolving doors.The lobby was vast. Polished marble floors gleamed under the soft, recessed lighting, reflecting

Donald's POVThat morning, I had gone through the weekly finance report, but the figures I saw weren't just adding up. I had to summon the entire finance team to trash out the issue.“Explain this,” I demanded, my voice a low growl that echoed in the unnerving silence. I gestured sharply at the offending documents, the polished wood of the table cold beneath my white-knuckled grip. “What is going on here? These numbers… they don’t add up. Not by a long shot.”Arnold, the head of finance, a man usually brimming with an almost irritating self-assurance, looked decidedly unnerved. His tie, normally impeccably straight, had shifted slightly, a subtle sign of his disquiet. The rest of his department, a collection of earnest, pale faces, seemed to shrink in their seats, their eyes darting everywhere but at me.“Mr. Briggs,” Arnold began, his voice carefully modulated, as if he were navigating a minefield. “We’re still looking into the discrepancies. It appears to be a complex issue, possibl

Sophia's POV The familiar weight of exhaustion settled deep into my bones as I unlocked the back door of the house. It was another day at my cleaning job, and the day had been relentlessly demanding. Floors five through ten of the administrative department felt like a lifetime ago, and my muscles ached with a dull, persistent throb. All I wanted was the quiet solitude of my room, a chance to crash hard on the bed, so as to help the fatigue in my body.As I slipped inside the house, I caught sight of one of the staff in my father's company. I wasn’t entirely sure what his role was. He seemed to be everywhere, always but mostly near my father, looking important. He was engaged in a hushed, intense discussion with my father, their voices low and serious in the hallway. A prickle of unease shot through me. I didn’t want to be seen. That would raise room for questions. My new job was supposed to be about observation, about learning how people were treated, but it wasn’t about revealing my

Sophia's POV I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and I found it quite hard to recognize the woman that stared back at me. What the hell was that with Donald? I berated myself, finding it hard to believe I could let him rile me up like that. I didn't want to think of the glint I saw in his eyes when he mentioned me refusing the divorce settlement. That had broken the calm within me. I had tried to keep a straight face, trying to act all formal but just like I knew him, he had chosen to be petty. It took all my will power not to hit him across the face when he brought up the divorce. I mean, why the hell would he do that when he was the one who wanted out of our marriage? I shook my head, refusing to allow the anger burning inside me to continue. If Donald still has the ability to make me react this badly, then I'm not yet over him. I heaved a breath, telling myself I wouldn't sulk or let Donald's nasty attitude get to me, and that did the magic. The door to the general

Sophia's POV The weekend arrived like a gentle breeze of relief after a particularly turbulent week. The relentless pace of my cleaning job, the unexpected drama at the gala, and the encounter with Lydia had left me feeling stretched thin. So, when Saturday finally rolled around, bringing with it a quiet calm, I embraced it fully. It was just me and my father in the sprawling house; I had made sure to give the maids the weekend off, and I, too, was taking a much-needed break from my duties at the office. The silence in the house was much needed for me to relax after such a stressful week.I decided to treat myself, and my father, to a home-cooked meal. There was something deeply satisfying about creating something delicious with my own hands, especially after a week of scrubbing and polishing. The kitchen, usually an array of professional culinary activity, felt cozy and personal as I busied myself with chopping vegetables and stirring sauces. My favorite dish, a rich, aromatic chick