Todos os capítulos de She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

(Chase)I read the email three times.It’s two short, robotic paragraphs telling me she’s never sleeping at my apartment again and that I’ll be getting the custody petition today.No explanation. No emotion.My chest tightens. It doesn't make any sense.When she left two nights ago, she was angry because I wouldn't spell out exactly what I wanted from her.We fought, but we were negotiating.We were in a stalemate, not a war.Why the hell is she going nuclear now?Before I can even pick up my phone to demand an explanation, my office door opens.It’s not my assistant. It’s a guy in a cheap suit carrying a thick manila envelope."Chase Warren?" he asks. "You've been served."He drops the envelope on my desk and walks out.I stare at the thick stack of papers.She actually did it.She filed.The confusion burns away, replaced by a hot, immediate surge of fury.I grab my phone, ready to tear into her, but my desk line rings first.I snatch it up. "What?""Mr. Warren," a slick voice says.

(Nathanial)"I haven’t been able to find any information on Nat Bailey."Padilla’s voice crackles over my car’s Bluetooth, competing with the sound of the wind rushing past the windows."You said everyone leaves a digital footprint," I say, my grip tightening on the steering wheel."Social media, tax records, a lease agreement. You’re telling me a woman in her late twenties just doesn't exist online?""I’m telling you the name is a dead end," Padilla replies, sounding tired."I’ve run every Nat, Natasha, and Natalie Bailey in the country that matches your timeline. None of them have a history that aligns with your sister. If she’s out there, she isn't using that name.""Keep digging," I say, and end the call.Frustration burns in the back of my throat, thick and sour.I take the next off-ramp and start driving in a new direction.My mother can make all of this a lot easier if she’d just give me the information I need.The damp, salty air hits me the second I step out of the car.I mar

(Elias)I don’t like the country club.The scotch is watered down, the chairs are too soft, and the patio is always full of men who inherited their money and think it makes them important.I built my empire with my own two hands.I only keep the membership because the staff knows better than to attempt small talk.I take a sip of my drink and lean both hands on the silver head of my cane.Right on time, my grandson walks onto the terrace.Chase looks exactly the way a man should look when his life is falling apart.Exhausted, stiff, and utterly miserable. Good.Maybe it will finally teach him something.He pulls out the iron chair across from me and sits down.He doesn't order a drink, waving the waiter off when he comes over."You summoned me," Chase says.“I did," I tell him."I wanted to see what a spectacular idiot looks like in the midday sun. The lighting in my dining room is too forgiving."His jaw tightens.That little muscle jumps right below his ear.It's the exact same tell

(James)I keep my office door open when I review charts.It prevents me from getting lost in my own head.St. Jude’s is a loud, chaotic hospital, and the background noise keeps me grounded in the present.The present is much safer than the past.A sharp rap on the doorframe breaks my concentration.I look up from my monitor to find Natasha standing in the doorway.She looks exactly like Will did when he was stressed.Chin tilted up, shoulders rigid, eyes burning with a defensive, territorial anger.Every time I look at her, I see the brother I abandoned.She hates me for that, and she’s entirely right to do so.I assume she’s here to demand the reckoning I’ve been evading for so long."Come in," I say, sliding the file I was working on to the side.Natasha walks in and drops her leather tote bag onto the chair opposite my desk.She doesn't sit down.She paces a tight, four-foot line across the carpet."I need a letter," she says."I need a comprehensive, bulletproof medical clearance

(Natasha)My mouth still tastes like him.I press the heel of my hand against my lip, trying to wipe away the physical memory of Chase’s office, but the friction just makes it sting.I’m sitting at the long conference table in the Stein M&A boardroom, but my brain is stalling out.The spreadsheet on my laptop is a blur.End-stage organ failure.Sonia in his bed.I haven't slept properly in days, and the adrenaline crash is making my hands shake.I shove them under the table and grip my thighs.The meeting officially ended five minutes ago.The junior analysts are packing up their briefcases, eager to escape the tense atmosphere.I should pack up too, but I lack the energy to close my screen.A shadow falls over my keyboard.I look up to find Jeffrey Bauer standing directly behind my chair.He doesn't keep a polite professional distance.He crowds me.His expensive cologne wouldn’t be unpleasant in reasonable doses, but it smells like he showers in it.The smell completely overrides ev