Semua Bab My Ex Husband's Biggest Regret : Bab 191 - Bab 200

"How exactly did we become friends?"Felix asked the question without looking up from his drink. We were sitting in a corner booth of a bar that was too quiet for a Friday night, but that was exactly why we chose it. It had been three months since that first disastrous pasta dinner where we all tried to pretend things were normal. Since then, Felix and I have met up twice on our own. No, Sera. No, Roman. Just two men who had spent too many years cleaning up other people's messes, finally taking a breath of our own."It’s a low bar for entry," I said, leaning back against the worn leather. "We both spent a long time watching two people not quite get it right. That kind of shared trauma creates a bond, I guess."Felix finally looked at me, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He looked different than he had a year ago. The permanent crease between his eyebrows had smoothed out. The frantic way he used to check his phone every thirty seconds had disappeared. He look

"Is the ink dry on the Milan foundation papers yet?"I didn’t look up as Ada walked into my office. I already knew the answer. Ada was never late, and she never brought me half-finished business. She set the heavy stack of legal documents on the center of my desk with a soft, decisive thud. These were the final papers, the culmination of months of legal maneuvering and high-stakes negotiation. The Milan foundation was finally ours, fully integrated, fully funded, and ready to launch. This wasn't just another acquisition; it was the final brick in the new empire we had built from the rubble of our old lives."Everything is ready for your signature," Ada said, her voice as professional and steady as it had been since the day she started. "The board has approved the structure. The legal team in Italy has given the green light. All that’s left is you."I leaned back in my chair for a second, looking at the top page. It felt heavier than it looked. My office was quiet, the midday sun

"You're home early."The words weren't mine. They came from the kitchen, deep and familiar, but I didn't answer right away. I was frozen in the entryway of our apartment, my keys still heavy in my hand. My gaze was locked on the dining table. There, sitting in a crystal vase I’d bought myself three months ago, was an arrangement of flowers.They weren't the flowers a man usually buys when he’s trying to be charming. There were no generic red roses, no supermarket lilies, and no flashy orchids designed to scream for attention. They were muted, textured, and wild. They were the specific, obscure stems I’d spent the last year sourcing from a tiny boutique on the edge of the city. They were the ones I bought for myself every Sunday morning as a ritual of my own independence.I didn't move. I just looked at them. The scent hit me, earthy and sharp, exactly the way I liked it. For a long time, my independence was a fortress I’d built to keep the world out, especially Roman. Buying my own

"Are you ever going to empty those boxes, or are they just part of the decor now?"I didn't answer the voice in my head, Sera’s voice, which had become the permanent soundtrack to my life. I stood in the storage room of the old penthouse, surrounded by the ghosts of a man I barely recognized anymore. The air was thick with the scent of dust and stale air. I’d been avoiding this room for months. Every other part of my transition into our new life was complete, but these last few boxes felt like a weight I wasn't ready to shift.I reached for the nearest crate, the cardboard rough under my palms. This was the final stretch. I hauled it into the center of the room, the sound of the drag echoing against the bare walls. I popped the tape. Inside were documents, old contracts from the Ashford merger, bank statements from years that felt like decades ago. Paperwork that used to be the only thing I lived for.I dug deeper, past the cold, hard facts of my business empire. At the very bottom,

"The offer is non-negotiable."I leaned back in the leather chair of the Montague Industries boardroom, my gaze fixed on the man across from me. He was older, seasoned, and used to intimidating people with his silence. I wasn't a person. I was a Montague, and I had spent the last few years building a version of myself that didn't flinch. I let the silence stretch, the weight of the negotiation pressing into the room until he finally blinked. He signed. I stood up, smoothed my skirt, and walked out.Across the city, at Ashford Global, Roman was likely doing the same. It was a Tuesday, ordinary, busy, and full of the high-stakes chess we both played for a living.My phone buzzed in my bag. I pulled it out as I reached my office.*Roman: Don’t forget the good olive oil. I’m attempting the pasta again.**Sera: I’ll bring it. And a backup plan for dinner.**Roman: Have a little faith, Sera.**Sera: I have exactly as much faith as your last attempt earned. See you at six.*I put the phone