All Chapters of My Husband Chose His Ex When I Was pregnant: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Elena’s POVBy midnight, the gilded dining room of the Hôtel de Charost was empty of French officials, leaving only cold crystal glasses, discarded linen napkins, and the sharp ink of signed executive agreements resting on the mahogany table.Minister Laurent had retired to his private study an hour earlier, visibly exhausted by the high-pressure negotiations, but entirely compliant. The official permits granting Vance Global full management rights over the Lyon-Turin high-speed rail corridor were signed, sealed, and transmitted directly to the Ministry of Transport in Paris.Baroness Valerie von Bernhard stood near the floor-to-ceiling balcony windows, looking out over the quiet, rain-slicked courtyard of Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. The emerald velvet of her gown caught the dim light of the dying chandelier, her posture stiff and unyielding despite the total defeat of her European strategy.I sat at the end of the long table, closing my leather briefing folder with a quiet, decisiv

Elena’s POVBy three o'clock that afternoon, the sixteen heavy crude tankers anchored in the outer harbor of Marseilles had received their official clearances. From the glass suite of our private terminal at Marseille Provence Airport, I watched through high-powered binoculars as the massive black hulls slowly glided into position along the fuel pipelines.Julian Vance stood behind me, typing rapidly into his encrypted tablet."The French Financial Prosecutor's office in Paris confirmed receipt of Mateo Rossi’s formal tax settlement," Julian said, his voice clipped over the low hum of the server racks. "Rossi signed over thirty-five percent of Trident Syndicate's storage capacity before twelve-thirty. He didn't attempt to negotiate the dividend percentages.""Rossi knows the difference between a setback and total annihilation," I replied, setting the binoculars down on the glass conference table. "When a man sees his entire life's ledger sitting on a table in front of state auditors,

Elena’s POVThe coastal highway was a line of black asphalt slick with salt spray and driving midnight rain.The four armored sedans of my motorcade moved in tight formation, their headlights cutting through the dense, heavy fog rolling off the Atlantic cliffs. Beside me in the rear seat, Julian held his encrypted handset glued to his ear, his knuckles white as he repeatedly dialed Alistair’s private line.Nothing. Just the flat, hollow tone of an unassigned digital channel."Still dark," Julian said, his voice strained above the low, vibrating hum of the engine. "And the local police dispatch in the township hasn't received any emergency calls from the estate perimeter.""Because Victor didn't use force, Julian," I said smoothly, looking out the tinted window at the dark outline of the pine groves passing by. "A man who walks into an eighty-five-story skyscraper with a twenty-eight-year-old trust deed doesn't send armed men through the front gates. He uses keys."Marcus sat in the fr

Elena’s POVVictor didn’t shout. He didn’t make a scene or scream threats as Marcus’s team escorted him from the eighty-fifth floor.He simply stood up, smoothing his pinstripe suit with pale, trembling hands, leaving the yellowed 1998 deed sitting inside its acrylic sleeve on the mahogany table. As he passed my podium, his dark, hollow eyes met mine for a fraction of a second—not with rage, but with the quiet, terrified realization of a ghost who had finally been dragged into the sun.The heavy glass doors clicked shut behind him, leaving fifty of Wall Street’s most powerful institutional investors sitting in absolute, frozen silence."Item two on our morning agenda," I spoke, my voice smooth, cold, and entirely unbothered, as if an imposter hadn't just been purged from the room. "The final authorization for our North Atlantic deep-water expansion."No one asked a question about Victor Vance. No one challenged my proxy authority. Within twelve minutes, the board voted unanimously to

Elena’s POVThe heat of Singapore at five in the afternoon hit like a wet, heavy towel the second the Gulfstream's cabin door pressurized and opened. Rain had fallen an hour prior, leaving the tarmac at Changi General Aviation Center shimmering like black glass under a thick, humid sky.Inside the private customs lounge, Julian was pacing behind a row of low leather couches, his phone pressed so tightly to his ear his knuckles were white."The Manila port director isn't taking our calls," Julian said, dropping the phone onto the low glass table with a heavy thud. "He's sitting in an emergency session with the Philippine Maritime Industry Authority. Mei-Ling's debt acquisition cleared through Dubai at midnight, but the local authorities aren't even pretending to audit the filing. They’re rubber-stamping her lien as if it came down from the Supreme Court.""They're rubber-stamping it because Aetheris Energy controls eighty percent of the energy grid powering Luzon," I said calmly, stepp