Goodbye Forever Ex-Husband (by Ammund) novel Chapter 173

Chapter 173

Chapter 173

OLIVIA’S POV

After I finished brunch with Steph, I got back into the car with Clara trailing beside me as usual. We had spent over two hours talking and laughing, and even though I had a long day, Steph had a way of soothing my spirit like warm honey in tea. She always helped me shake off the stress of this demanding life I’d built for myself.

But now, as the car cruised through the upscale streets, reality slowly returned. I had too much on my plate–paperwork, pending deals, budget approvals, and that God–forsaken New York branch investors. Just thinking about it made my jaw tighten.

My mood, which Steph had carefully bandaged with her humor and presence, was already starting to unravel.

“What do they take us for?” I muttered under my breath. “Some ATM machine that spits out money whenever they feel like asking?” I sighed heavily and turned to Clara, who was busy going over the next day’s itinerary on her tablet. “I’m almost sure the only reason the New York branch is moving this slowly is because I’m not physically there to supervise them.”

“They should be lucky I’m still trying to avoid that city. If I were there, they’d have a taste of my fury–and they wouldn’t like it one bit.”

The convoy of black SUVS finally pulled into my estate’s driveway. The security gates closed behind us with a low mechanical hum. Two guards were already at my door before the vehicle came to a full stop. As they opened it, I stepped out, my heels clicking softly on the pavement. Clara fell in line beside me as we headed toward the front door.

The butler opened the large double doors with a slight bow, “Welcome home, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Miguel,” I said with a quick nod, walking in.

But then I froze. My brows furrowed the moment I spotted the unexpected presence in my living room.

There, sitting comfortably with one leg elegantly crossed over the other, was Damian.

He looked at ease, sipping from a delicate porcelain teacup, and as soon as he spotted me, his entire face lit up with a charming smile. He set the cup down and stood up to greet me.

“Olivia,” he said warmly, walking toward me, “it’s so good to see you again. You’re just as beautiful as I last remembered.”

Despite my surprise, I gave him a courteous smile. “Likewise, Damian. Thank you for the compliment. Please–have a seat.”

I turned slightly and gave Clara a brief nod. She understood immediately and slipped away quietly to give us privacy. I appreciated how she always read the room with precision.

I turned my attention back to Damian, trying to mask the mixed emotions bubbling under my skin. As he sat back down, I remained standing for a moment, analyzing him.

He was always well–dressed–today in a dark navy suit that looked tailor–made–and always polite. But still, there was a part of me that stayed guarded around him. Maybe it was because I had grown so used to controlling my space, or maybe it was because I didn’t know how to define whatever relationship we had.

“So,” I began, my voice composed, “what brings you here today? You didn’t inform me you’d be coming over.”

“I came to see you, of course,” he said smoothly. “Do I need a reason for that?”

He chuckled, then added, “Besides, I wanted to apologize. I know I’ve been absent these past few months. Work has kept me tied down more than I’d like to admit.”

I nodded slowly, taking a seat across from him. “It’s fine. We’re all busy.”

The truth was, I hadn’t missed his visits. That might sound cold, but I had learned to keep my circle small and my heart even smaller. After all, people had

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Chapter 173

a tendency to disappear when you needed them most. Steph and Julian were the exceptions. I could be myself around them–flawed, open, and

unfiltered.

As if summoned by the tension, Clara returned quietly with a tray of tea. She placed it gently between us and gave me a brief look before retreating again. I picked up my cup but didn’t take a sip.

“And how’s Charlie?” Damian asked, leaning back in his chair.

At the mention of my son, my expression softened.

“He’s doing well. Growing fast,” I said with a smile. “He’ll be five in a few months. Can you believe it?”

“No,” Damian chuckled. “Feels like just yesterday he was crawling around the office floor.”

I laughed lightly, remembering those early days.

“He still talks about you, you know,” I added. “He sees you as some kind of superhero.”

That made Damian smile genuinely. “That means a lot. I know I’m not his father, and I’m not trying to take that place–but I’m happy he looks up to me.”

I paused for a moment, considering his words. “You’re good to him. He needs good men around him–people he can admire and learn from.” I replied as I brought the delicate teacup to my lips and took a small sip. The warmth of the tea did little to ease the storm of thoughts constantly running through my mind these days.

Just then, a soft chime rang from the table. A new notification appeared on my phone screen.

Clara, ever attentive, reached for it and scanned the message. Her brows knit slightly as she read through whatever it was. After a moment, she looked up at me, her expression unreadable.

“What is it?” I asked, setting my cup down gently on the saucer.

“Well,” she began carefully, “you’ve just been invited to an exclusive auction event in New York.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Forget it. I’m not going.”

Clara didn’t back down. “This might actually pique your interest, ma’am,” she said, emphasizing her words with a deliberate tone that suggested I should at least hear her out.

My curiosity got the better of me. I turned fully to face her, arching/an eyebrow. “Go on.”

Clara held my gaze, always confident in the way she presented things. “It’s not just any auction. It’s… unique. I think you’ll find what they’re auctioning to be very interesting.”

“Such as?” I asked, folding my arms.

Clara smiled slightly and said the words slowly, like she knew they’d hook me in. “A Rolls–Royce Black Heart.”

I turned to glance out the window beside me. The sunlight filtered gently through the glass, illuminating the view of my private garage. A lineup of some of the finest classic and vintage cars in the world stood proudly under my name. Each of them symbolized something–milestones, victories, power.

Owning the Black Heart–one of only five left–would elevate that collection. It wouldn’t just be another car parked in my collection; it would make a statement. A declaration of dominance. Of global recognition.

wea, z Jur

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