All Chapters of My Husband Chose His Ex When I Was pregnant: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Elena’s POVThe heavy diesel roar of three industrial wrecking excavators filled the misty morning air along the coastal cliffs, their steel claws tearing ruthlessly through the grand stone facade of the Cole mansion. High limestone arches crumbled into gray dust, hand-carved mahogany beams snapped like dry twigs, and fifty years of gilded tyranny collapsed into a mountain of rubble against the slate sky.I stood on the ridge five hundred yards away, dressed in a black wool trench coat with my collar turned up against the cold ocean breeze. Julian Vance stood a pace behind me, holding a tablet displaying the real estate transfer deeds for the city's women's shelter foundation."The demolition team estimates total clearance by Friday evening, Miss Vance," Julian said, his voice carrying clearly over the distant crash of falling stone. "By next month, the perimeter fencing will be down, and construction on the public park and crisis center will begin."I didn't take my eyes off the coll

Elena’s POVThe air along the coastal ridge was thick with the scent of wet pine, churned earth, and the sharp brine of the Atlantic ocean.A high wire-mesh fence now enclosed the perimeter where the Cole mansion had once loomed like a grey stone mountain. Inside the gates, the rubble of fifty years of luxury had been completely cleared away, leaving only flat, graded soil and the deep concrete footings for the new crisis center and public park.I stood near the edge of the cliff, dressed in a black tailored wool coat, my hands tucked into my leather gloves. Five hundred yards to the south, the ocean crashed violently against the jagged rocks below, sending white spray high into the cold morning air.Alistair Vance’s private car remained parked by the access road, but I walked the grounds alone, flanked only by two discreet security officers keeping a respectful fifty-yard distance.I stopped beside the grove of three towering pine trees at the far corner of the property. The soil ben

Elena’s POVThe secure digital communications suite on the private executive floor of Vance Global Tower was completely soundproofed. Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, night had fallen over Manhattan, painting the city in cold shades of obsidian and neon blue.Inside, the only illumination came from a massive, ultra-high-definition wall monitor.Julian Vance stood by the primary encryption console, his hands trembling slightly over the keyboard. "The private video link has been established through the federal prosecutor's office, Elena. The warden at the upstate facility has cleared the line for ten minutes. It is completely unrecorded and unmonitored.""Leave the room, Julian," I said smoothly, sitting in a high-backed leather chair behind the central glass desk. I wore a sharp charcoal wool suit, my hands folded calmly over the dark wood. "Stand guard outside the door yourself.""Yes, Miss Vance," Julian replied, bowing his head quickly before stepping out and pulling the reinforc

Elena’s POVThe observation deck of the Tokyo Financial Tower stood eighty stories above the glittering, neon-soaked grid of Nihonbashi. Outside the curved glass, a violent typhoon swept across Tokyo Bay, driving rain against the reinforced panes in torrential sheets. Inside, the quiet was absolute, broken only by the quiet hum of high-frequency servers and the rhythmic clicking of my trading team’s keyboards.I stood at the center of the private executive suite, wearing an ivory silk blouse beneath a dark slate-grey suit jacket, my posture erect, my hands folded calmly behind my back.Surrounding me were eight of Vance Global’s elite quantitative analysts, their faces illuminated by the multi-screen trading terminals casting blue and green light across the room."Fifteen minutes until the morning bell on the Tokyo Financial Exchange, Miss Vance," Julian reported, stepping up beside me with an encrypted tablet. "Kaelen Ross’s primary holding firm, Helios Pacific, has already loaded th

Elena’s POVThe air inside the private terminal at Le Bourget was cold, damp, and smelled of jet fuel and autumn rain. Outside the tall, glass-walled lounge, the grey Parisian sky hung low over the runway, where Vance Global’s Gulfstream G650 sat gleaming under the floodlights, its engines idling in a low, vibrating hum.I stood by the glass, a cup of dark espresso resting untouched in my saucer on the small marble table beside me. I wore a tailored charcoal wool coat over a slate silk dress, my dark hair secured in a low, polished knot at the nape of my neck.Behind me, the soft chime of an encrypted tablet broke the quiet room.Julian Vance stepped forward from the lounge bar, setting down his bottle of mineral water. He looked at the glowing screen in his palm, his brows drawing together into a sharp line."The formal invitation from the French Ministry of Economy just cleared our diplomatic portal, Elena," Julian reported, his voice low and deliberate. "Minister Laurent has agreed