All Chapters of We Divorced Now He Wants Me Back (Billionaire Contract Wife): Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The moment my plane touched down, the familiar scent of the city slapped me in the face—heavy, arrogant, busy. The kind of city that thrived on people like me. The kind of city that had learned to fear people like him.I stepped out of the private entrance with nothing but my coat, my suitcase, and a head full of unfinished thoughts. For the past week, my life had been nothing but chaos. Flying in and out of Paris, handling projects, dealing with the twins’ schedules, and keeping Alice sane enough to sleep at night. I barely had time to catch my breath, much less attend to the nonsense brewing here.But the moment I entered the car, my assistant Samuel turned in his seat and said the one thing I had expected yet still didn’t want to hear.“Sir… President Markson wants a private meeting with you. Tonight.”I stared at him for a long second.“Tonight?” I repeated slowly.Samuel nodded. “Yes, sir. The message came twenty minutes ago. He asked… no, he stated that you should be available.”

Morning in Paris always felt different.There was a softness to it, even when the city was already alive—cars moving, people walking briskly along sidewalks, cafés opening their doors, the smell of fresh bread floating faintly through the air. The sky that morning was pale blue, streaked with thin clouds that looked almost painted, as if the city itself had been carefully designed by an artist who understood beauty in restraint.I sat in the backseat of the car, my posture straight but my thoughts scattered, as my driver navigated through the familiar streets. My assistant sat beside me, tablet in hand, scrolling endlessly as she updated me on the day ahead.“Your first meeting is at ten,” she said, glancing up briefly. “Then the design review by eleven. The competition briefing is at one, and—”“I know,” I said gently, a faint smile touching my lips. “You’ve already told me twice.”She laughed softly, unapologetic. “This is not just any competition. Everyone will be there.”I leaned

Two days later.Only two days remained before the competition officially began.And those two days… had been hell.Pure, unfiltered hell.If someone had told me six years ago that the man who once shattered my world would return only to disrupt my present so thoroughly, I would have laughed bitterly. Yet here I was, sitting behind my office desk in Paris, exhaustion etched deep into my bones, my patience worn thin to the point of snapping.Vincent Markson.Again.And again.And again.For the past two days, he had been everywhere.Every meeting.Every discussion.Every negotiation.Like a shadow I couldn’t shake off.He kept showing up unannounced, sitting across from me with that calm, unreadable expression, pretending—pretending —as if he didn’t understand the contract clauses. Asking questions he absolutely did not need answers to. Delaying discussions. Requesting revisions that were unnecessary.And worst of all?He specifically requested me.Every single time.Not another executi

The day hadn’t ended when my schedules finally did.By the time the last meeting concluded and the final signature dried on paper, the sun had already begun its slow descent beyond the glass walls of my office. The city outside glowed with artificial light, cars moving like veins of fire beneath me. Normally, I would have stayed longer—worked later—pushed myself until exhaustion numbed everything else.But today, something tugged at me.Something restless.My assistant drove me straight to the Markston family estate.The gates opened slowly, iron bars parting as the car rolled in. The familiar gravel path crunched beneath the tires, the mansion looming ahead like an old sentinel of power and tradition. I had been here countless times, yet tonight it felt different—like I was stepping into a space that no longer fully belonged to me.The old patriarch was already outside.He sat in his garden, relaxed beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, dressed in light-colored leisure wear, one

Finally…It was the day of the competition.The morning air in Paris felt heavier than usual, as though the city itself understood the weight of what today carried. I arrived at the venue earlier than most, stepping out of the car with calm steps that masked the storm swirling inside my chest.This wasn’t just a competition.This was years of sleepless nights.Years of sacrifices.Years of proving—to myself more than anyone—that I could stand on my own.The event hall was massive, elegant, and intimidating all at once. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, casting soft light over polished floors that reflected ambition and ego equally. Designers from all over the world were present, dressed in sharp silhouettes and confident smiles, each carrying the same hunger in their eyes.Throughout the past few days, Lilian had made sure her presence was impossible to ignore.She moved through the hall like she owned it—ordering coffee for everyone, snapping her fingers, giving instructions to as