Semua Bab Divorcing the Ruthless Billionaire: Bab 1 - Bab 7

POV RACHELLE The sunlight in the Veronesi tower was different from the sunlight at the Santoro estate. In Nikolai’s mansion, the light felt filtered, gray, as if the heavy velvet curtains were mourning a joy that never existed. But here, on the 42nd floor of the glass-and-steel monolith my father built, the sun was a blade. It reflected off the white marble floors and the chrome mannequins, blindingly bright. I stood in the center of the atelier, a cup of black espresso in one hand and a charcoal pencil in the other. I hadn't slept. Not a wink. But I didn’t feel tired. I felt electric. "Rachelle, the swatches from the Como mill are here," my assistant, Sofia, whispered. She was twenty-four, ambitious, and currently looking at me like I was a ghost that had suddenly decided to start haunting the living. I didn't blame her. For three years, I had been the silent director who sent notes via email, the woman who stayed in the background to avoid "embarrassing" my husband with my ambi

POV RACHELLEThe scent of iron and ozone filled the pristine white atelier. Ambrose Peregrini, the man I had spent years despising from a distance, was leaning against my cutting table, his designer shirt ruined by a blossoming crimson stain."Ambrose?" I stayed behind the safety of my drafting desk, my hand hovering over the silent alarm button. "What is this? If this is another one of Micah’s games—""It’s not a game, Rachelle," he wheezed, sliding down to the floor. "Nikolai… he saw us. He didn’t just see the photos. He followed us to the warehouse. He heard everything."My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. "He heard what?""That the baby isn't his. That the fire… the one four years ago…" Ambrose coughed, a grimace of pain twisting his handsome, shallow face. "He found the original ledger. The one Micah told him was destroyed. She’s been blackmailing me for years, Rachelle. She told me if I didn't play along, if I didn't help her stage that 'rescue' in the smoke,

POV RACHELLEThe air in the Swiss Alps didn’t just feel cold; it felt thin, like it was stripping away the last of the lies I had lived for three years. I sat across from my uncle Lorenzo in the private cabin of the mountain train, my eyes fixed on the snow-capped peaks of St. Moritz."She doesn't know you're coming," Lorenzo said, his voice barely audible over the rhythmic hum of the tracks. "She thinks the pact is still in place. She thinks you are still trapped in that house, playing the part of Nikolai Santoro’s doll."I looked down at my hands. I wasn't wearing my wedding ring anymore. Instead, I wore a charcoal wool coat from my own winter collection—sharp lines, reinforced shoulders. I looked like a woman who owned the world. But inside, I felt like the nineteen-year-old girl who had stood by an empty grave, screaming into the rain because her mother was gone."Why did my father do it, Lorenzo? He loved her. I remember the way he used to look at her.""Matteo loved her, yes. Bu