บททั้งหมดของ Betrayed by My Ex, Claimed by His Boss: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Chapter 11 — The Price of Control

The private dining room at The Core Club didn't look like a restaurant; it looked like a vault. There were no windows, no ambient music, and the walls were paneled in acoustic sound-absorbing walnut. The air here was clinically still, designed for conversations that moved markets. Victor Vaughn was already seated. He skipped the faux-chivalrous pleasantries Julian used to drown people in and simply pushed a sleek, matte-black folder across the mahogany table. "I have a target," Victor said, his tone entirely stripped of the warmth he had displayed at the gala. "I want your unfiltered read on it." I took the seat opposite him and opened the folder. The first page displayed a familiar crest. Maison Delacroix. A century-old European high-jewelry house, famous for tiaras and bespoke emeralds. "Delacroix," I murmured, scanning the executive summary. "Incredible heritage. Archaic retail footprint. They are bleeding cash and opening up twenty-five percent of their equity to external cap

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Chapter 12 — The Quiet Alignment

The law offices of Sterling, Vance & Hayes smelled of lemon polish and expensive billable hours. Sitting at the far end of the glass conference table, I clicked my Montblanc pen and signed the final page of the injunction. "That’s it, then," murmured David Cole, the lead intellectual property attorney. He slid the document into a manila envelope. "The cease and desist for the V3 core algorithm is active. Carter Tech has forty-eight hours to strip your proprietary code from their servers. Failure to comply guarantees immediate federal action." "The V3 is woven into their baseline architecture. Pulling my code crashes their entire platform," I stated flatly. David offered a sharp, corporate smile. "Then Julian Carter is about to have a very bad week. We’ve also finalized the asset division. You retain one hundred percent of your liquid capital and initial stock options. A completely clean break." "Send the injunction directly to Carter’s board of directors," I instructed, standi

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Chapter 13 — The Viper's Pawn

The private lounge of the Aethelgard Club was draped in shadows and thick cigar smoke. Alistair Ashcroft tossed a printed document onto the low table. It was the term sheet Victor Vaughn had just issued to Maison Delacroix. Alistair stared at the clause highlighted on the third page: Priority debt. Narrow-based weighted average anti-dilution. He picked up his glass of vintage port, swirling the dark liquid in the dim light. "This isn't Victor," Alistair said smoothly, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "Victor is a traditionalist. He buys common stock and waits for the turnaround. This structure is a guillotine. Someone else is operating his legal team." His assistant, standing quietly in the shadows, stepped forward and placed a digital tablet on the table. "Mr. Vaughn had a private meeting at The Core Club on Monday afternoon," the assistant reported. "We pulled the exterior security footage." Alistair tapped the screen. A high-resolution image appeared. It showed Evel

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Chapter 14 — The First Impression

On the drive up the Hudson Valley, Lucian had given me a concise, unsentimental briefing on the family dynamics. I knew the general landscape of the territory I was stepping into before the Rolls-Royce even cleared the wrought-iron gates. Hawthorne met us at the door. "Welcome back, Mr. Blackwood. Ms. Thorne," the butler said, offering a flawless bow. His tone was perfectly polite, holding me exactly at arm's length. "Thank you, Hawthorne," Lucian replied, handing over his coat. I gave the butler a polite nod as he took mine, entirely unfazed by the formal distance in his greeting. We walked into the main drawing room. The space was magnificent, dominated by a massive stone hearth. The core of the Blackwood empire was already gathered in a lively pre-dinner ritual, with a string quartet playing softly in the background. Lucian guided me directly toward his parents. "Mother, Father," Lucian said, his voice cutting

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Chapter 15 — The Evaluation

The vaulted ceiling swallowed the light from the crystal chandelier, casting long shadows across the heavy mahogany table. There was no background music here. The only permitted sound was the precise, terrifyingly polite clink of heavy silver against bone china. Every movement from the waitstaff was spectral. Every sip of wine was calculated. It was a room designed to make outsiders hyper-ventilate, acutely aware that they were sitting among people who could buy and sell small countries before dessert. I cut a small piece of my duck confit, eating it with absolute composure. Alexander, apparently unwilling to let his earlier humiliation go unpunished, broke the heavy silence. He set his wine glass down, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I have to admit, Evelyn," Alexander said, his voice carrying easily down the table. "It must be quite a culture shock, transitioning from the tech world to a table like this. Technology is fascinating, of co

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Chapter 16 — Close Enough

Lucian closed the heavy oak doors, shutting out the rest of the world and the oppressive weight of his family’s estate. He reached up, pulling his tie loose with a slow, deliberate tug. His dark eyes shifted to the center of the room, landing on the single king-sized bed before sliding back to me. "Don't worry," Lucian said, his voice laced with a dry, knowing amusement. "You can trust my integrity, Evelyn. I'm a gentleman." "I’ll hold you to that," I replied smoothly. I left him in the bedroom and stepped into the massive walk-in closet to change. It was a sleek, dimly lit space lined with dark wood, glass, and rows of bespoke suits. I set my things down and reached for the back of my dress, my fingers searching for the minuscule hidden clasp at the nape of my neck. After a minute of fruitless fumbling, my arms started to ache. The intricate design of the gown made it entirely impossible to unhook witho

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Chapter 17 — Out of Place

Morning sunlight spilled through the narrow gap in the heavy blackout curtains, casting a single, bright line across the dark carpets of the bedroom. I woke up slowly, my mind drifting out of a surprisingly deep sleep. The air was warm. In fact, it was almost too warm. I shifted slightly, my cheek resting against something solid and steadily rising and falling. My fingers were curled effortlessly against a plane of bare, warm skin. I blinked the sleep from my eyes and slowly looked up. I had completely crossed the center line of the king-sized bed. I was practically plastered against Lucian’s side, my hand resting flat over his heart. Lucian was already awake. He was lying on his side, his head propped up on one hand. He was watching me with dark, clear eyes and a slow, amused smirk playing on his lips. "I see you take your own advice, Evelyn," Lucian murmured, his morning voice rough and impossibly low. "You really do seize unguarde

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Chapter 18 — Not One of Them

I met her gaze. My fingers tapped the edge of the leather box twice. The quiet sound echoed in the silent library. "He is fiercely territorial," I agreed smoothly, taking a slow sip of my coffee. "Which makes me wonder why you are standing in his private library. Excuse me, and you are?" The polite smile on her face fractured. She lifted her chin, her posture stiffening slightly as she recovered her aristocratic poise. "I'm Isabella Montclair. Our mothers are practically sisters," she said, her voice laced with an effortless superiority. "I've been coming to this estate since I was in grade school. I know my way around." "Then you should also know he doesn't appreciate uninvited guests in his place," I replied calmly, setting the coffee cup down. Isabella’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, but she quickly masked it with a soft sigh. "Victoria sent me to find you. She has tea waiting on the terrace, and we thought you might f

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Chapter 19 — A Demanding Ride

The scent of fresh hay and oiled leather filled the air of the Blackwood stables. The stable master, a nervous-looking man named Davies, immediately led out a beautiful, docile white mare. He offered the reins with a polite smile, clearly assuming that a woman who spent her life in Manhattan boardrooms would need the gentlest ride available. I politely declined. My attention had already drifted to the back of the stables, where a heavy wooden stall rattled under the force of a massive, restless animal. I walked over. Inside was a purebred black stallion. He was towering, his coat gleaming like obsidian in the dim light, and he was currently stomping his hooves, snorting aggressively at anyone who walked past. I stopped right at the edge of his enclosure. The stallion turned his massive head toward me, letting out a sharp, warning breath. I held my ground. Slowly, I reached my hand over the wooden gate. "

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Chapter 20 — Not for Sale

I snapped the golden locks of my suitcase shut. The sharp click echoed in the quiet bedroom. Last night, Lucian had been painfully well-behaved. We shared the same sprawling mattress, yet he kept a flawless, gentlemanly distance. His deliberate restraint only made things worse for me. The memory of that demanding ride and the lingering heat of his hands on my waist kept my mind racing late into the night. Even as I slept, the scent of cedarwood and the steady rhythm of his breathing seemed to pull at my senses. I smoothed down the lapels of my charcoal blazer, ready to leave this estate behind. A sharp knock broke the morning silence. I opened the door to find Hawthorne standing in the hallway, his posture incredibly stiff. "Miss Evelyn," the butler said, his tone perfectly measured. "The cars will be ready for your departure in forty minutes. Before then, Mr. Edward Blackwood requests ten minutes of your time in the East Wing study.

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