Goodbye Forever Ex-Husband (by Ammund) novel Chapter 180

Chapter 180

Chapter 180

OLIVIA’S POV

We both stood up from the chair, Clara following behind us.

As I stepped out of the plane, New York air hit me in the face—and even that air made me want to puke.

It smelled like gasoline, noise, and bad memories. I closed my eyes for a moment, steadying my breath. The last time I inhaled this air, I wasn’t the person I am now. That Olivia was broken, betrayed, and afraid. This one? She was armored in elegance, power, and the lessons pain had taught her.

I had already hired security who were standing outside the jet waiting for me–tall men in tailored black suits and dark sunglasses, earpieces tucked into their collars. Three black SUVS idled behind them, their engines humming low. There was no way I was going to stay in this country without protection. Not after what happened here.

Damien stepped ahead, his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the surroundings like a child seeing Times Square for the first time.

“So this is New York,” he said, awe and amusement in his voice.

“Yeah. Welcome to New York, USA,” I replied, voice dry.

Without wasting any more time, we entered the car and drove out of the airport.

By the time we arrived at the hotel I had booked, my nerves had slightly calmed. It was one of the most luxurious in the city, tucked away from the noise but still central enough to overlook the skyline. Clara had already sent ahead our room requests, so the check–in was seamless.

Our suite was expansive, with floor–to–ceiling windows and a view of the Hudson River. The silence inside was a contrast to the city’s chaos outside. I dropped my bag on the nearest couch and kicked off my heels.

“I’ll have lunch brought up from the kitchen,” Clara said, tapping quickly on her tablet. “You’ll want to eat before the meeting prep.”

I nodded, barely acknowledging her as I wandered to the window. This city hadn’t changed–still fast, still ruthless–but I had. Now, I was no longer running from the ghosts. I was walking back into their territory with my chin high.

Lunch arrived moments later–simple but elegant. Grilled chicken over wild rice with a glass of freshly squeezed juice. I took a few bites, just enough to keep my body functioning. As usual, my appetite faded faster than I wanted it to.

“Clara,” I said, dabbing my lips with a napkin, “prepare the bidding funds. I want the transaction team ready tonight. The auction starts early tomorrow,

and I don’t want any mistakes.”

“Already on it,” she said with a nod, typing as she walked out of the room.

Damien sat by the window, flipping through a local magazine with a faint air of boredom. The late afternoon sun filtered in through the hotel room casting golden reflections across the polished floor.

“So,” he said, glancing up at me with a boyish smile, “now that we’re here, how about a tour?”

I raised a brow. “A tour?”

“Yeah. I mean–it’s my first time in New York. Might as well see what the hype’s about.”

I crossed my arms. “You do remember we’re here for business, right? The auction? Meetings?”

“I know,” he said, still grinning. “But even CEOS need to breathe. You might even enjoy yourself.”

I hesitated. The idea of blending into the chaos of the city, of loosening the tight grip I kept on myself, felt foreign. Dangerous, even. But something in his expression–so relaxed, so free–cracked through the wall I’d carefully rebuilt since returning.

1/3

Chapter 180

I sighed. “Fine. Just a short one.”

Before we left, Clara handed me my sunglasses and a hoodie, wordlessly reminding me that even a ‘short tour‘ could turn into a media frenzy if I wasn careful. I tucked my hair under the hood, slipping on the glasses, Damien, on the other hand, looked completely at ease in a fitted navy coat, his scari tossed over one shoulder like he belonged on the cover of a winter issue of GQ.

Two black SUVS rolled out of the hotel driveway moments later. Ours took the lead, with security following closely behind. Their presence was subtle but unmistakable, earpieces glinting beneath wool caps.

Even though the wind carried a slight chill, the park was alive with its usual vibrancy. Joggers moved along winding trails, children squealed with laughter near the playgrounds, and couples strolled hand in hand. It felt like another world–one untouched by the sharp edges of boardrooms and billion–dollar deals.

We walked slowly, our footsteps quiet on the gravel paths. Clara trailed behind, fingers flying over her phone. The security team gave us distance but never disappeared from my peripheral vision. Despite the hoodie and sunglasses, a few people glanced our way–some with curiosity, others with a vague sense of recognition. But no one approached.

“They’re better when you don’t think about what’s in them,” he joked.

Afterward, we wandered down Fifth Avenue. The chaos of city life enveloped us, but Damien moved through it with ease, making casual comments about fashion displays, mimicking runway poses to make me laugh. I tried not to–but failed.

We paused at a corner where a street artist was painting a skyline in bold, messy strokes.

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