Lahat ng Kabanata ng The CEO's ex-wife is Untouchable : Kabanata 51 - Kabanata 60

Marcelline stood in her penthouse at 8:30 PM, staring at her reflection with the kind of dread usually reserved for executions.She'd spent the entire afternoon contemplating not going. Had drafted a dozen different text messages to Lucien explaining why she couldn't make it, why a family dinner after thirteen years of silence was too much, too soon, too complicated.Had deleted every single one.Because the truth was simple and infuriating: if she didn't show up tonight, she'd spend every moment wondering what had been said in her absence. What decisions had been made about her future. Whether her position as CEO had been quietly dismantled while she hid in her penthouse like a coward.The Odettes didn't forgive absence. They remembered it. Used it. Weaponized it.So she'd go. She'd sit through whatever performance her father had orchestrated. And she'd face her family with the same composure she brought to boardrooms full of hostile investors.Even if it killed her.The dress she'd

Marcelline woke to morning light streaming through her expensive curtains, the kind that filtered sunlight into a soft golden glow that interior designers charged fortunes to achieve. Her eyes snapped open, and panic flooded her system.She was late.Her internal clock screamed at her that she should have been up an hour ago. She threw off the covers and swung her legs out of bed, already mentally running through her morning routine, calculating how long it would take to shower, dress, review the morning reports—Then it clicked.Saturday.It was Saturday. A weekend. No office. No meetings. No quarterly reports demanding her attention or board members questioning her decisions or Damien plotting her downfall.Just... nothing.Marcelline sank back onto the bed, the adrenaline draining away and leaving confusion in its wake. What was she supposed to do with a Saturday? Her life had been so consumed by work—first as Rowan's wife managing his household and social calendar, then as CEO man

Selene Vale sat on her bed, a glass of champagne in her hand—Dom Pérignon, because she'd needed something to steady her nerves after the day she'd had. Maxwell was dead. Kenneth Dunlap was circling like a shark. And Rowan... Rowan was probably tearing his organization apart looking for the traitor who'd helped stage his prisoner's suicide.But she was safe here. Anonymous. Just another wealthy woman in an expensive hotel, paying cash, using a name that wasn't quite hers.The hotel room glowed—gold lamps, crisp sheets, a city laid out beneath glass. Why the lights were so harsh she didn't know. Perhaps it had something to do with her running away from Leon after he had helped her.This is what needed to be done. Leon knew this.She convinced herself.This was the second day she was there in the hotel and she had no idea what she’d do next. Harold called her later that day telling her that someone got the footage of that day, and she couldn't remember asking anyone to do it. Had Leon go

Marcelline arrived five minutes early.The Odette boardroom sat on the forty-second floor, all glass and steel and controlled silence. Morning light spilled in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting off the polished table that could seat twenty people comfortably, though only twelve chairs were occupied today.Her chair, her chair, waited at the head.Interim CEO, the placard read.Interim.She ignored it and took her seat anyway, smoothing her blazer, grounding herself with the familiar weight of responsibility. This was supposed to be a formality. A confirmation. Her father had stepped back. The press had already run with the announcement. The company needed stability, and she was here to give it.So why did it feel like a trial?The board members filed in one by one, each greeting polite, restrained, professional. No warmth. No congratulations. Even the ones who had smiled at her yesterday now looked… carefu

By midweek, the financial team submitted a report that made her brow crease.Minor shifts. Fractional acquisitions. Nothing large enough to trigger alarms.Shell companies.Perfectly legal. Perfectly invisible.She stared at the names, then at the ownership trail that dissolved into offshore anonymity.Someone was buying confidence.Not control.Not yet.Damien wasn’t reaching for the crown.He was building the chair beneath it.***Lucien noticed before she did.Of course he did.Jokes on him. She noticed too.He appeared in her office unannounced that evening, leaning against the doorframe with that unreadable expression he wore so well. The one that could mean anything from mild concern to complete calculation. With Lucien, you never really knew until it was too late."You've been busy," he said lightly, his tone suggesting casual observation rather than the loaded statement it actually was.Marcelline didn't look up from the contract she was reviewing. Her desk was covered in docu