Todos los capítulos de Betrayed by My Ex, Claimed by His Boss: Capítulo 51 - Capítulo 59

The scalding hot water had washed away the physical chill of the rain, but sitting in the middle of the massive bed in the master suite, I still felt entirely unmoored. Looking around the familiar, softly lit room, the violent emotional storm that had just taken place outside felt like a chaotic, feverish dream. My brain, which had been completely frozen in the downpour, was slowly starting to thaw in the comforting warmth of the penthouse, but my thoughts were still sluggish. I vaguely remembered the blur of getting back—Lucian had practically wrapped me into his side, half-carrying and half-shielding me from the relentless rain until we were secured in the back of his car. The quiet click of the bathroom door opening pulled me out of my daze. Lucian stepped into the bedroom, bringing a fresh wave of warm, damp air with him. He had just showered. He was wearing a pair of charcoal lounge pants and a thin black t-shirt that clung slightly to his damp skin. Water droplets clung to th

My brain completely short-circuited. I stared at him, my eyes wide, suddenly hyper-aware of the scorching heat radiating from his bare skin beneath my palm. A flustered, chaotic panic spiked in my chest. I scrambled to gather whatever was left of my usual composure, instinctively tugging my arm to pull my hand back. "I wasn't doing anything," I blurted out, my voice entirely too defensive. Lucian didn't say a word. He simply arched a single, dark brow. His gaze dropped slowly, deliberately, to where my hand was still resting beneath the hem of his shirt, my fingers literally curled against the hard ridges of his abdomen. The silence in the room stretched out, heavy and undeniably incriminating. I swallowed hard, feeling the flush of heat creep all the way up to my hairline. I looked at my hand, then back up at the wicked gleam in his dark eyes. "...Okay," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I was." Neither of us moved. We slipped into a strange, highly-charged s

I took another bite of the scrambled eggs, ignoring his clinginess. Lucian watched the movement, his dark eyes tracking the silver fork. "I want some," he said suddenly, his voice a low rumble against my collarbone. Without overthinking it, I scooped up a small bite and brought the fork to his lips. He ate it straight from my hand. He let out a low, contented sigh. Before I could pull the fork back, he leaned in again, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck. I instantly shrank back, dodging his lips. "Hey," I protested, trying to shift away. "You have butter on your lips. Don't get it on my neck." Lucian paused. He looked up at me through his dark lashes, his expression perfectly mimicking a wrongfully accused, abandoned puppy. "Are you disgusted by me, Evelyn?" he asked, his tone dripping with exaggerated, pitiful hurt. "No, but—" I sighed. I awkwardly tried to lift my arm to push his chest a little further away from my neck. But the moment I moved

The final round of applause in the main conference room marked the official conclusion of the Delacroix case. It had been an exhausting, high-stakes marathon, but getting those two Delacroix cousins to choose long-term stability over a quick payout had made every sleepless night worth it. Seeing the documents finalized on the projector screen brought a profound sense of relief. Victor stood up from the head of the table, his usual stern expression completely replaced by a rare, genuine smile as he looked at me. "Excellent work, Evelyn. You handled the negotiations beautifully. Your judgment made all the difference." I smiled, a weight lifting off my shoulders. "Thank you, Victor. It was a team effort." As the meeting adjourned and everyone began filing out, my colleague, Nina, immediately fell into step beside me, nudging my shoulder playfully. "Look at you, Evelyn. Crushing it in the boardroom, and clearly crushing it in your personal life. Some people really do have it all, don't

Victor had insisted on organizing a proper celebration after the Delacroix deal finally closed. By the time everyone had settled into the private dining room at Le Bernardin, the atmosphere was already lively. Wine glasses clinked, laughter bounced off the wood-paneled walls, and the tension that had hung over the team for so long seemed to have finally lifted. I was sitting near the middle of the long table, smiling as Nina dramatically recounted a minor crisis we had during the due diligence phase. Then, the heavy oak doors of the private room opened. The laughter from the colleagues seated nearest the door faded first. Then, the lively chatter slowly trailed off as heads turned toward the entrance. Forks paused over plates. The room went quiet. I turned my head to see what was happening. Lucian stood in the doorway. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored, dark charcoal suit, exuding a quiet, undeniable authority. When Nina had jokingly told me to "bring your fiancé" to the