All Chapters of The Billionaire's Ex-wife Is His Boss: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

NoelThe words hung between us like fresh frost over an open grave.I believe you have something that belongs to my family.My hands trembled , and they rested on the edge of the obsidian table. The silence in the room was suffocating, heavy with three years of unasked questions, buried tears, and the agonizing, slow-burning regret that had turned my soul to ash."How?"The single word dragged out of my throat, raw and ruined. I gripped the leather folder in front of me so hard the heavy parchment creaked under my knuckles. "How did you acquire thirty-one percent of Varess International without a single compliance alarm going off? Our automated risk protocols, our internal equity monitors, they are designed to flag any accumulation above three percent! Nathan couldn't have executed this through the Italy exchanges without triggering a mandatory board review!"Melowie stood there, wrapped in that immaculate snow-white suit, her posture entirely relaxed, yet holding a stillness that te

NoelFor seven torturous days, the Varess Tower felt less like an executive suite and more like a war room waiting for a executioner’s drop.The conference table was buried under mountains of white paper, red-tagged legal briefs, and glowing tablet screens. Empty espresso cups and silver trays with untouched, stale sandwiches littered the sideboards. The air smelled of burnt caffeine, recycled oxygen, and the sharp, metallic stench of panic.My mother, Adelina, sat at the far end of the table, her face pale, her eyes rimmed with angry red veins. She hadn't left the building in three days. Her hair, usually styled into an unyielding, immaculate helmet, had strayed out of place, thin wisps hanging over her hollow temples. Every time a door clicked open, her head snapped up, her claw-like fingers gripping her pearl necklace as if it were a rosary keeping her from drowning.I sat in my chair at the head of the table, my jacket off, my white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, my sleeves rol

NoelI sat back in the heavy leather chair, my tie unknotted and hanging loose around my collar, staring at the encrypted document that had just dropped into my private inbox.I told myself I was doing this for the company. I told myself that as CEO of Varess International, it was my fiduciary duty to run a background check on the woman who had just seized thirty-one percent of our voting stock. I told myself it was standard due diligence.It was a lie. A pathetic, hollow lie I told myself so I wouldn't have to face the sickening truth: I was starving. I was a dying man crawling through the desert, desperate for a single drop of information about the woman who had walked back into my life looking like an executioner in a suit.I needed to know who she had become. I needed to understand how the gentle, quiet girl who used to curl up on my chest had turned into a stone-cold predator who could look me in the eye and strip my life away without a flicker of emotion.I hired Kearls Duke...

MelowieNolan was sitting on a thick sheepskin rug near my desk, quietly stacking wooden blocks with small, deliberate hands. His dark hair curled slightly at the nape of his neck, so soft, so completely unburdened by the storm brewing outside these stone walls. Every time his small fingers let a block fall, he looked up at me, his sky-blue eyes wide and bright, waiting for my smile.I gave it to him... a soft, quiet curve of my lips that belonged only to him.Then my desk phone vibrated once. A low, encrypted frequency.I reached out, pressing the speaker button without taking my eyes off my son. "Go ahead, Sophie.""The Varess board is finishing their quarterly review in fifteen minutes," Sophie’s voice came through, crisp, razor sharp, and utterly steady. "Noel just presented his five-year maritime expansion projection. He pinned forty percent of their projected growth on securing the controlling shares of Trans-Alpine Logistics."I picked up a heavy, silver fountain pen from the

NoelThere was a charity gala at the Grand Hôtel. It was a sea of glittering crystal, and quiet, ruthless sharks.I hadn't touched a drop of alcohol all evening. I stood near the marble pillars, my black tuxedo feeling like a straitjacket, my eyes sweeping the grand ballroom. The arbitration meeting had ended four hours ago. The Veyra Group had formally integrated their equity block, and while the room buzzed with polite laughter and classical violin strings, every single corporate executive in Geneva was watching me.They were watching a dying king wander through his own court.Melowie hadn't attended. But her brother had.Nathan Veyra stood near the terrace doors, surrounded by two private wealth managers and a foreign diplomat. He wore an immaculate, bespoke dark tuxedo, his posture rigid, his sharp jawline set in a permanent line of cold disdain. He looked every bit the protective Veyra heir—unapproachable, dangerous, and utterly loyal to his sister.I didn't care about the diplom