All Chapters of We Divorced Now He Wants Me Back (Billionaire Contract Wife): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

After I left Grandpa’s side, I strolled down the long, polished corridor of the mansion. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor, but my thoughts were louder than any sound. Grandpa had told me weeks ago about a new garden being built on the east wing. He had sounded so proud, like a child showing off his treasure. I thought maybe walking there would clear my mind.But then—I stopped dead in my tracks.Around the corner, faint voices carried through the stillness. At first, I wanted to ignore it, until one particular name and one particular tone froze me in place.“I said publicly humiliate her,not just some simple dismissal,” Lilian’s voice hissed. Her tone was laced with venom, sharp and cutting.My breath caught. Lilian.I leaned closer to the wall, pressing myself silently against it, straining to hear.The other voice was quieter, hushed, like whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t want to be overheard.“Do you think I didn’t try that? The news was out earlier

lThe scent of burnt tobacco lingered in the air, mixing with the faint hum of the air conditioner. I’d lost count of how many minutes I’d been staring at the same document without reading a single line. My pen rested uselessly on the paper, the ink smudged from my fingers.No matter how much I tried to focus, the image of Alice kept creeping back into my mind.Her voice. Her defiant stare. The way she’d looked at me this morning before walking away—cold, indifferent, and proud.That wasn’t the Alice I used to know. The woman who once blushed under my gaze now looked at me as though I were a stranger. Maybe I never really knew her at all.I sighed deeply and pressed my fingertips to my temple. “Damn it.”The cigarette smoke curled upward as I stubbed it out in the ashtray. The silence in my office only made her voice louder in my head.“Don’t act so pathetic. It’s disgusting.”Her words had struck harder than I expected. They clung to me long after she’d left.How could three secon

By the time the cab stopped in front of the Markston family estate, dusk had settled like a slow sigh across the city. The mansion loomed quietly, bathed in the amber hue of the garden lamps, its gates opening at the mere mention of my name. My chest felt heavy — too heavy for the simple act of returning home.I stepped out slowly, clutching my bag, the truth Adrian revealed still echoing in my mind.KNT wasn’t behind JB’s collapse.Vincent wasn’t the one who hurt us. I had blamed him unfairly, spat cruel words without proof, let my anger blind me to reason.Tonight, I was going to make it right.But as I climbed the marble stairs and reached the main entrance, something in the air felt wrong — tense, cold, suffocating. The maids’ eyes darted toward me before quickly bowing their heads and retreating, as if afraid to be caught in the storm that lingered inside the mansion.“Ma’am,” one of them whispered, nervously wringing her hands, “the Master is in his study.”I nodded faintly and

Immediately after I was done preparing breakfast, I hurriedly took my bath. The warm water did little to wash away the heaviness in my chest. I dressed carefully, choosing something simple yet elegant — a cream blouse tucked into a pencil skirt — then tied my hair into a neat ponytail. A light touch of makeup followed, just enough to make me look awake and composed, even if I felt anything but that inside.Before leaving the guest room, I reached for my vitamins and, like every morning, took them quietly, hiding the bottle behind the wardrobe shelf again. No one knew. No one could know — not yet.As I walked out of the Markson estate, the air was fresh but my heart wasn’t. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of KNT Designs. My hands rested on my lap as I looked outside the window. I couldn’t stop replaying Vincent’s cold eyes from earlier, the way he brushed past me like I was invisible. It still stung.The cab stopped in front of the magnificent glass building. I stepped o

As I stood up to leave, something on Vincent’s desk caught my attention.A document — no, my designs.Curiosity got the better of me. I walked closer, careful not to disturb anything else on his neatly arranged desk. My heart gave a little squeeze as I picked up the file.They were my past designs — the ones I had worked tirelessly on, the ones I poured my sleepless nights into. They were detailed, full of passion and emotion, something that carried a part of me in every sketch line and color stroke.I blinked. So, that was what they had been discussing earlier?Quietly, I carried the file back to the sofa and sat down, spreading the pages on my lap. My eyes darted between my old work and the newer designs stacked beside them — sleek, modern, but empty.“Was he planning to replace my designs with these?”The thought stung. I felt a weight press down on my chest. I could almost hear the faint echo of our argument from the night before, his words still sharp and cold.Maybe this was his