All Chapters of The Boss Who Saved Me From My Stalker Ex: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

POV: JovanThe ride back to Shae’s place felt like a funeral procession. Usually, I’d find some excuse to tease her about how my helmet swallowed her whole, or we’d be arguing about whether to grab Thai or Italian for dinner. I’d feel her arms—tentative, soft—looping around my waist as the bike leaned into the curves of the Miami coast.Not today.There was only the guttural thrum of the engine and the salt-heavy wind of Sanur biting at my skin. It felt cold. Wrong.I kept cutting my eyes to the side mirror. I wasn't checking for cops or lane-splitters. I was looking at the woman behind me.Evelyn wasn't holding on.Her hands were flat against her thighs, her fingers frantically twisting the hem of her blouse in a rhythmic, obsessive motion that made my chest tighten. Her gaze was hollow, fixed on the asphalt rushing beneath us as if she were trying to find a way to disappear into it.Archer, you son of a bitch.Before we’d lef

POV: Evelyn ReeveThe morning in Miami usually hums with the gentle rhythm of the Atlantic breeze filtering through the shutters.Today, however, the air inside Shae’s living room felt heavy. Stagnant. Like the pressure before a hurricane.Shae was pacing a frantic line in front of the sofa, her phone gripped so tight her knuckles were white. The sharp clack-clack-clack of her heels against the marble floor grated on my nerves, echoing the erratic beating of my own heart.On one hand, a VIP client from New York had just moved their meeting up to this morning—a career-making opportunity she couldn't afford to ghost.On the other hand, there was me.I was curled into the corner of the sectional, clutching a grey throw pillow to my chest like a riot shield. I tried to force a smile, but I could feel how brittle it was."Shae, just go," I said, my voice thin. My fingers were trembling beneath the fabric of the pillow. "Serious

POV: ArcherThe ceiling fan in this roadside motel creaked with every sluggish rotation, a rhythmic, metallic groan that grated against my raw nerves. The air was thick—heavy with the smell of stale Pall Malls and the kind of dampness that only exists in cheap rooms where the AC has given up.I sat on the edge of a mattress so thin I could feel the springs digging into my thighs. My phone was pressed to my ear, my knuckles white. My vision was swimming in a haze of red."You think I give a damn, Sienna?!" I spat into the receiver. My voice was a jagged edge, tearing through the quiet of the room. "I left because I couldn't stand the sight of your face for one more second!"Sienna’s laugh came through the line, sharp and laced with venom. "Oh, so now you’re disgusted? After you bled my accounts dry to keep up your little 'lifestyle'? You’re going after Evelyn, aren't you? You pathetic, ungrateful prick. You really think you can craw

 POV: Evelyn ReeveThe air in the Meridian Miami lobby turned leaden in a heartbeat.My knees buckled. I could feel Maya, Stella, and Celine closing ranks around me, their hands steadying my shoulders as the world tilted. I was a Finance Analyst, a woman who dealt in hard numbers and cold logic, yet here I was, disintegrating into a pile of nerves on the marble floor.Archer was a blur of frantic motion and the sour stench of expensive bourbon. He lunged, his fingers clawing the air toward me, but he never reached.Jovan was faster.He didn't just step in; he claimed the space. With a jaw set like granite, he caught Archer’s wrist in mid-air. It was a calculated, clinical movement—a simple joint lock that sent a visible jolt of pain through Archer’s drunken frame.Jovan shoved him back, a hard, two-handed strike to the chest that sent Archer staggering five feet across the lobby."Leave, Archer. Now," Jo

POV: EvelynThe hum of the air conditioning in Damian’s office was a low, steady drone, but to my ears, it sounded like a physical snarl.I sat with my spine rigid against the leather guest chair, knuckles white as I gripped my lap. Beside me, Jovan’s presence was a heavy, grounding heat. He looked relaxed, his posture casual, but the hard set of his jaw and the rhythmic tensing of his forearm told a different story. He was vibrating with a suppressed, lethal energy.Damian Vale exhaled a long, weary breath. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose—a rare crack in his professional armor."I’m not going to sugarcoat this," Damian began, his baritone calm but weighted. "What happened in the lobby... it wasn't just a scrap. The problem isn't the fight itself. It’s the optics."Jovan opened his mouth to interject, but Damian held up a hand, silencing him."I know it was self-defense, Jovan. And pe