All Chapters of We Divorced Now He Wants Me Back (Billionaire Contract Wife): Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Morning came quietly.Too quietly.I woke up slowly, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above me, my mind taking a few seconds longer than usual to remember where I was. The penthouse was still, wrapped in that strange early-morning hush that only places too big for their own good seemed to have. No traffic noise. No neighbors. Just soft light filtering through the tall windows and the faint hum of distant appliances.For a moment, I lay there, listening.Then I heard it.Soft footsteps.Small voices.My boys.I pushed myself up immediately.The bed was too large, too smooth, too impersonal. Everything here reminded me that I was standing on ground that had never been meant for me. Vincent’s space. Vincent’s world. A place I had once tried to belong to—and failed.I washed up quickly, tied my hair back, and stepped out of the room. The hallway smelled faintly of fresh bread and something warm—something comforting.Cooking.I followed the scent to the kitchen.The staff had already prep

The chaos hit him like a silent explosion.He didn’t even need to look at the tablet in Alice’s hands to know the disaster unfolding outside these walls. The tension in the kitchen, the tightness in Alice’s jaw, the slight tremor in her fingers as she gripped the device—he felt it all without a word being spoken.Vincent Markston, CEO, the man everyone feared and obeyed, the man who could command armies of employees, financiers, and legal experts with a single word, now sat frozen in the middle of the breakfast room, watching a storm he hadn’t anticipated.A storm with Alice at the center of it.He had seen attacks before. On businesses, on stocks, on public figures. But this? This was personal. This was reckless, precise, and malicious. Someone had aimed for Alice, and they had done it quickly—too quickly for any ordinary reaction.He noticed every detail. The headlines, the faces, the tone, the videos—scouts, competitors, the way people shouted her name only to condemn her. Plagiari

By the time I left the boardroom that noon, my legs felt heavier than they should have.Not weak—just tired in a way that went deeper than muscle. The kind of exhaustion that settled into the bones after holding yourself together for too long. I walked down the hallway slowly, heels clicking against the marble floor, every sound echoing louder than necessary. People passed me, some nodding politely, some offering small smiles that carried relief more than warmth.Relief that the storm had quieted.I didn’t return any of it with enthusiasm. I simply nodded back, professional, composed, distant.Inside, my mind wouldn’t stop turning.Someone did this. Lillian That thought followed me like a shadow as I stepped into the elevator. The doors slid shut, cutting me off from the rest of the floor, and for the first time since morning, I was alone. Truly alone.The silence pressed in.I leaned back against the mirrored wall, my reflection staring back at me—eyes tired, lips pressed together,

I raised my hand and pointed directly at the dress Lilian had just claimed herself.I disowned that dress.The words didn’t echo, but the reaction did.The whole crowd erupted in whispers, muttering, asking if I was crazy or what. The sound rose like a swarm—confused, sharp, cruel. I could hear my name being dragged through mouths that didn’t even know me. I could feel judgment pressing down on my shoulders like invisible hands.Lilian was already frozen there shivering.For the first time since I walked into that hall, she didn’t look confident. Her smile cracked, just slightly, but enough. Her fingers clenched around the fabric near her waist, knuckles whitening, breath uneven. She tried to compose herself, and she stared at me.Her eyes weren’t triumphant anymore.They were afraid.She asked me what was I saying, like if I was insane or what." Are you sick upstairs, Ms Alice?" She asked with a forced smile.Her voice sounded louder than it should have, sharp and brittle, like glas

In the hospital, her manager was talking about the news, how some neitizens were insulting her, mocking her, saying that she actually fainted at the right time.“Do you know what they’re saying now?” my manager asked, pacing in front of the hospital bed, tablet clutched in his hands like it was burning him.I stared at the ceiling.“They’re calling it… strategic fainting,” he continued cautiously. “They’re saying you collapsed exactly when things turned against you.”I clenched my jaw.“Some are mocking you,” he added, swallowing. “They’re saying—”“Stop,” I snapped.He didn’t.“They’re saying you played the victim card perfectly. That you’re manipulative. That it was all planned.”The words dug under my skin, clawing, scratching.“They’re even making memes,” he said softly. “Videos. Commentaries. Saying you fainted at the right time.”I was so angry that she poured the cup of tea I was holding on my manager's face, telling him to get lost.The tea splashed across his cheek, dripping