My Billionaire's Ex Husband's Secret Heir のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 11 - チャプター 20

Yeah… sure.I stared at Noelle’s message a few seconds longer, then locked my phone before my thumb did something unprofessional like type, Sweetheart, he once called me a gold digger in our own living room, but yes, I’m sure his project oversight is very fair.No.Noelle didn’t know.And for now, that was still better than the alternative.I set my phone on the desk, slid the amendment documents a little farther away, then looked at Maya and Athena, who were still standing in my office like two guardian angels with mild criminal potential.“I’m not going to the process alignment meeting later,” I said.Athena raised an eyebrow. “Which later?”“All of them involving Moretti Holdings until we know exactly how the authority structure works.”Maya immediately pointed at herself and Athena. “We are?”“You are.”“Ah,” Maya said. “The sacrifice of beautiful women.”“I know. Very tragic.”Athena leaned her hip against the small table, her laptop still open in her hand. “I agree.”I looked at

I pointed my fork at the second piece of broccoli. “Finish it.”Eventually, he put it in his mouth. His face scrunched up. He chewed twice, drank some water, then pointed at himself. “Now I’m more dinosaur.”“A little.”The third piece of broccoli required another promise about Cars, one threat that the movie would be replaced with an ocean documentary, and one long look from me.Max finally swallowed it and threw both hands into the air. “Transformation complete.”“Congratulations.”“I’m a T-Rex.”“You’re a T-Rex taking a nap.”His smile disappeared immediately. “T-Rexes don’t nap.”“T-Rexes also don’t watch Cars.”Five minutes later, he walked toward the stairs dragging his little blanket behind him, still muttering that modern dinosaur life had too many rules.Gabriella followed behind him.“I want two books,” Max said.“One.”“Two small ones.”Their voices disappeared upstairs.I stayed at the table, staring at the phone still lying facedown beside my plate.Rafael’s sentence had

It’s 9:27, A.M....I stood in front of the mirror inside my office suite and decided that looking effortless required far too much effort.My lipstick was perfect.My hair fell in soft waves over my shoulders, deliberately effortless enough to make people forget there was a highly paid hairstylist behind the concept. I wore high-waisted black pants, an ivory silk blouse, and a blazer cut sharply enough to injure someone without leaving evidence.I looked like myself.The version who closed major contracts, made contractors apologize by email, and had never been thrown out of her own home by a man who chose his family’s lies over her.Good.That was the version I needed.I picked up the Malibu folder from my desk, then set it back down because the corner wasn’t aligned with my laptop.I straightened it.Stopped.Damn it.Nina was right. I did arrange things when I was angry.The intercom on my desk lit up. “Boss?”I pressed the button. “Yeah?”“Mr. Moretti has arrived.”I looked at the

I looked at the pen.Then Rafael.Then the pen again.A small black thing, placed neatly beside the signature line, as if the biggest problem in my life was only waiting for ink and a little pressure from my hand.I pushed it back toward him. “No.”Rafael didn’t take it. “You already said that.”“And you apparently need the repetition. I’m trying to be a supportive ex-wife.”His gaze stayed calmly on my face, without pushing. Extremely irritating for someone who had just threatened to give a family presentation about our failed marriage.I closed the document. “Our marriage has nothing to do with Aster House’s ability to complete the Malibu project.”“I didn’t say it did.”“This entire document says it does.”“No.” Rafael touched the corner of the folder with two fingers, then pulled it back to the center of the table. “The document says there was a previous relationship between two people who now have direct influence over decisions worth millions of dollars.”“A previous relationshi

Noelle was still standing in the doorway with two coffee carriers in one hand and a white pastry box in the other. Her gaze moved from my face to Rafael’s, then to the space between us, which was probably too small for two people who had just finished a glazing review.Her smile widened. “Oh my God.” She laughed as she walked in. “You already have corporate telepathy.”“Side effect of reading too many spreadsheets,” I said.“Drawings,” Rafael corrected.I turned toward him. “See? Extremely annoying.”Noelle pushed the door shut with her heel. “I leave for less than an hour and you’ve already completed the enemies-to-efficient-coworkers phase without me.”“There is no phase,” I said.Rafael only stood there with the folder containing the entire history of our marriage slightly open in his hand, looking like a man holding a budget report instead of proof that his girlfriend had just walked into a room occupied by two professional liars.Noelle’s gaze dropped to the table.I moved first.