All Chapters of The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is a Brilliant Lawyer: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

*Bella’s POV *I rested my chin against my palm, staring blankly at the bridal gowns in the magazine on my lap. Sequins and satin blurred into one glittering haze, and a sharp twist of unease coiled in my stomach. I winced, pressing a hand over it, trying to convince myself it was nothing.“You’re doing that thing again.”I lifted my head. Alex stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest, dark brows drawn together. Even in casual clothes, even with that slight crease in his forehead, he commanded the room. His presence made the air heavier somehow, more urgent.“What thing?” I asked, forcing a weak laugh.“Pressing your stomach and pretending you’re fine when you’re clearly not.” He stepped closer, filling the space between us until it felt like the air itself had contracted. He crouched beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and I caught the faint scent of his cologne—warm, woody, and familiar. “Talk to me, Bella.”“It’s nothing,” I murmured, voice thinner tha

*Bella’s POV *I didn’t remember the drive. I didn’t plan to go to his house either, but my instinct told me he would be at home. Traffic lights bleeding into each other, the dull throb behind my eyes, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles lost color. Sophie’s voice still echoed somewhere behind me, breaking apart mid-sentence as I left the house. “Bella, please—just breathe first—” But breath was the one thing I couldn’t hold steady. Not when everything inside me had already fractured. The gates opened without resistance. That was the first betrayal. As if nothing had changed. As if I still belonged here. As if my name still carried weight in this place. The tires crunched over gravel, slow and deliberate, like the estate itself was watching me decide whether to turn back. But I didn’t. My chest was already too tight for retreat. The grand doors stood ahead, half-shadowed by afternoon light spilling across the columns. I stepped out of the car and the air

*Bella’s POV *The city smelled like rain and exhaust and something faintly sweet—roasted chestnuts, I think, though I couldn’t be sure. Everything felt unfamiliar in a way that pressed against my skin. The noise. The air. Even the light seemed sharper, like it didn’t soften itself for anyone.My suitcase wheels dragged unevenly over the cracked pavement as I crossed the street, my fingers tightening around the handle while a gust of wind slipped beneath my coat. London sat somewhere behind me now, across an ocean and a decision I couldn’t undo, yet it lingered in the way my chest refused to settle. In the way my thoughts kept circling back to him, as if distance had nothing to do with letting go.New York didn’t pause for grief. It moved with purpose, loud and relentless, folding me into its rhythm without asking who I used to be. I walked through it like someone learning how to exist again, step by careful step, hoping my body would eventually catch up with the choice my mind had a

*Bella’s POV* The clinic smelled like antiseptic layered over something floral that tried too hard to soften it, and the combination sat wrong in my throat. I kept swallowing like that would push it down, like it would settle somewhere manageable if I tried hard enough. It didn’t. It just lingered, sharp and sweet and faintly suffocating. My hands refused to stay still. I pressed them together in my lap, laced my fingers, then, unlaced them again when the pressure became too much. The cuff of my sleeve twisted under my grip, threads pulling loose one by one. I watched it happen without stopping myself, as if focusing on that small destruction, I would not have allowed myself to think about anything else. Across the room, a clock ticked with a precision that felt personal. Each second landed cleanly, deliberately, cutting through the low murmur of voices beyond the door. I shifted in the chair. My knee bounced once, then again, until I forced my foot flat against the floor. A

*Alex’s POV* I had not read a single line of the document in front of me. The cursor blinked at the end of a sentence I could not remember typing, the numbers on the screen blurring into something meaningless no matter how many times I tried to force my focus back onto them. My pen rested between my fingers, unmoving, the weight of it unfamiliar, as it belonged to someone else. Across the glass wall, the city moved with its usual precision. Meetings happened. People walked with purpose. Phones rang and were answered. Everything continued exactly as it should. Everything except me. I leaned back in my chair, dragging a hand down my face, pressing my thumb and forefinger into my eyes until light fractured behind them. For a moment, I stayed like that, holding the pressure, as if I could steady something that had been off balance for days now. Then I reached for my phone again. Her name sat there, I pressed call. The line rang, each tone stretching longer than the last, pul