All Chapters of Ex Husband, Prepare To Burn : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Elara’s POV The car slowed in front of the New York SM Group’s main entrance, its black exterior reflecting the morning sun like polished obsidian. Before the engine even settled, my chauffeur hurried around and opened the door. “Thank you,” I said with a soft smile. He bowed, and I stepped out, heels clicking against the concrete. Today, I wasn’t just entering a building. I was entering my new era. My new kingdom. I smoothed my cream satin blouse, its fabric hugging my frame perfectly, tucked into a tailored high-waist charcoal skirt. A long camel trench coat rested lightly on my shoulders—unbuttoned, flowing, intentionally dramatic. My legs crossed elegantly in black Louboutin mirror heels, each step echoing confidence. With high class aura. My nails—midnight red—glowed under the morning light, matching my lipstick, a color Ian once banned before we even got to say our marriage vows. He didn’t want other men looking at me with a lustful desire, so I always had to dress

Ian’s POV The whiskey burned down my throat — but not nearly enough I slammed the empty glass onto the counter. The sound was sharp, final.The bartender didn’t hesitate. He reached for the bottle immediately. Smart man.“Rough night, sir?” he asked carefully, already pouring.I lifted my eyes to him.One look. Not long. Not hard. Just enough.He froze, swallowed, and pushed the glass toward me without another word.Good.“Keep it coming,” I said, voice cold, distant. “Don’t stop until I say so.” I drank again, eyes drifting towards the stage. Camila.Cameras loved her tonight — flashing endlessly, all focused on her. She stood on stage like a fallen angel resurrected by sympathy — tears glistening, voice trembling,the perfect victim.Perfect posture. Perfect timing.She knew exactly when to take break, when to pause, when to let the silence do the work.For five years,she had played her role well and I had watched her manage chaos like this—smooth it over, redirect the narrative, p

Noah’s POV — Sydney, 7:45 PM "God-dammit!". The word slipped out before I could stop it as my character collapsed on the screen again. Jace’s victory animation flashed across my monitor, taunting me. I slammed both palms on my desk — not hard enough to break it, but hard enough to feel something. That was my fifth loss in a row. He was never going to let me hear the end of it tomorrow at school. I clenched my jaw, leaning closer to the screen, determined to win the next round — when my bedroom door creaked open behind me. “Not now, Nanny Mona,” I muttered, fingers tight on the gamepad. “I already took my vitamins. I told you fine.” A pause. Then a different voice. “Actually…it’s not Nanny Mona,” Emily said softly. “It’s Claire and me.” I sighed through my nose. Of course. They only came in when they wanted something. Without turning around, I kept my eyes glued to the screen. “What do you both want? You know the rules — you don’t come into my room unless it’s important.”

Camila’s POV The boardroom was so quiet I could practically hear the soft hum of the AC and the faint ticking of the wall clock. The city skyline stretched across the glass windows behind us, but no one dared admire it. Not when our sales report glowed on the massive presentation screen like a wound that refused to heal. Charts and sales graphs frozen mid-slide – silent proof of everything we had lost these past days. I crossed one leg over the other, fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass table. Everyone avoided my gaze. Good. They should. “Walk me through the numbers again,” I said flatly. Laura stood at the head of the room, her posture stiff, the remote trembling slightly between her fingers like a soldier about to deliver a death sentence. “Our fourth-quarter sales dropped significantly,” she said, clearing her throat. “The market took a heavy hit – especially in our luxury line.A thirty-two percent decline after the scandal footage circulated online.” A rippl

ELARA’S POV“I believe it’s not a crime to be a substitute if someone refuses a dare.”Camilla’s voice slid across the table before her perfume did—thick, expensive, suffocating. She moved toward us with deliberate grace, each click of her heels striking the marble like a countdown. The chandelier light clung to her black dress, the belt cinched perfectly at her waist, her red lipstick sharp enough to cut glass. I hated that I noticed how stunning she looked. I hated even more that she knew it.She stopped beside Ian and lowered herself into the empty chair as if she had always belonged there.“Oh my God… you’re alive,” she breathed, pressing a hand dramatically against her chest as she looked at me. “You have no idea what the news of your death did to me. I mourned you for months.”Nothing irritates me more than a liar wearing red lipstick and calling it grief.“Death?” Quinn’s voice cut in, confused. “Wait… you two know each other?”Camilla’s eyes locked with mine. There it was—the