บททั้งหมดของ Reborn: Leave Me Alone, Billionaire Ex: บทที่ 181 - บทที่ 190

The storm that had battered the city earlier had given way to a suffocating hush. Alexander’s car slipped through deserted streets, its headlights dissecting the fog that had settled over the outskirts. He drove with purpose into the rundown industrial district, a part of the city left to decay since the factories closed years ago.Alexander slowed as he neared the address Robert had texted him—a derelict warehouse pressed up against the river, its corrugated metal walls wounded by rust and graffiti. Once, it had probably thrummed with the noise of industry; now, it stood silent, a relic haunted by memories of a busier era. Faded signs creaked overhead, swinging with each gust of wind, and the broken windows watched the world like blind, tired eyes.He maneuvered his car behind a row of thick concrete pillars and stepped out, adjusting his suit jacket. The scent of wet metal and engine oil hung heavy in the night. Just ahead, at a warped side door, two of Alexander’s security men waite

"I know you're pretending to sleep."Her eyes snapped open.Alexander’s grip tightened imperceptibly on the edge of Ophelia’s bed; shadows from rain-splattered streetlights shivered across his face, rendering his sharp features almost wolfish in the hospital’s dim light.His gaze lingered on her—intense, unblinking, simmering with something that bordered on possession. Ophelia tried to settle herself, pulling the blanket up to her collarbone, feeling exposed despite the layers. Her injury throbbed, a sharp reminder of her vulnerability.But it was the darkness in Alexander’s eyes—darker even than the storm outside—that made her most uneasy.Abruptly, his voice broke the silence. It was low and accusing, curiosity laced with suspicion. “Did you follow me tonight, Ophelia?”She flinched at his question, heart thumping. For a moment she could not answer—the shock painted plainly across her face. Was he toying with her? Could he truly know?Her lips parted, her words trembling. “What are y

The morning they were discharged, the air outside the hospital smelled of disinfectant and rain. A soft drizzle misted the pavement, glinting beneath the pale sun. Marcus walked a few steps ahead, a sling supporting his arm, his movements careful but steady.Ophelia followed, clutching a paper bag of medicine, her eyes shadowed with fatigue.“Are you sure you don’t want to stay another night?” she asked quietly.Marcus smiled faintly. “If I stay any longer, the nurses will start falling for me.”Ophelia’s lips twitched in a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You joke too easily for someone who nearly—”The unspoken word — died — hung between them like a ghost.When they reached the hospital gates, two cars were waiting. One for Marcus, sent by his family, and one for Ophelia. They looked at each other for a moment, the silence loaded.“Take care of yourself, okay?” Marcus said, adjusting his sling.“Marcus…” She hesitated. “If anything feels strange, if you notice anything

The soft light of dawn spilled through her window, tracing a faint gold line across the floorboards. The scent of sandalwood and rose still lingered in the air — her own creation from the night before. It had always soothed her, grounding her whenever her mind refused to rest.But this morning, peace felt foreign. Her thoughts drifted back — unwillingly, painfully — to the same night she had sworn to forget.Alexander’s birthday.The one that changed everything.It came to her in flashes — laughter, champagne, chandeliers, the glint of crystal glasses lifted in toast. She had spent days preparing, wanting everything perfect. She could still recall how her hands had trembled while pinning her hair, how her heart had ached with nervous anticipation. She had wanted him to look at her and see her, not the family name, not the expectations — just her.But that night, he hadn’t looked at her once.He had been surrounded by his friends, smiling faintly, indulging in their empty praises, drink

Alexander sat behind his desk, his pen poised over a stack of documents, eyes unfocused. His assistant, Robert, had seen him like this all week—working, signing, reading, but not here.Outside, the city glimmered beneath a veil of fog. Alexander’s reflection in the glass looked sharper, lonelier, than the man himself.“You’ve been staring at the same page for five minutes, Sir,” Robert said finally, stepping closer. His tone was cautious.Alexander blinked, glancing down. Indeed, the same line of numbers stared back at him, untouched. He exhaled, tossing the pen aside. “I’m fine.”Robert folded his arms. “You’re not. What's worrying you so much?”Alexander’s jaw tightened. “She refused to come.”“Refused to come to your birthday?”“She said she had better things to do.” His voice was soft, but every syllable carried weight—anger, regret, something dangerously close to longing.Robert hesitated before saying, “You can’t blame her, sir.”“I know,” Alexander cut him off, voice low, strain