All Chapters of My Ex-Husband’s Billionaire Boss Wants Me.: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Vincent. How dare he?My hands twisted the newspaper as I looked at the photograph printed across the front page. For a while, I thought my eyes were deceiving me.Julian Ferguson.Smiling.Kissing a woman.Attending a charity auction looking like a man who had just discovered happiness for the first time in his miserable life.I read the headline again.What the hell is this?For twelve years, I watched that boy bury himself in work. Twelve years! Not two. Not five. Twelve bloody years.The idiot even looked younger.I pushed my untouched breakfast away and looked around the study. The fire had long gone out. No one had bothered to come in and light it because everyone in this house knew better than to interrupt me.I lost my appetite immediately.Mrs. Jones was going to complain again. She always does whenever I skip breakfast. At this point, I am convinced that the woman worries more about my eating habits than my doctor worries about my blood pressure.She would walk into my stud

Gemma Walking back into the academy after staying away for a few days felt strange. Thankfully, the swarm of cameras outside had finally reduced. The gossip hadn’t disappeared, but at least I could make it through the gates without a lens shoved in my face. The moment I stepped into the teaching kitchen, I knew. Nobody said a word. Conversations faded one after another until the only sounds left were the rhythmic taps of knives against chopping boards and the low sound of the industrial ovens. I slipped my tote onto my station and reached for my apron as if I hadn’t noticed a single pair of eyes following me across the room. They all stared at me, Mr Lorenzo wasn’t here yet. “Morning, Gemma.” Lilly appeared beside me, offering the same easy smile she always wore. “Good morning.” She leaned against the counter, lowering her voice just enough that only I could hear. “You’ve become popular.” I tied the strings behind my back and let out a quiet laugh. “I’m not popul

GemmaI woke up with the faint scent of Anne's lavender tea still clinging to my memory.By the time I was dressed and ready for class, there was a knock at my door. One of Julian’s drivers stood outside.“Good morning, Miss Gemma.”“Good morning.”He held out my car keys.“Your Audi is back from the mechanic. Mr. Ferguson asked me to return it to you.”I looked at the familiar key fob resting in his palm before taking it. “Thank you.”“It’s parked downstairs.”I slid into the driver’s seat of my Audi. I missed it more than I realised. I started the engine and headed for the academy.I stood at my station, measuring out flour while the steady clack of Mr. Lorenzo’s knife echoed through the kitchen.Joe’s station, usually cluttered with half-used herbs and an open notebook, was completely cleared.Everyone was still talking, just not the way they usually did. When I reached for the salt, Sarah beside me suddenly became very interested in her dough.Ten minutes later, Mark—who had barel

GemmaA dress never crossed my mind. I wasn’t giving Richard the satisfaction of thinking this was a date.I wore a grey suit, a silk ivory blouse, and dark red lipstick that felt less like makeup and more like war paint. When I looked at myself in the full-length mirror before leaving my apartment, the woman who used to put everyone first was gone.Richard mistook my loyalty for weakness. He wasn’t getting another minute.The private dining room at the Grand Bay Hotel was quiet, the air smelled of polished wood, grilled steak, and expensive scotch.Richard was already waiting in the corner booth, swirling the whiskey in his glass. He wore a navy blazer, but the subtle dark circles under his eyes betrayed him. He was stressed. Good.When the waiter pulled out my chair, Richard didn't stand. He just smiled, the same smile he wore whenever he thought he’d put me back in my place.“I knew you would come,” he said, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I knew you would be reasonable once the e

Gemma.“Get up, Julian.”My voice was too loud for the soft morning light filtering through the blinds, but I couldn't bring myself to soften it.He didn't flinch. He slowly opened his eyes, tracking me as I stood at the edge of the mattress. I had already put on a silk robe, tying the sash so tight around my waist. The sheets were still tangled around his waist, a messy reminder of everything that had happened the night before.His dark hair was messy, but he looked at ease. “Good morning.”“Get up,” I repeated, stepping back toward the bedroom door. “You need to leave.”The warmth in his eyes faded, replaced by something quieter, harder to read. He didn’t argue. He didn’t ask why.He gathered his clothes off the floor and pulled them on quietly. I expected him to say something. To pull me into his chest, tilt my chin up, and kiss my forehead like he usually did to calm the storm in my head.He didn't.When he finished buttoning his collar, he walked past me in the hallway. He pause