All Chapters of It’s Your Loss, Ex, Your Uncle Is Mine: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Bella’s POVTwo weeks went by in a blur of gray skies, rain, and the smell of old paper. Settling into life at Oxford felt like stepping into an entirely different universe. The historic stone buildings, winding cobblestone paths, and massive libraries were a world away from the red-light district in Ohio and the painful memories of my marriage to Josh.Garvin had been an absolute godsend. He helped me find a modest, quiet studio apartment near the campus edge and guided me through the enrollment process. I spent almost every waking hour reading books on corporate management, supply chains, and economic theory. I was not here to socialise or enjoy student life. My sole focus was to gain the knowledge needed to return home and revive my grandmother's dilapidated textile factory. I needed to prove to myself that I could build something lasting on my own.It was a chilly Tuesday morning when I walked into the large, circular lecture hall for my first advanced economics class. The room

Bella’s POVThe autumn leaves at Oxford turned from deep green to bright gold and dark red. For the first time in my life, I felt like a normal young woman. The terrible weight of my past seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a soft, glowing happiness that I had never experienced before.Maximo had leased a quiet, luxurious estate just outside the university town. It was surrounded by tall oak trees and manicured gardens, hidden away from prying eyes. Our secret romance bloomed in the warmth of that home.Weeks passed in a blissful routine. We shared candlelit dinners prepared by a private chef, took long late-night walks through the quiet grounds, and spent peaceful weekends reading by the large marble fireplace. Maximo loved to surprise me with small gifts—a leather-bound vintage book on textile history, a delicate silver necklace, or simply a fresh bouquet of white lilies waiting on my desk.Every night spent in his arms felt like a safe harbor. I was no longer a lab rat,

Bella’s POVTwo years flew by like a whirlwind. The quiet stone streets of Oxford had become my sanctuary, a place where I transformed from a broken, terrified girl into a confident woman with a clear purpose.Today was graduation day.I stood in front of the grand mirror in my apartment, adjusting the dark black graduation gown over my simple white dress. The red and silver velvet hood rested neatly on my shoulders. I had worked tirelessly day and night, buried under mountains of textbooks, to reach this moment. I was graduating at the very top of my class with a degree in business administration.When I stepped out onto the sunlit courtyard of the university, the air was full of celebration. Laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses filled the space. Garvin was there, holding a beautiful bouquet of yellow roses, his face beaming with pride."You did it, Bella," Garvin said, handing me the flowers with a warm, genuine smile. "I always knew you had it in you.""Thank you, Garvin,"

Josh’s POVI was sitting in my mother’s luxurious living room. Ever since my divorce with Bella, my life had been falling apart. My medical research venture was struggling to stay open, my reputation was ruined, and the local elite looked down on me. I spent most of my days drinking whiskey and staring at old photographs.When the text message arrived from my spy at the mill, I nearly dropped my glass."She is back?" I whispered, my eyes wide with shock and anger as I stared at my phone screen. "Bella is back in Willow Creek?" My mother, Mrs. Kingsley, sitting across from me in a high-backed velvet chair, set her porcelain teacup down with a sharp clink. Her eyes turned ice-cold at the sound of Bella's name."I told you," my mother said, her voice dripping with venom. "I told you that girl was nothing but trouble. She did not come back to run a rusty old textile mill, Josh. She came back to destroy us." I stood up, pacing back and forth across the thick rug. "Why now? Why would she co

Bella’s POVWith our debt cleared and the bank off our backs, the heavy iron gates of the **Riley-Ross Textile Mill** swung wide open for the first time in years.I hired back thirty local workers, buying raw cotton with the small remaining pool of funds Garvin and I had scraped together. For two brief days, the factory floor hummed with a rhythm I had dreamed about since leaving England. The long-silent looms clattered to life, filling the vast brick building with the smell of warm machine oil and fresh cotton fiber.But the peace did not last.On Thursday morning, the main floor went dead silent. The steady thrum of the spinning machines sputtered out, replaced by a cold, heavy stillness.I stepped out of my small back office, holding a clipboard, and walked onto the concrete floor. All thirty workers were standing in a tight circle near the central loom. Standing in front of them was Frank Vance, the senior foreman. He was a broad, burly man with thick, calloused hands and a sour