All Chapters of The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

MelowieThe Veyra archive was so old that it gave off a weird smell.Deep beneath the subterranean vaults of the estate in the hills above Italy, the room was insulated from the wind that whipped across the lake outside. I stood before a heavy desk in the center of the archive, a linen cloth in my hand, wiping a thin layer of grey dust from a silver-framed portrait of my grandfather.Three days had passed since the probate court unlocked the Veyra will. Three days since my name echoed across every financial wire in the Western hemisphere. The quiet, hidden life I had tried to build in the cliffside cottage was gone, stripped away the moment I stepped into my father’s shoes to assume control of the estate.I set the silver frame down, my thumb lingering on the glass.I was grieving two deaths at once, and the weight of it was a physical ache that sat heavy in my lungs. I mourned my father, whose body now lay in the cold earth beneath the cypress trees. And in the very same breath, I m

MelowieTo the global financial press and the terrified directors sitting in the Veyra Tower, my coat was the uniform of an unyielding young CEO. To me, standing alone in the private elevator as it descended into the subterranean medical wing of the estate, it was a shield. A six-month secret hidden beneath dark tailored fabric, guarding the soft, rhythmic flutters that had turned into firm, undeniable kicks over the past three weeks.My left hand rested flat against my lower stomach beneath the heavy coat, feeling the small, insistent press of a tiny foot against my palm.Six months.Six months of quiet, relentless chess moves. While the world watched me fight Lord Alistair’s proxy blocks in open board meetings, I had been silently siphoning small, untraceable threads of Veyra capital into a clean, independent structure, ghost reserve rooted in neutral territory, untethered to my family’s blood-soaked ledgers and miles away from the Varess debt lines.I wasn't just building a finan

MelowieThe pain wasn't like the cold, quiet agony of heartbreak. It was a wild, roaring ocean that tore through my body, wave after wave, ripping away every polished defense I had spent six months building.Inside the secluded private surgical wing of the estate, the world had shrunk to the harsh glow of overhead monitors, the rhythmic, frantic beep of my pulse, and the suffocating heat of sweat clinging to my skin. "Breathe, Mel. Look at me, breathe!"Sophie’s voice broke through the haze of agony. Her face was pale, her green eyes wide with a mixture of fierce love and terrifying helplessness as she gripped my right hand. Her fingers were bruised beneath mine, but she didn't pull away. She hadn't left my side for fourteen hours.No high-rise penthouses. No soft-spoken husband holding my palm and whispering sweet promises into my ear. No mother-in-law offering polite, artificial smiles in the waiting room.I was alone. Alone in the way that mattered most, fighting the hardest batt

NoelMy mother, Adelina Varess, sat in her high-backed velvet armchair by the marble fireplace, holding a fine porcelain teacup in her hand. Her posture was flawless, her platinum hair styled to perfection, her pearl necklace gleaming under the chandelier. She looked every bit the matriarch—unshakable, elegant, and entirely above the squalor of human messiness.I stood on the other side of the heavy glass coffee table, staring down at her.My heart wasn't just breaking; it was being ground into dust beneath the weight of every lie I had ever been fed. The physical paper report felt like a piece of burning iron in my coat pocket. My jaw ached from how hard I was clenching my teeth, my breath dragging in hot, shallow rasps through my throat."You look tired, Noel," Adelina murmured, taking a slow, poised sip of her tea without looking up at me. "You’ve been working yourself into the ground over those Veyra debt lines. I told Arthur weeks ago that you needed to step back for a fortnight

NoelIt was 3:00 AM. I sat at the edge of the leather sofa in the dark, the city lights bleeding through the ceiling glass like dirty watercolor stains. On the low walnut table in front of me sat a single sheet of creamy, heavy bond paper and a black fountain pen... the same pen I had used to sign the operational transfers that gutted my own life six months ago.My hand was shaking so badly the pen nib hovered a fraction of an inch above the page, dropping a single, round bead of black ink onto the paper. It expanded like a dark blot of blood against snow.I pressed the tip down and began to write.♡♡♡Melowie,I didn't ask.That is the truth I am dying of tonight. I stood in Nathaniel’s office while the legal team threw those forged Cayman spreadsheets onto the table, and I never actually looked into your eyes and asked you if you did it. I didn't give you the chance to breathe. I saw the numbers, I saw my mother’s pale, furious face, and I panicked.I was a coward. I hid behind the