All Chapters of The Billionaire's Forgotten Ex-wife : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

[Lincoln]My father and I settle into the dimly lit study of my grandfather-in-law. The heavy scent of old books and polished mahogany fills the air, mixing with the faint aroma of cigar smoke that seems embedded in the very walls. The room is grand—intimidating even—with its high ceilings, dark oak shelves lined with legal tomes, and an air of quiet authority that only men like my Harold Walcott can command.My father shifts in his chair beside me, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, his shoulders stiff. He’s nervous—hell, even I’m a little uneasy. Grandfather sits across from us, his expression unreadable, but the slight downturn of his lips is enough to tell me this won’t be a pleasant conversation.He clears his throat, his voice steady and sharp. “There are some matters that still need settling, and I’d like us to be clear on the Clement Thompson situation before we move on.”Straight to the point, as always. No sugarcoating, no unnecessary pleasantries.My father exhales, nodd

[Arella]“Lin…coln…” My voice is dry and coarse, barely more than a whisper, but he hears it.He’s kneeling beside me in an instant, his face twisted in a mixture of fury and raw pain as his gaze lands on the gash at the side of my head. His touch is gentle but trembling, like he's afraid to hurt me more."Who did this to you? How did you—" He coughs violently, the sound wet and ragged.A drop of blood falls from his lips.My heart clenches.Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision as they spill like heavy rain. A thick, metallic scent clogs my nostrils, and my stomach turns."What’s that smell, Linc?" I murmur, my body swaying.Before I can process anything, I feel myself lifted, cradled in his arms. My body is too weak, too heavy, but the movement jolts another coughing fit from my burning throat.A firm hand presses something against my nose. His handkerchief.“Cyanide,” he rasps.My heart sinks into my stomach.My body tenses, horror gripping my chest like a vice.I know what cya

[Lincoln]"I can't find her Lincoln!" Ryder’s voice is hoarse, nearly drowned out by the chaos around us. The building groans under its own destruction, flames licking at the walls like ravenous beasts. Smoke burns my throat, but I push forward.Part of me feels gut-wrenchingly guilty for leaving Arella behind. The other part knows she’d never forgive herself if something happens to Bam Bam tonight.The masks we hastily put on do little against the toxic air. My lungs burn with every breath, and more blood spills from my mouth as Ryder stumbles, barely able to stand. His face is pale, sweat streaking through the soot clinging to his skin. I don't think he can go any further.Looking at Zach, I grit out, "Take him out. I'll check the eastern side.""But sir—" he starts to protest, his own steps faltering."Go!" I bark, shoving him toward Ryder before forcing my way deeper into the hellscape.I surge forward, weaving through the inferno, lungs screaming in protest. The cyanide gas hiss

[Arella]"Wait! Come back!"My feet pound against the ground as I chase after Lincoln’s retreating figure. He moves farther and farther away, his broad shoulders rigid, his pace unwavering. Panic grips my chest, crushing the air from my lungs."This is goodbye, Ella." No! It’s not."Stop! Stop!" I scream, my voice shattering in the empty void between us.But he doesn’t stop.With a startled gasp, I jolt upright, my breath coming in rapid, uneven pants. My chest rises and falls erratically, my heart hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to break free. The force of my abrupt movement sends sharp, agonizing waves of dizziness crashing through my skull, a pounding headache threatening to split my head open. My throat feels raw, my skin clammy with sweat.Disoriented, I reach up, fingers trembling as they graze my head, feeling the rough texture of gauze wrapped tightly around it. Where am I?My instincts take over, and my hands fly to my stomach. The panic sharpens, squeezing my lun

[Arella]“I knew I’d find you here.”The sound of hurried footsteps echoes through the open-air space, and I don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Bridget’s voice carries with its usual warmth, laced with the slight breathlessness of someone who should not be rushing anywhere—especially not in her condition.I finally glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, she’s striding toward me, her baby bump leading the way, a radiant contrast to the sharp concern flickering across her face. Behind her, Jordan follows, looking both exasperated and helpless, like a man who has long given up trying to slow her down.“Congratulations, Ella!” Bridget beams as she reaches me, wasting no time in pulling Theodore from my arms.A delighted squeal erupts from my son as he claps his tiny hands, his chubby legs kicking excitedly. “There’s my favorite godson!” Bridget coos, spinning him in her arms.Jordan’s face drains of color. “Bridget! Don’t twirl like that—you’ll affect the baby! And Theo!” He