All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Regret; His Crippled Ex- Wife: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter TwelveThe annual Metropolitan Architectural and Corporate Foundation Gala was held in the grand ballroom of the St. Regis. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, filling the spacious room with a brilliant glow as the city’s elite gathered for the evening’s celebration..I sat near the edge of the central dining table, my mahogany cane resting against my knee. Julian had insisted on our attendance; Vance Enterprises was the primary sponsor of the evening's urban restoration initiative, and as CEO, his absence would have raised questions. But even here, among three hundred executives, developers, and civic leaders, his protective umbrella extended over me like an invisible barrier."Are you warm enough, Eleanor?" Julian asked, turning his head toward me. He looked immaculate in a custom black tuxedo, his dark hair combed back smoothly from his forehead. "The air conditioning in these historic ballrooms can be unpredictable. I can have the hotel staff adjust the vent above o

Chapter Fourteen The dinner in the penthouse came up on Thursday evening, just a few days after the gala. The incessant rain dropped steadily on the huge glass of the sixty-fifth floor of the penthouse. Within, the surrounding light was dimmed to a glow that bounced on the polished marble and the gray coloured seats, thus adding to the beauty of the interior decorations. Julian had extended an invitation to Chloe to attend the dinner in our penthouse under the pretense that the invitation was to afford them the opportunity of discussing the commercial lease suitable for her Fifth Avenue clinic. But as soon as she arrived at the mansion, dressed in a simple fitted sweater and tailored blue trousers, the purpose of her presence became obvious. She didn't walk in as one who might become a tenant. She walked in freely like a master who came for formal inspection of a flawed building. “Of course, this place is stunningly beautiful, Julian," Chloe said, moving close to the livin

Chapter Sixteen The excruciating pain lasted till around 3:30 AM before it subsided, remaining a little feeling of headache that could be managed.The entire mansion was quiet. The raging storm had reached its peak, leaving behind a colourless drizzle on the glass.I stepped out of the washroom, supporting myself with my mahogany stick. I moved very slowly, nevertheless, my mind was much better than it had been in the last three years. The fear of pain, worry and anxiety had completely gone out of my mind.I walked slowly through the fully carpeted hallway to the living room. The suite was dim, except for the cool light reflecting from the little space under the door of Julian's study.I paused a few feet away from his private study door. I didn't bother to knock or call him.Peeping through the narrow opening in the doorframe, I was able to see Julian sitting on his desk. The light of his laptop screen lit up his profile in the dark room.Contrary to the claim that business reports

Chapter Eighteen The bell on top of the oak café door sounded softly as I opened it and walked inside to meet Sarah, my bosom friend. The café was tucked away on a quiet street just three poles away from Sarah's design firm, the cafe was a social and comfortable place with dark wooden furniture, rich coffee smells and strong leather booths. It was an escape route from the flashing cameras and curious eyes of Julian's social circle. Sarah was already seated in one of the corner booths, with two cups of black coffee on the table in front of her. Upon seeing me step in, slowly, but without supporting myself with cane, she was completely astonished. She rushed out of the leather booth, her designer gold bangles clinking against each other, and put her arms around my neck and shoulders in a warm and tight embrace. “Eleanor," Sarah breathed, moving back a little to look straight into my eyes. The makeup on her eye lashes was smudged a bit, her eyes glowing with unseen tears. "Take

Chapter Twenty On Day 4, the downpour returned to the city accompanied by vengeful strong winds.The time of day was late afternoon, and the sky, visible through the sixty-fifth floor windows had changed to deep purple. Strong winds hit the glass tower violently, and the biometric pressure caused a usual, terrible pain in my left leg.I sat at the dining table, with some legal documents.Julian was at the office, and Betty had gone home for the day. Taking advantage of the empty penthouse, I had spent the afternoon reviewing the final draft of the divorce petition prepared by Arthur Vance, my legal counsel.The contents of the documents were simple but ruthless. The petition cited absolute incompatibility and unresolvable differences, allowed no single partner the right to spousal support, sharing of material resources, or real estate properties, but demanded only the restoration of my maiden name, Eleanor Hastings.Apart from the legal papers, other documents on the table included m