Todos los capítulos de Betrayed by My Ex, Claimed by His Boss: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

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

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

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

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

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.