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Chapter 8 : She is not my wife
Last Updated:
2025-01-02 17:43:52
Latest chapter
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 198 : Mr. Vanderbilt, weren’t you married?
Ava walked slowly along the fourth-floor corridor, her footsteps muted by the thick carpet beneath her shoes. The hallway seemed unusually long tonight, stretching ahead like a quiet trial she had already accepted but could not avoid.At the very end lay the terrace.The hanging garden there was dimly lit, its main lights switched off. Only small decorative lamps glimmered among the shrubs and flowering vines, casting soft halos of light that gave the place a dreamlike, almost deceptive tranquillity. Leaves stirred gently in the evening breeze, brushing against one another with a faint, whispering sound.She followed the narrow stone path between the flowerbeds until she saw him.Alexander stood beneath a tall mimosa tree, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, the other holding a wine glass. His head was tilted slightly upwards, eyes fixed on the night sky as if searching for something that refused to answer him. Moonlight filtered through the leaves above, dappling his shoulders a
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 197 : Then why are you putting my nails in your pocket?
On the second floor, in the quiet of the guest bedroom, Ava stood alone on the balcony, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Beyond the stone balustrade, the evening sky burned in layers of rose, amber, and violet, the clouds lit from beneath as the sun sank slowly out of sight.She stared at it without really seeing it.Fate.She loathed that word.Fate had taken her mother far too early and replaced her with Araminta—cold, calculating, and cruel beneath a veneer of civility. Fate had pressed her family to the brink of ruin and left her powerless enough to accept terms she should never have had to consider.If he had not been him—If she had not been her—If Alexander Vanderbilt had not been the all-powerful heir to a merciless dynasty, and if she had not been a woman with nothing left to bargain but herself… then none of it would have happened. She would never have agreed to those nights. Never have allowed herself to be cornered into submission simply to save her father from R
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 196 : So your heart doesn’t race, but your body misses me?
Did he think she wanted to be sitting on top of him? If it weren’t for that damned strand of hair, she wouldn’t touch him even if someone paid her.Ava pushed herself up at once, straightened her clothes with brisk, irritated movements, then glanced down at him. “Are you alright?” she asked quickly, tone clipped. “I didn’t hurt you when I bumped into you, did I?”As she spoke, her eyes were already searching.Where was it?She scanned his chest, the grass, the folds of his jacket—nothing. Perhaps it had fallen when she collided with him.Her heart loosened slightly.Then—The corner of her eye caught it.A short, dark strand, half-hidden beneath the edge of his collar, swaying gently with the breeze like it was mocking her.Damn it.Even the universe was conspiring against her today.Suppressing the urge to swear, Ava stepped closer again, schooling her expression into one of concern. “That’s good,” she said lightly when he murmured that he was fine. She lifted her hands and brushed at
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 195 : You two chat for a bit—I’ll be back once I catch one!
Because the shoot had wrapped ahead of schedule, by the time the mother and son returned to the mansion the sun had yet to sink below the horizon. The sky burned with shades of amber and crimson, bathing the ancient stone structure in firelight and accentuating its solemn, time-worn grandeur.The moment they entered, Marcello ran straight to the window, climbing onto the window seat and pressing his hands against the glass, gazing out at the sprawling grounds below.“It’s so beautiful,” he sighed, eyes shining. “I wonder if Uncle Vanderbilt is around. I really want to go horse riding.”“Aren’t you tired after running about all day?” Ava replied, setting her backpack down on the sofa. Her tone was casual, but she still watched him carefully before turning toward the washroom.She switched on the tap and washed her hands, the familiar sound of running water calming her slightly. Reaching for a paper towel, her gaze suddenly stalled.The electric toothbrush sat on the washstand.On the le
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 194 : you really do have something to hide.
After a long stretch of silence, Finn finally returned.“Sir,” he said carefully, his voice low, “there really isn’t any.”Alexander turned.He studied Finn for a moment—long enough for the assistant to feel the weight of that gaze settle on his shoulders—before Alexander suddenly stepped forward and pushed past him.He reached for the pillow Marcello had slept on.Slowly, deliberately, he lifted it.The white pillowcase was immaculate.No stray strands. No loose fibres. Not even the faintest shadow of a hair caught in the weave.Alexander’s jaw tightened.Impossible.A child slept there. A woman with long hair had tucked him in, sat beside him, perhaps even leaned down to kiss his forehead. Hair shed was inevitable. Biology alone guaranteed it.Unless—“Has the room already been cleaned?” Alexander asked sharply.Finn shook his head at once. “Impossible. I personally instructed the staff not
Billionaire’s Virgin Ex-Wife * 1st * Chapter 193 : Search again,
The entire fourth floor had been knocked through and remodelled into Alexander’s private workroom and study.On the western wall stood an ebony bookshelf, its shelves lined with books arranged with almost obsessive precision—finance, architecture, design, history. Everything stood in quiet order. The eastern side of the room was his workspace: film reels stacked neatly, architectural models displayed under soft lighting, fabric swatches draped with deliberate care. Nothing here was accidental. Nothing was out of place.Alexander crossed the room, selected a vinyl record from the shelf, and placed it onto the turntable.With a soft click, the needle dropped.Music spilled into the air—slow, languid, a mulberry jazz tune sung by a woman with a husky, unhurried voice. The melody curled lazily around the room, unbothered by time.Alexander leaned back against the workbench, arms folded loosely across his chest, eyes lowered as he waited.Minutes passed.Then—Footsteps.His blue eyes narr
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