All Chapters of The Boss Who Saved Me From My Stalker Ex: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

POV: Evelyn ReeveThe air on the third floor of the Meridian Miami building felt lighter today. It was as if the storm clouds following the whole Archer and Chloe scandal had finally been chased away by the Florida sun. Sunlight flooded through the floor-to-ceiling glass, turning the marble floors into a shimmering lake of light.I was hunched over my desk, eyes blurring slightly as I cross-referenced a stack of invoices.Clack.A matte black travel tumbler landed softly next to my keyboard."Oat milk latte. Half-sweet, just the way you like it," a rich, baritone voice rumbled.I looked up. Jovan was leaning against the edge of my desk, one hand shoved into the pocket of his grey tailored trousers. He looked infuriatingly sharp. The small cut at the corner of his lip had faded to a faint, jagged line that somehow only made him look more rugged—more real."You're a lifesaver, Jovan," I said, a genuine smile tugging at my lips."

POV: Evelyn"Do you want to be with me? Properly? As the only woman I ever take home to meet my parents?"The question hung in the humid Miami air, heavy and thick. Jovan’s voice was a low vibration that seemed to rattle the very bones in my chest. He was looking at me with that raw, unfiltered hope—the kind of look Archer never gave me. Archer always looked at me like an acquisition. Jovan looked at me like I was the sun.I felt the answer screaming at the back of my throat. Yes. God, yes.But then, the shadow moved.It started as a cold prickle at the base of my neck. Midtown. Archer’s apartment. The smell of expensive bourbon and the sound of a lock clicking into place. I remembered the promises of a ring, the way he whispered about our future just to get me to unravel for him.And then, the way he threw me away like a spent cigarette once the thrill was gone.The smile I was trying to form died. I felt the light in the room dim, r

POV: Evelyn ReeveThe scent of slightly singed sourdough filled Shae’s dining nook.I didn't care about the toast, though. I was too busy staring at my reflection in the window, my face radiating a glow that could probably put the Miami sun to shame.Shae sat across from me, her chin propped on her hands. She’d been wearing that same predatory, mischievous smirk for the last ten minutes."So..." she started, her eyebrows dancing. "How does it feel to wake up with a brand-new status, Mrs. Jovan Bradford?"I choked on my orange juice.I scrambled for a piece of toast, using it as a shield to hide my burning cheeks."Shut up, Shae! We aren't married. We literally just made it official last night," I muffled through the bread."Oh, please! Who was it that barged into my room at midnight, banging on the door just to scream 'Shae, he’s mine!' while jumping like a caffeinated kangaroo?"I winced. Okay, maybe the euphoria had ma

POV: Jovan BradfordThe iPhone on my desk thrummed with a persistent, low-frequency buzz that cut through the sterile silence of my office. The screen illuminated, flashing 'Kendrick Beckham' in a demanding rhythm.I didn't move. I sat back in my leather chair, elbows anchored to the mahogany surface, fingers laced over the bridge of my nose. I watched the light fade, letting the call slip into the void of voicemail, only for the vibration to start again seconds later.Kendrick was never one for taking a hint.I exhaled a long, jagged breath. There was no running from this conversation. Not today. I reached out, my thumb sliding across the glass to answer, before pressing the cold device to my ear."Hey, Kendrick," I said. My voice was a flat line, a careful mask for the storm brewing in my chest."Jovan! Finally. I was starting to think you’d pulled a disappearing act or were busy dodging destiny," Kendrick’s voice crackled with an annoying

POV: EvelynThe Miami night air was thick, a humid velvet that carried the sharp tang of salt and the distant, rhythmic pulse of the Atlantic. Neon lights from the shoreline hotels bled into the dark sky, casting shimmering streaks of violet and gold over the hood of Jovan’s vintage silver Porsche.Jovan drove with a relaxed, one-handed grip on the wheel, but I could feel the hum of his thoughts vibrating through the small space of the cabin. He was too quiet. Not the comfortable silence we usually shared, but the kind of quiet that follows a monumental decision.He didn't know I saw the notification on his phone earlier. A confirmation of a sent email. A 'No' to a dream he’d chased for five years. With one click, he had walked away from the London headquarters, the corner office overlooking the Thames, and the kind of global influence that defined men like him.He’d traded the world for a life here. For me.The thought sent a wave of heat through