روايات وقصص ضمن Chasing My Billionaire Ex Wife

Grey I'm standing in the living room of my second mansion, with my body seething with rage. I stare down at the phone in my hand, my grip tightening around it. The picture of my wife, Caroline, Callie, and me at the restaurant is plastered all over the internet. #Grey Grand, the Billionaire CEO cheating on his wife with her fraternal twin# #He’s a cold, cruel human being# # Cheating with her twin? That’s horrible#

"I am going to strip myself of every ounce of pride I have left. I am going to show up at her gates every single day until she looks at me. I will sleep in the rain if I have to. I owe her five years, and I am going to spend the next fifty making it up to her." Outside the door, Zara squeezed her eyes shut, a single tear sliding down her cheek. The wife-chasing crematorium hadn't just begun. The billionaire was already burning.

By the time I tried to reach her, someone had already buried her, someone who wasn’t me. I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and forced myself to focus, flipping through her words as if they might give me back the mother I had lost and hated. Then something stopped me. A line, sharp and unsettling: ‘Being the wife of a billionaire isn’t as beautiful and heavenly as others think.’ My breath caught. My mother… married a billionaire? I felt the sting of betrayal tighten in my chest. After leaving me behind in Russia twice, after the absence, the grief, she had gone on to marry a billionaire in New York?

I took the remote and switched on the TV. "Yes, that’s why we suspect Mr. Winters wants his ex-wife back, who is now a businesswoman, secret sources say it’s because she is a billionaire now who can save his family’s company, a company that his current girlfriend, or rather fiancé, brought down with her oniomania disorder.” “What?!” I turned and saw Cassie, who had her mouth wide open. I switched off the TV. “I’m not addicted to shopping,” she said and came to me.

He seemed to be really rigid. "So, you and Adrian are just friends huh?" Mrs Gonzalez turned around to face me. "No Mother, they are more than just friends, and the cunning lady newly divorced her husband, and fled New York City with Adrian while carrying a child for her ex-husband," a sudden strikingly familiar voice filtered into the dining room. The clicking sound of her heels further deafening my ears.

She couldn't help but gasp in awe as she took in the beautiful surroundings. The living room was adorned with luxurious furnishings, a large television screen displaying the news in the background. As Leila glanced at the screen, a realization dawned on her, a realization that left her speechless. She hadn't just married a handsome stranger; she had married a handsome billionaire! The shock of what she just saw washed over her for a moment. She turned to Lucas, a hint of surprise in her eyes. Lucas gaze met hers with a gentle smile. "Surprised?" He asked, his tone laced with a hint of amusement.

made me go hard, and I know I want to see her again. Yeah, but how? the voice in my head scoffs. Are you really going to start dating the daughter of your ex-wife? How fucked up is that?’ I merely shake my head. I’m a fucking billionaire, and billionaires do what they want. They go to Mars. They rearrange the federal government. Fuck, they even get involved in European politics. Fucking a young girl who happens to be an ex’s daughter is the least of it. At that moment, I stroll by my massive garage and see Henry, my chauffeur, wiping down the yellow Lambo.

“That’s a fucking…sorry, I mean a fudging million dollars car. How can I not like it?” “Ohhh, okay. I thought you have lots of expensive cars, since you are the wife of a billionaire,” he says as he walks towards the car, digging his boot into the snow. “I do, I just don’t have a Lamborghini Reventon,” I say, following up behind him. It’s as if we are walking inside a big pool, but this is worse. I wonder why the snow doesn’t go down. “Oh really,” I hear him say. “Yeah.” I try pulling out my left leg from the snow but it’s as if it got stuck.

Watching him load shopping bags into his own car was, somehow, the strangest normal thing I'd seen all day. Once we were settled inside and moving again, silence stretched between us...long enough that I found myself studying the ring on my finger, it was beautiful....then the mountain of bags, then him. "Mr. Blackwood." He glanced up. "Adrian" "Sorry, Adrian, If I'm supposed to be your wife, I should probably know something about you. And you don't know much about me, either." "I know enough." "You don't. What happens if your family asks me what your favorite color is?"

’ My thumb hesitated, then, out of a weird mix of boredom and curiosity, I clicked. The page loaded, and a picture filled the screen. A man. A familiar man. My stomach dropped like a stone. It was Donald. My ex-husband. My breath hitched. He was standing there, in what looked like a beautiful garden, wearing a crisp suit. And beside him, her hand linked with his, was a woman. She was beautiful, with bright eyes and a wide, beaming smile. The caption underneath confirmed my worst suspicions, or perhaps, what I should have expected all along. Donald was now married to his "childhood love."