Semua Bab Too Late to Beg: My Ex-Wife is a Secret Billionaire: Bab 1 - Bab 10

Sleeping in a twenty-dollar bed reminded me of what Sebastien always said: that without him, I was nothing more than a speck of dust in the wind. He was right. I felt small, grimy, and utterly insignificant. But as I stared at the water stain on the ceiling that looked vaguely like a weeping eye, I realized one thing: at least dust is free to blow wherever it wants. The sheets smelled of industrial-grade bleach and a lingering dampness that made my skin crawl. The pillow was as thin as a ransom note, and the cover had a jagged tear where the yellowed foam peeked out like a rotted tooth. “This isn’t silk, Grace,” I whispered. My voice sounded too brittle for these peeling walls. I sat up, and the world tilted. The nausea didn't just rise; it slammed into me. This wasn't the motel's fault. It was the secret life inside me, demanding to be acknowledged. I clamped a hand over my mouth, fighting the urge to retch with every ounce of willpower I had left. “Not now,” I hissed at my own st

The silence that fell when I entered the ballroom was so absolute that I could hear the exact sound of Sebastien’s heart stopping when he saw me. My heels clicked on the polished marble. *Click. Click. Click.* Like a clock ticking down the final seconds of a doomed man. The dress was black, strapless, with a side slit that revealed my leg exactly as far as I wanted. The diamonds around my neck and wrists didn't just sparkle; they blinded. Every stone had been bought by me, with a receipt in the name of **Grace Elizabeth Moreau, CEO of Steel & Diamond.** “Who is that woman?” I heard someone murmur near the champagne fountain. “I don’t know, but she just sucked the air out of the room.” I smiled to myself. Five years ago, I was the woman serving champagne at Sebastien’s parties, a invisible ghost whose name no one bothered to remember. Now, I didn’t need to introduce myself. My presence was a loud, beautiful scream. I made my way through the crowd, chin held high. Businessmen steppe

The morning sun over the city was cold, a pale yellow light that didn't offer any warmth, much like my heart whenever I thought of the man I used to call my husband. I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window of the CEO suite at Steel & Diamond, a cup of bitter ginger tea in my hand. From this height, the people below looked like ants, scurrying about their lives, oblivious to the empires rising and falling above their heads.One of those ants was particularly familiar.I watched as a sleek, black sedan—one of the few assets Sebastien still possessed—pulled up to the curb in front of the Montgomery Imports building across the street. Even from the twentieth floor, I could recognize that confident, arrogant stride as he stepped out. He was wearing a charcoal suit, his shoulders squared as if he still owned the world.He didn't know that three minutes ago, I had pressed a button that would change his life forever."He’s here," a voice said from behind me.I didn't turn around. I didn't need

The silence in the penthouse was different tonight. It wasn't the peaceful quiet of a home at rest; it was the heavy, suffocating stillness that follows a declaration of war. After Sebastien had stumbled out of my office, the air had turned cold, and no amount of central heating could chase away the chill settling in my bones. He knew about Félix. The one card I had kept tucked so tightly against my heart had been flipped onto the table, and the look in his eyes—that mixture of shock, entitlement, and predatory calculation—haunted me.I stood in the kitchen, my hands wrapped around a glass of water I hadn't touched. Dominic was out on the balcony, his silhouette a dark, sharp edge against the shimmering lights of the city. He was on the phone, his voice a low, rhythmic murmur as he coordinated security teams and legal barricades. He was my shield, my partner, the man who had stepped into the vacuum Sebastien left behind and filled it with steel. But even with him there, I felt a primi

The breakfast table at the Rossi estate was a far cry from the cold, sterile mornings at the Montgomery mansion. Instead of the heavy silence that used to hang over the room like a shroud, there was the clinking of silverware, the smell of blueberry pancakes, and the frantic storytelling of a four-year-old. Félix was currently explaining, with great theatricality, how his "stick-sword" had successfully warded off a group of imaginary squirrels that were clearly spies for the "monster".I watched him, my heart full and heavy all at once. Across the table, Dominic was reading a digital tablet, but his eyes kept flicking to Félix, a soft smile playing on his lips that he rarely showed the world. It was a picture of a life I hadn't dared to dream of five years ago when I was sitting on the edge of a motel bathtub, clutching a plastic stick with two pink lines."Mommy, can Dom take me to see the horses today?" Félix asked, his face sticky with syrup."Dom has a lot of work to do, Félix," I