All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife II: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Marilyn’s tears had long dried, leaving behind only the dull sting of exhaustion. The words Vincent had thrown at her still echoed faintly, their sharp edges blunted now by numbness. Cruel words always hurt—but only for a moment. What lingered afterward was the silence, the hollow ache of disappointment.Her breakdown hadn’t come from his insults alone. It was from the bitter realization that she had trusted him too deeply—handing him every fragile piece of her soul. She had once told him everything: her childhood fears, her stepfather’s abuse, the shame and terror that had haunted her for years. She had cried in his arms, trembling, believing that he would be her protector, her anchor in the storm.At that time, Vincent had seemed like a hero.But now, all her vulnerability—every tear, every confession—had become ammunition for him. The very secrets she thought would bring them closer were now his weapon to wound her.She realized, with a dull ache, that some truths were never meant

The soft hum of fluorescent lights filled the silence of the Vanderbilt Group’s executive floor. Papers were stacked neatly across Alexander’s mahogany desk, their sharp corners reflecting the sterile glow of the lamp. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight.When Chiara quietly pushed open the office door, the faint scent of cold rain drifted in from the hallway. Her complexion was pale but carefully composed. She held a small insulated box in her hands and smiled faintly.“Alexander, I brought you dinner,” she said softly, her voice carrying the hesitant warmth of someone tiptoeing into dangerous territory.Alexander barely looked up. His expression was unreadable, his brows drawn together as he stared at the open files before him—financial reports, contracts, anything to drown out the thoughts clawing at the back of his mind.Chiara lingered by the door, uncertain. Since the day Alexander had said he might consider being with her, she had clung to those words as if they were a l

The music in the underground club was deafening—bass pounding against the ribcage, lights flashing like the pulse of a fever dream. Through the swirl of smoke and noise, Marken’s alter ego sat down beside Serena, his expression laced with mockery.“So,” he drawled, his voice almost drowned by the heavy beat, “after seeing it with your own eyes… do you still want to go back to Alexander?”The question cut through the chaos like a blade.Serena didn’t answer.Her eyes remained fixed in the direction Alexander had disappeared, the crowd closing in where he’d once stood. The space he left behind felt colder than the air around her. Her throat tightened, and when she blinked, tears slipped silently down her cheeks.He was gone.Truly gone.Her shoulders trembled. Of course Alexander resented her now—how could he not? In his eyes, she was tied to Cornelius’s death, the one who had thrown away the box that carried the venomous snake. And when Chiara had leaned over him to suck out the venom,

Dear Gentle Readers,Buon Natale !!! How are you? Have you celebrated the Christmas? This author certainly hopes you are having a wonderful day (and celebration if you do celebrate Christmas) wherever you are, hope you are with your loved ones. Yours, E.C. p.s. this author has accidentally copy pasted the chapter in the wrong order hence if you see a duplication from previous chapter, it is merely because it should have been in this chapter but was copy pasted wrongly while uploading it last time. Sincere apologies. This author regrets not being careful and hope this free chapter can make up for the inconvenience. Perdonami ...✨️✨️✨️In recent months, Rachel had been utterly consumed by her new relationship. Her world had shrunk down to just two people—her and Tom. She hadn’t seen much of Serena, not since that accident that had left everyone shaken. Aside from that one hospital visit, her days were spent at Tom’s place, curled against him, helping out with his cousin Zoe’s recover

The world came back to Serena in fragments—blurred lights, muffled sounds, the lingering sting of fear. When she was dragged back from the bar, she was thrown once again into the dimly lit room that smelled faintly of dust and antiseptic. Her limbs felt foreign, heavy, as though she were moving underwater. The drug coursing through her veins still dulled her strength, leaving her unable to resist.From the corner, she could hear Matheo’s voice—low, composed, and calculating—as he spoke on the phone.“Two hours,” he said. “Have the jet ready.”Two hours. That meant by the time the city fully woke, she would already be gone. Her pulse quickened with the realization.She was still dressed in the same outfit she had worn to the bar—a fitted black dress, creased now from the struggle. Matheo hadn’t even allowed her to change, likely so no one would recognize her on the way out. Every detail had been thought through; the man was precise, methodical… dangerous.“The thing on your stomach,” he