Semua Bab Ex wife’s return: Claiming the billionaire’s crown: Bab 11 - Bab 20

Scarlett hadn’t planned on going to the party.In fact, she’d spent most of the day convincing herself not to.But as evening deepened over Manhattan, the thought of staying home-alone with her thoughts, her doubts, and Grant’s voice still echoing in her head-suddenly felt unbearable.So she stood before her mirror, fastening the last clasp of her pearl earrings, and whispered to her reflection, “It’s just a party.”Then again, her reflection had always known when she was lying.Cassian leaned against the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching her with that faint smirk that always looked like he was in on a secret. “You’re really doing this,” he said.Scarlett adjusted the strap of her black velvet dress. “I owe Mrs. Langford a little courtesy. She was kind to me when she didn’t have to be.”“Kindness,” Cassian said dryly, “is how most disasters begin.”Scarlett arched her brow. “Then it’s a good thing I brought my favorite disaster with me.”He chuckled. “Touché.”The Langfords’ pen

Scarlett shut the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, eyes closed. The silence of her home pressed around her - soft, expensive, empty. For the first time that night, she let herself breathe.She missed Canada. Missed the quiet hum of her villa tucked between the pines. She missed her son,the sound of hi laughter echoing through the hallways. There, she wasn’t “Scarlett Monroe Ashbourne,” or the woman everyone whispered about - she was just his mother. And in that simplicity, she’d found a peace she realized she’d been starving for.Her heels echoed faintly as she walked toward the living room, but every step felt heavier than the last. Each one pulled her further from that warmth - the life she’d built far from the Ashbournes, from Cassian’s plans, from all of it.She poured herself a glass of wine, not because she wanted it, but because her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.The night replayed itself whether she wanted it to or not.Cassian’s voice. The porch light. The

The supermarket was quiet, except for the soft hum of the refrigerators and the faint melody of a jazz tune playing overhead. Scarlett tightened her grip on the shopping trolley, forcing herself to breathe evenly as she walked past the aisles.It was ridiculous that she was even here. She could’ve had one of her bodyguards handle this errand. But she’d insisted- she wanted normal for a day. Ordinary. The kind of day. where she could stroll through a grocery store without feeling the weight of a thousand eyes.Yet here she was, lost between two brands of almond milk, her vision swimming from the rows of identical cartons“You should go for the blue one,” a voice said from behind her - light, confident, and oddly familiar. “It’s creamier. Less watery than the other.”Scarlett turned.The woman who stood there was perhaps in her mid-twenties, all golden hair and soft amber eyes. She was dressed in casual elegance -a beige knit sweater, jeans that fit too well, and a delicate perfume tha

The elevator doors slid open with a low chime. Scarlett stepped into the penthouse, the faint scent of vanilla candles and clean linen wrapping around her. Manhattan’s night skyline stretched before her-sharp, golden, and endless. The city looked the same as it always had: untouchable, loud, alive. But something inside her had shifted.She’d spent the week handling meetings and lawyers, plotting her revenge-questioning it. But tonight wasn’t about business, or image, or control. Tonight was about him.She stood still in the quiet, heart racing. Then-The click of a door.A familiar voice and a soft giggle.“Mommy!”The sound of his voice hit her chest like sunlight breaking through clouds.Scarlett turned just as a small body hurled itself at her knees. She dropped to the floor instantly, gathering Theodore into her arms. His curls tickled her chin, his arms clinging tightly around her neck.“Oh, baby,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really here.”She squeezed him, her eyes b

The moment hung in the air like a held breath. Theodore’s small voice, so clear and innocent, sliced through the cold tension of the boardroom.“Mommy… is this Daddy?”Silence. Thick, suffocating silence.Every eye in the room froze on them-Scarlett, Theodore, and Grant. The board members’ polished expressions wavered, whispers dying mid-thought. Grant could hardly breathe, his chest tightened in a way he hadn’t felt in his life. The room-his empire,the carefully built walls he had known all too well-seemed to shrink around him, collapsing to the small boy who looked up with wide, anxious eyes. Theodore’s curls, his tiny hands clutching Scarlett’s, the way he mirrored his mother in gestures and expression-it was all too much for him to bear.He wanted to reach out, to pick him up, to speak, to say something-but words failed him and his feet stayed rooted to the ground.His throat was dry, his pulse hammering like a drumbeat of realization. This is my son. The truth slammed into him wi