All Chapters of EX-HUSBAND MISTAKE: FROM SUBSTITUTE TO BELOVED. : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The last of the day staff left at 8:40. And I was right, Solene didn't leave then. I waited until the main floor was empty, then walked to the front entrance and turned the heavy deadbolt. The sound echoed once through the loft. I crossed to the side door and locked that too. When I turned, only three people remained under the studio lights: herself, Levi standing near the windows with his hands in his pockets, and Solene at the inventory station, still shutting down the laptop like it was any other night. Levi had arrived a while ago and caught Solene lurking around so he brought her in. Solene looked up. Her expression stayed careful, polite. “I live around and needed to get some supplies?” I didn’t answer. I walked to the long glass cutting table in the center of the room, set a slim folder down, and opened it. Two printed sheets slid out first—screenshots of encrypted message threads, timestamps clean, the exact photo of the fake inventory log Solene had taken the night befor

All the temperature-controlled trucks rolled up to the loading dock just after dawn.I stood on the concrete with Reza and two of the cutters, coat pulled tight against the early chill, watching the rear doors swing open. The rare French mulberry silk sat in sealed, climate-locked crates—bolt after bolt of pure organic fiber, the exact weight and hand I had fought to free from customs. The air that spilled out was cool and clean. I stepped forward, cut the first seal myself, and laid my palms flat on the top layer.The silk slid under my hands like water. Soft. Dense. Alive with that subtle natural variation no synthetic could ever copy. I closed her fingers slowly, feeling the luxurious give of it, the quiet promise of three hundred more gowns that could now actually be cut.“Unload everything,” I said. “Priority tables. We start the moment the last crate is inside.”By mid-morning the loft had transformed.The new silk covered half the cutting surfaces in soft ivory and deep natura

It was the first time I stepped my foot in Levi's home. His penthouse sat high above the city. I sat on the long low sofa, shoes discarded beside me, legs tucked beneath, the same blouse I had worn into the boardroom still faintly creased from the long day. The quiet hum of the night city rose through the floor-to-ceiling windows—distant traffic reduced to a low mechanical thrum, the occasional faint siren that never quite climbed this high. Rain had begun an hour earlier, soft and steady, streaking the glass in slow vertical lines that caught the scattered lights below. The only illumination inside came from a single floor lamp and the muted glow of the skyline. Levi moved through the open kitchen without noise, sleeves rolled to the elbows, silver beard still neat even at this hour. He set a glass of water on the low table within my reach and sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, leaving a careful, respectful space between us. “You should eat something,” he said. I shook my

YILENA'S POV The first security team arrived before noon. I stood at the front windows of the atelier and watched two unmarked black SUVs pull up to the curb. Six operatives stepped out in coordinated silence—dark clothing, earpieces, the quiet competence of people who did not need to announce themselves. Levi had not asked permission. He had simply sent the message: Detail is live. 24/7. Biometric upgrades start in one hour. By early afternoon every entrance to the atelier carried a new lock. The heavy, reassuring metallic click of high-tech biometric scanners echoed each time a door opened or closed. Thumbprint. Retinal flicker. Soft green confirmation light. The sound settled into the studio like a new heartbeat—solid, final, impossible to ignore. Reza tested the main door twice, listening to the click, then nodded once. “Feels different.” “It’s supposed to,” I said. I moved through the loft as the team finished wiring the last side entrance. The silk on the tables still

The balcony door stood open to the night.I stepped out first, the soft click of my boots against the stone the only sound until Levi followed and closed the glass behind them. The crisp cool night air moved across my bare arms and the open collar of my shirt, clean and sharp after hours spent under studio lights. Somewhere far below a car horn sounded once and faded into the low, constant hum of Chicago after dark.I rested both hands on the railing and looked out. The Vanguard Gala was less than twenty-four hours away. The flagship gown hung finished on its form inside the loft. The collection was packed, labeled, ready. For the first time in months the only thing left to do was wait.Levi came to stand beside me, close enough that the sleeve of his jacket brushed my arm. He didn’t speak at first. He simply shared the view, the quiet, the rare stretch of calm.After a long moment he turned his head.“Do you ever regret it?” he asked. The question came soft, almost careful, stripped