Semua Bab Loved by My Ex-husband's Rival. : Bab 11 - Bab 20

The invitation arrived on a Tuesday morning like a declaration of war disguised as courtesy. Angela stared at the heavy cream envelope, its embossed letterhead catching the morning light that streamed through her father's kitchen window. The annual Industry Excellence Gala—where careers were made and destroyed over champagne and calculated whispers, where the line between networking and warfare blurred until they became indistinguishable."You have to go," Clara said, looking up from her secure laptop where she managed Angela's growing social media empire from behind multiple layers of encryption and privacy protection. Ever since Angela's divorce had gone public, they'd learned to take digital security seriously. "This is where the real decisions get made. Where producers actually write checks and casting directors remember faces."Angela's father glanced up from his morning crossword, reading glasses perched on his nose. His weathered hands stilled on the newspaper as he took in his

The twins were still small enough that Angela could almost pretend nothing had changed. Almost. It had only been a few days since the gala, and while her body knew she was pregnant—the constant nausea, the exhaustion, the way certain smells made her want to die—the outside world couldn't tell yet. Just a girl in an oversized blazer heading to a business meeting, nothing to see here.Except her hands wouldn't stop shaking."You're going to be fine," Clara said from the driver's seat, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel in that anxious pattern Angela had learned to recognize over years of friendship. "Miranda Chen loved you at the gala. This meeting is just a formality.""A formality where I have to pitch why a divorced, newly pregnant woman with a platform built on disaster recovery is the right choice for their limited series." Angela pressed her palms against her thighs, willing them to steady. "Super casual."Clara glanced at her, green eyes sharp behind her wire-rimmed

Thursday afternoon_Angela stood outside the production office building, Clara beside her for moral support. Her heart was doing complicated things in her chest, and the twins were particularly active today, as if they could sense her nervousness."You've got this," Clara said, squeezing her hand. "Remember—you're here to hear about a job opportunity. That's it. If Alex is there, he's a colleague. Nothing more.""Right. Colleague.""And if he crosses any lines—""You'll destroy him legally.""Exactly." Clara grinned. "Now let's go show them what you're made of."The building was in Culver City, one of those converted warehouse spaces that screamed "creative industry." Inside, the lobby was all exposed brick and industrial lighting, with movie posters lining the walls. A young receptionist with purple hair and an eyebrow ring looked up when they entered."Angela Anderson?""That's me. And this is Clara James, my manager.""Miranda's expecting you both. Third floor, Suite 302. Lift's ju

_ Daniel's POV_Daniel Rourke watched the interview from his home office in the Palisades estate, a glass of thirty-year Macallan sitting untouched on the mahogany desk. The room was designed to impress—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the canyon, first-edition books lining custom shelves, a Damien Hirst piece that had cost more than most people's homes. Everything calibrated to communicate power, taste, permanence.On the screen, Angela sat across from Marcus Chen looking poised and articulate. Confident in a way she'd never been during their marriage. The navy dress was unfamiliar, probably something she'd made herself. She'd always had that talent, that irritating insistence on creating things when she could simply buy them. During their marriage, he'd encouraged her to use the designers his mother recommended, but she'd resisted in small, persistent ways.Now that resistance had apparently blossomed into a whole platform.He watched Clara's montage with the detached interest o

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Alex remarked, holding Angela’s gaze. “Traffic on the 10 was awful, and I stopped to get coffee—something I rarely do, and the queue was just—" He appeared to realize he was going on and on and took a breath. "Sorry, I'm here now." Miranda smiled and brushed away his apologies, as if she had expected them. "You're fine, Alex. Your role isn't demanding. We just got started. Jump in when you're ready." Angela recalled he was an assistant producer. Judging by Miranda's reaction, the series probably had other assistant producers it relied on. Alex walked into the room toward a chair on the other side of the table from Angela, a few chairs down from Miranda. As he walked by her chair, Angela could smell his cologne—cedar and something citrusy. He stopped for a split second, and his hand brushed over the back of her chair. This could have been on purpose or by chance. He whispered, "Hey," just for her. "Hey," Angela said, and she hated how out of breath she soun