All Chapters of We Divorced Now He Wants Me Back (Billionaire Contract Wife): Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

220 Chapters

The Owner Of The Penthouse

Maybe an hour or a few after our breakfast.That was how loosely time moved that morning. Not in minutes or seconds, but in feelings. In pauses. In small moments that stretched longer than they should have, like the quiet after laughter, or the silence before a truth you are not ready to hear.“Where are you heading to?” I asked my assistant, watching her move around the kitchen with a basket of freshly baked cookies balanced on her arm.The smell of butter and sugar still lingered in the air. Warm. Comforting. We had baked them together earlier, sleeves rolled up, flour on our fingers, laughing like two women with nothing heavy weighing on their hearts. I kept some aside carefully for my boys, arranging them neatly, because somehow, even the smallest things for them mattered too much to me.Mary Jane did not answer immediately. She just smiled, that quiet, knowing smile she always wore when she had already planned something and was waiting for the right moment to reveal it.Earlier t

Best Christmas Gift

Alice.Just her name.Nothing else followed it, yet it carried more weight than anything I could have said. Saying it out loud again felt like pressing on an old bruise I had pretended no longer existed. The sound of it left my chest tight, my throat rough, my breath uneven. I watched her react the way I knew she would, even if she tried to hide it. Her eyes softened for half a second before she swallowed, before she steadied herself.“Vincent.”She whispered my name like it was fragile. Like it might shatter if she said it any louder. Hearing it from her again hurt in a way I hadn’t prepared for. It wrapped around my ribs and squeezed until everything else faded into the background. The hallway, the cold, the city outside my penthouse, none of it mattered anymore.It was just us.Again.And God help me, I had known this moment would come. I had waited for it even when I told myself I wasn’t.I noticed the baske

You're Nothing

Whenever I closed my eyes to the kiss, it stopped being a kiss. It turned into something else. Blood. It flooded my vision without warning, thick and red and too bright against white sheets. The metallic smell filled my nose, sharp enough to make my stomach twist. Then the cry came—thin, broken, desperate. A baby’s cry that cut straight through my chest and lodged itself there, screaming even when the sound faded. Voices followed. Too many voices. Doctors speaking in low tones. Nurses whispering. Accusations layered over accusations until I couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore. And then silence. The kind of silence that follows devastation. The kind that never really leaves you. And our marriage—ending not in flames or shouting, but in coldness. Papers slid across a table. Signatures pressed down like final nails in a coffin. Mine hollow. Years ago. But st

Drugged

“Vincent, you bastard,” I said.The words came out broken, barely louder than a whisper, but they carried everything I couldn’t say out loud. And the cold seeped through my thin nightgown. I stayed there for a second, my chest rising and falling too fast, my head buzzing, my thoughts crashing into each other like they didn’t know where to go.I didn’t allow myself to stay there long.I couldn’t.If I stayed on the floor, I would break. And I didn’t have the luxury of breaking.I pushed myself up, my legs trembling, my fingers numb. My phone was still in my hand. I stared at it like it might burn me. Then I turned and walked straight into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me a little harder than necessary, as if that could shut Vincent out of my life again.I dialed Adrian.My hands were shaking so badly I almost pressed the wrong name.He answered quickly. Too quickly.“Alice?” he said.I didn’t greet him. I didn’t ease into it. There was no point pretending.“He knows,” I said.T

Drugged

Thirty minutes ago.That was when I arrived at the gala.I didn’t come through the main entrance. I never did. The flash of cameras, the forced smiles, the noise. I hated all of it. The directors were already waiting for me at the private entrance, straightening their jackets the moment they saw me, their expressions careful, respectful, alert.“Mr. Markson,” one of them greeted.I gave a short nod and followed them without a word.They led me upstairs, straight to the VIP area. The moment I stepped inside, the sound from below softened, turning into a distant murmur. The balcony overlooked the entire hall, crystal lights reflecting off polished floors, champagne glasses raised everywhere. From up here, everything looked clean. Controlled. Perfect.A lie.I sat down, my posture relaxed but my mind alert. Men gathered around me almost immediately. Businessmen, directors, investors. People who talked too much when they felt important. Their voices blended together as they spoke about pr

Eviction

I was dizzy. My limbs felt heavy, my head spinning like the world refused to stay still. My body burned in a way that didn’t feel natural, didn’t feel right. I tried to push him off, but my strength betrayed me. Panic clawed up my throat as his weight pinned me down. Then the door burst open. “Get out of here! Don’t you see what I’m doing?” Mr. Wang shouted angrily, completely unaware of who had just entered. The next second, his voice changed. I felt it before I saw it—the sudden shift in the air, the violence of movement. Vincent grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head against the wall with a sickening thud. “Ahhhh!” Mr. Wang screamed, clutching his bald head as blood began to trickle down his fingers. My heart pounded violently in my chest. “Who the hell are you?” he shouted, rage and fear mixed in his voice. Then he froze. His face drained of color when he finally looked up. “M-Mr. Markston…” he stuttered. “I didn’t know it was you.” I could barely focus, but I

They're Gone Vincent

That afternoon, the air felt heavier than usual. It wasn’t just Paris’ unpredictable weather or the low-hanging clouds threatening rain. It was the weight pressing on my chest—the kind that came when you knew people were waiting for you to fall. The car slowed as we arrived at the design competition site. Through the tinted window, I could already see it. Chaos. Paparazzi crowded the entrance, cameras raised, flashes bursting relentlessly. Reporters pushed forward, microphones clashing as security struggled to hold them back. Even before I stepped out, I could hear my name echoing through the noise. “Ms. Alice—!” “Alice, is it true?” “Did you plagiarize another designer’s work?” “Who are you really backed by?” I exhaled slowly. Mary Jane glanced at me from the passenger seat, worry written all over her face. “Ms. Alice…” I straightened my spine. “It’s fine,” I said calmly, even though my heart was pounding. “Let’s go.” The door opened. The moment my heels touched the gr

The Line She Crossed

The same day. Another location. I was seated when it happened. Not calmly—no, nothing about that moment was calm—but outwardly composed, my body resting against the leather chair, one hand on the desk, my mind already clouded with unease I couldn’t name. Then the door burst open. “Boss—boss!” My assistant rushed in, breathless, his face pale, eyes wide with panic. That alone was enough to make my spine straighten “What is it?” I asked coldly. “I think—no, I’m certain—Miss Alice is trying to take the kids away.” The world stopped. For one split second, everything froze. Sound. Air. Thought. Then rage exploded. “What?” I roared, standing up so fast the chair scraped violently against the floor. Take the kids away? My hands clenched into fists. I already knew Alice wouldn’t let me see the boys. I had accepted that much. I had prepared myself for coldness, for distance, for hatred even. But this? Taking them away? That crossed a line. My chest rose sharply as fury burne

Don't Make Me Regret Knowing You

The meeting dragged on longer than it should have.Too long.By the time I stepped into the boardroom, I already knew they were upset. I could feel it in the air—the tension, the impatience, the way conversations stopped the moment I entered. Directors sat stiffly around the long glass table, fingers tapping, brows furrowed, eyes sharp with calculation rather than trust.This wasn’t about creativity anymore.This was about money.Stocks.Fear.“We need to address the situation immediately,” one of the directors said before I had even taken my seat. “The plagiarism issue is spreading faster than expected.”Another nodded. “Investors are uneasy. They don’t understand what’s happening, and uncertainty is dangerous.”I placed my tablet on the table and slowly sat down.I was tired.Not the kind of tired that sleep fixes, but the kind that settles deep in your bones—the exhaustion of constantly defending yourself when you know the truth but aren’t allowed to reveal it yet.“I’ve already ex

Love,One Family

If anyone had told me this morning that I would end the day dancing to a children’s song in my penthouse—with a ridiculous cap slipping over my eyes while my assistants laughed—I would have had them escorted out for psychological evaluation. And yet. Here I was. I stood in the middle of my living room, sleeves rolled up, jacket discarded somewhere I couldn’t remember, the polished marble floor now a playground. Music blared from a tablet one of the staff had hastily connected—some absurdly cheerful children’s song with exaggerated lyrics and an infectious rhythm. “Again!” Dillion shouted, bouncing on the couch. “No, no—like this!” Darling corrected, hopping down and demonstrating exaggerated movements, arms flailing with dramatic seriousness. I stared at them. Two tiny humans. My humans. “Dad,” Darlene said, placing her hands on her hips, face scrunched up in deep concentration. “You have to wash and learn . That’s how the song goes.” I raised a brow. “Wash and learn.” “Ye

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