Semua Bab The Billionaire's Forgotten Ex-wife : Bab 211 - Bab 220

[Arella]"Are you sure you don't need any backup? I don't understand why you won't let me send more backup."Shaking my head, I comfort my grandfather over the phone as the car hits bumps on the uneven desert road, the tires dipping into shallow pits and loose gravel kicking up dust clouds that filter through the cracks of the car windows. The vehicle rocks like it’s just as nervous as I am. My voice stays steady and solid. "We already have enough reinforcement, Grandpa. Don't worry—Thompson is not escaping this time around."I want to believe that. I have to believe that. If I don’t hold it together now, I’ll fall apart like wet tissue paper.My eyes trail to Vivian beside me. She's shrinking into the seat like she wishes the world would swallow her whole. Her hands are sweaty on her lap, and her knees haven’t stopped bouncing. She looks like she’s two steps away from puking or pissing herself—or both. It's hard to believe that they was actually a time in this life, I'd considered he

[Arella]“Fuck you, Lincoln Sawyer!” Thompson’s voice tears through the air, cracked and furious, soaked in desperation as he launches backwards with one final burst of rage. His boot slams into Lincoln, sending him staggering back a few steps and before I can even think, he’s charging at me—wild-eyed, unhinged, like something that’s crawled straight out of hell and decided it wants to drag me back with it.But Lincoln doesn’t go down easy.He moves like something deep inside him just snapped back into place. One moment he’s stumbling, breathless, the next he’s lunging like a damn freight train, grabbing Thompson mid-sprint and twisting with enough force to rattle the concrete under our feet. Thompson’s body slams into the ground with a sickening thud, the gun flying from his hand and skittering across the floor with a metallic scream as the punches from Lincoln connects with his face.“Arella!” Lincoln’s voice cuts through the chaos, raw and real.With thinking anymore I run to him,

[Lincoln]I mean, sure, Arella and I appeared on TV a few days ago when the Mayor of Chicago wanted to publicly appreciate our efforts, and I knew—rationally—that everyone must know I'm alive now. But I didn't expect this.I didn't expect the entire airport to already be flooded like a damn concert just to catch a glimpse of us. The jet had barely touched the runway, the tires still hissing from contact, and yet-it’s like the whole damn city of San Diego decided to show up for a party.From the distance, the sharp staccato of camera shutters echoes through the thick, humid air, flashes popping like fireworks across the runway. The chaotic chorus of reporters shouting questions and calling our names roars louder with every step we descend.A cheeky, loopsided grin spreads across Arella’s face as we start down the stairs of the jet, her hand still tightly locked with mine, her spirit practically buzzing with unbothered amusement. Her entire energy screams: I own this moment."You're lov

[Arella]TWO MONTHS LATERThe courtroom is cold, Not physically—but emotionally. It's almost too quiet.My hands sit frozen in my lap, unmoving for the past five minutes. A dull, anxious ache hums beneath my skin, but I can’t bring myself to shift. Lincoln sits beside me, our fingers tightly laced, grounding me. His other hand works swiftly over his phone, typing out what I’m sure are urgent work emails.Work had only gotten busier since he resumed.You’d think having two CEOs would make things easier. It only doubled our workload.I had tried to argue my way into stepping down, maybe becoming his VP or something less suffocating—but Lincoln wasn’t having any of it.Apex Conglomerate was clawing its way into the world’s elite, growing bigger, louder, more powerful by the day—and Lincoln made it crystal clear he wouldn’t let me miss a second of it.I blink myself back to the present as the judge adjusts his glasses, his stern gaze dropping down to the man standing trial.The man who a

[Arella]I whip around, eyes widening as I practically leap off Lincoln's lap in surprise."You're here!" I blurt, caught off guard but grinning. "I thought you said you couldn’t make it."Standing there, looking sheepish and a little road-worn, is Deric. He scratches the back of his head, wearing that same awkward, harmless smile he has these days."I wouldn’t have made it," he admits, voice a little raspy from travel, "but my flight was delayed... so I thought, what the hell, why not crash the party anyway?""Deric," Lincoln says, stepping up beside me, his hand still resting easy at my waist."Lincoln," Deric replies with a short nod, his voice even.There's a brief pause—more out of old habits than real tension—before Deric extends his hand. Lincoln studies him for a beat, then accepts the handshake without hesitation, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, civil smile.The tightness I hadn't even realized was clenching my chest slowly eases."This is, uh, for your son," Der