All Chapters of Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband!: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Lily’s POV The door of my mother’s study clicked shut behind us, sealing us inside a bubble of tense silence. The afternoon sunlight cut through the window, casting long, pale stripes across the desk where Sienna had already set up her mobile command center.Sienna didn't waste a single second. Her fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop, the clicking echoing sharply off the walls. Lines of green code I didn’t understand appeared on the monitor, reflecting in the lenses of her glasses.Arnold stood near the doorway, his massive frame motionless, arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned the perimeter windows facing the front gates of Wisteria Gardens, guarding a cottage that suddenly felt a lot less secure than it had twenty-four hours ago.Diego sat beside me on the sofa, his arm resting across the back of the couch, his fingers lightly grazing my shoulder. He hadn't touched his coffee since we walked in; his dark, unwavering gaze was fixed entirely on Sienna’s screen,

Lily’s POVThe digital clock in the corner of Sienna’s workstation flipped silently to midnight, the green LED numbers cutting through the dim, blue-lit gloom of the study. Outside, Wisteria Garden was dead silent, wrapped in a heavy chill that frosted the windowpanes. But inside the room, the air felt electric, charged with the energy of a war zone."Execution window is open," Sienna announced, her voice tight. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard like a sniper waiting for the exact moment the wind dropped. "The short positions are peaking right on schedule. Their algorithmic margin calls are hitting automated triggers across European and Asian markets right now."I stood directly behind her chair, gripping the desk so hard my knuckles turned white. On the glowing dual-monitor setup, the financial charts looked like a jagged painting of mountain peaks. Millions of phantom shares—pumped mercilessly into the market by the Vance-Sterling Trust’s offshore shell companies over the past

Lilly’s POV.The door of the mountain safehouse clicked shut, sealing us off from the howling wind whipping through the high-altitude pines of the Adirondacks.Inside, the cabin was a stark contrast to the sunlit warmth of Wisteria Gardens. Thick stone walls, dark timber beams, and heavy iron-forged fixtures gave it the austere feel of a historical fortress which I half-hated. There were no smart-home automated lights either, no Wi-Fi routers humming in the corners, and no glass walls waiting to be shattered. It just had the timber, reinforced steel shutters, and a massive stone hearth where a steady fire was already roaring to life.Arnold stood by the mudroom window, carefully adjusting the heavy iron latches on the shutters before pulling down the blackout drapes. "Perimeter is sealed," Arnold reported, his voice dropping into a low register as he secured his sidearm in his holster. "The access road has two automated trip-wires a mile down. Anything on four wheels or two legs cros

Lily’s POV.The blinking red light on Julian Sterling’s remote detonator cast a sickly pulse across the wet floor of the shipping terminal.For a single heartbeat, the roaring wind outside and the dripping water echoing off the iron walls seemed to vanish, swallowed by the deafening hum of adrenaline surging through my veins."Drop it," Diego’s voice cut through the air like a razor. His hand didn't tremble as he drew his sidearm, the matte barrel locking instantly onto the center of Julian’s chest.Arnold mirrored the movement from the shadows to our left, his weapon swinging up to cover Julian’s flank, cutting off any possibility of a quick retreat.Julian didn't flinch. He didn't drop his hands, nor did his serene smile waver. He simply stood there in the center of the dark aisle, his overcoat catching the sickly amber glow of the flickering overhead light."You always were too quick to draw iron, Mr. Rookwood," Julian murmured, his voice carrying an effortless, mocking amusement.

Lily’s POV.The blinking red light on Julian Sterling’s remote detonator cast a sickly pulse across the wet floor of the shipping terminal.For a single heartbeat, the roaring wind outside and the dripping water echoing off the iron walls seemed to vanish, swallowed by the deafening hum of adrenaline surging through my veins."Drop it," Diego’s voice cut through the air like a razor. His hand didn't tremble as he drew his sidearm, the matte barrel locking instantly onto the center of Julian’s chest.Arnold mirrored the movement from the shadows to our left, his weapon swinging up to cover Julian’s flank, cutting off any possibility of a quick retreat.Julian didn't flinch. He didn't drop his hands, nor did his serene smile waver. He simply stood there in the center of the dark aisle, his overcoat catching the sickly amber glow of the flickering overhead light."You always were too quick to draw iron, Mr. Rookwood," Julian murmured, his voice carrying an effortless, mocking amusement.