Back In The Arms Of My Billionaire Ex Husband

Ashley sat down patiently, waiting eagerly for her test results. She had been feeling nauseous and fatigued lately, and her late period made her even more restless.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway, pulling her from her thoughts as the gynecologist appeared before her with a bright smile.

"Mrs. Montclair, I'm happy to announce that you're expecting," she said, handing over the results.

Ashley froze, her legs rooted to the ground. On her way to the hospital, the thought had crossed her mind, but she'd tried her best to discard it.

She walked out of the hospital, her hands trembling slightly as she got into the car. As the driver pulled away, she bit her lip, wondering how her husband, Dante Montclair, would react to such news.

He had been acting strange lately, coming home late, leaving her messages on read, and completely ignoring her existence. The thought made her stomach twist. She hoped he would react positively, that maybe this baby would bring them closer.

With that new thought, Ashley inhaled sharply, restraining her mind from running wild.

It was just past six in the evening when Ashley turned off the stove and let out a quiet sigh of relief. The scent of simmering beef filled the kitchen. She wiped the light sweat from her forehead and slipped off her apron, draping it neatly over the counter.

Carrying the serving dishes to the dining table, she arranged them carefully, hoping tonight would be different, hoping Dante would come home early for once so she could break the good news to him.

Lately, he had formed a habit of staying out late, and the unanswered calls from earlier had left her with a knot of worry. Each time she tried, the line had come back with the same cold message: User busy.

The click of the front door opening broke her thoughts. Dante strode in, whistling a cheerful tune that echoed through the quiet apartment.

"You're back!" Ashley said, genuinely surprised and even more taken aback by the light in his eyes. She couldn't remember the last time he had come home in such a good mood.

"What's the occasion? You seem happy," she remarked, stepping forward to take his jacket from him.

He didn't answer right away, just slipped off his shoes and loosened his tie.

"I made your favorite tonight," Ashley said, smiling softly. "Go freshen up so we can have dinner together. It's been a while, and I have something to tell you."

"We're having dinner at my parents'," he said casually, already turning toward the stairs. "Reese is back from London. She came by the office to surprise me earlier, and we grabbed lunch together."

The words hit her like a slap. She stood there, jacket still in hand, her smile frozen. Reese. The name that had lived rent-free in her marriage for years. The girl his mother once mentioned with a smile too sweet to be kind, the one who, in her eyes, would have been the perfect match for her son.

By the time Ashley found her voice, Dante was halfway up the stairs.

"You should get ready," he called over his shoulder.

An hour later, she stood in front of the mirror wearing a cream cashmere sweater and tailored beige trousers. Silver earrings glinted softly beneath her hair, which she had smoothed into a low bun.

Ashley told herself it was just casual, but every detail, from her makeup to her outfit, carried the quiet hope of making the right impression.

Even if it never seemed to be enough.

As they drove in silence, Ashley looked out the window as the gates automatically opened and the car rolled into the Montclair Estate.

Nothing much had changed since her last visit. The lawn was neatly trimmed, the fountain pristine. The car drove down the tree-lined driveway and came to a halt.

Even though they were her in-laws, she had only been here once in the past two years. Mrs. Montclair had made it very clear she didn't like her around.

Her first visit had been humiliating. She had come with Dante to tell his parents she was pregnant. She could still remember how Mrs. Montclair had coldly rejected her and the baby, suggesting she get an abortion.

Dante had insisted on keeping the baby, and they ended up getting married quietly, away from the public eye, with only his parents in attendance.

They stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the living area. Ashley looked around but couldn't find anyone at first. The living room was simple yet sophisticated, furnished with nude-colored sofas and armchairs. Artworks lined the walls, continuing into the hallway alongside antique furniture.

As Dante led the way to the dining room, they found Mr. and Mrs. Montclair already seated.

"Mom, Dad," Dante greeted, and his mother pulled him in for a hug.

"Glad you're here, son," she said warmly.

Ashley fiddled with her fingers nervously, feeling like a stranger in their midst.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Montclair," she greeted in a low tone.

The table fell silent for a moment, and Ashley felt a lump in her throat.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway. They all turned as Reese entered with a bright smile.

"I hope I didn't arrive late," she said.

She wore a fitted white blazer over high-waisted trousers, paired with black heels. Her hair was neatly styled in a low bun, and she carried a file in her hand.

"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Montclair," she greeted politely.

"Look who we have here! Long time no see, angel," Mrs. Montclair said with a warm smile, rising to give her a side hug.

"How have you been, Reese?" Mr. Montclair asked.

"I've been doing well, sir."

Reese's eyes drifted to Dante, and she smiled softly.

"Dante invited me over for dinner, and I couldn't turn him down."

"That's so sweet of you, angel," Mrs. Montclair said, motioning for her to sit. "You must be starving after a long day. Sit, have something to eat."

Mrs. Montclair served her a bowl of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

"Thank you so much for your kindness, Mrs. Montclair."

"Mrs. Montclair? Call me Aunty," she said with a laugh, leaving Ashley to raise her brows in surprise. As their daughter-in-law, she had never been given such privilege.

Reese's gaze shifted to the quiet woman beside Dante. There was something delicate about her, an almost timid grace.

"You must be Dante's wife," she said with a polite smile. "It's nice to meet you."

Ashley lifted her head slowly, forcing a small smile. "Nice to meet you too," she murmured.

As dinner went on, Dante and his parents laughed at Reese's jokes as she shared her experiences in London. Ashley remained silent, her fork moving absently across her plate.

At one point, Reese's eyes found hers again, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"What university are you attending, Ashley?" she asked.

The question hung in the air for a moment before Ashley replied, "I haven't started yet," trying to keep her voice steady.

Mrs. Montclair suddenly sneered. "When her mates were busy working hard to get into top universities, she was busy sleeping around."

A wash of shame came over Ashley. Mrs. Montclair had every right to scold her, or at least that was how Ashley had been made to feel. After all, she had gotten pregnant with her son's child at twenty.

Karma caught up with her quickly when she suffered a miscarriage months later. Since then, she hadn't thought about going back to school.

And now, being pregnant for the second time scared her even more.

The ride home was silent, heavy with words left unsaid. Ashley sat with her hands tightly in her lap, staring at the tall buildings and trees passing by the window. Shadows and light flickered across her face, but she didn't move or speak.

Before tonight, she might have tried to start a conversation, a small question about his day, a quiet comment about the weather, anything to bridge the distance. But after dinner, after the way he had left her sitting alone to talk to Reese, she didn't see the point anymore.

From the corner of her eye, she caught him glancing at her. That faint smile from earlier still lingered on his lips. But it hadn't been for her. She could still see him at the house, leaning slightly closer to Reese, speaking in a voice softer than she had heard from him in months.

She had watched the way his eyes warmed, the way his fingers brushed the table near hers as if they shared a secret.

He hadn't even tried to hide it.

She wanted to believe it meant nothing, that maybe they had been talking about something harmless. But Reese wasn't just an old friend. She was his childhood sweetheart, the girl his family had always wanted him to marry. And now she was here, not just in their lives, but in the center of their marriage.

Her eyes turned blurry with tears, and just then, the car pulled into the driveway. As Dante turned off the engine, his phone lit up. Ashley's eyes flicked to the screen before she could stop herself.

Reese.

Her name was boldly written across the screen.

He noticed. His gaze turned cold, sharp enough to make her look away.

"We're here," he said quietly, his voice flat. "Get out."

She stepped out without a word.

Morning came too soon. Ashley stirred in bed, her fingers brushing the still-warm space beside her. He had been there recently, but now he was gone. On weekends, he was usually at the gym.

She got up, dressed, and went downstairs. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the kitchen as she set breakfast on the table, trying to act like nothing had happened.

"Good morning. Breakfast is ready," she said softly.

Dante walked past her without a glance. From the living room, he picked up a file from the coffee table and came back. He dropped it on the dining table with a dull thud.

Her brows furrowed. "What's this?"

"Divorce papers." His voice was calm, too calm. His hands stayed in his pockets.

Her breath caught. "For... who?"

He gave her a look that made her chest tighten. "Do you see anyone else here? Just sign them."

Her eyes burned. "But... why? What did I do? Did I do something wrong?"

"Enough, Ashley." His voice didn't rise, but it cut like glass. "You're not enough for me. You came from an average family. You dropped out of school. You had a miscarriage. You're not fit to be my wife."

Her lips trembled. "And that's my fault? I got pregnant because of us. I dropped out because your mother told me to after I lost the baby. You think I wanted any of this?"

Dante's expression didn't change. "The only reason I agreed to marry you was because we were expecting a child. Now that the baby is gone, there's nothing left for me here."

"Or you mean because Reese, your childhood sweetheart, is back. We've been married for a year, and losing the baby isn't new, but now you bring up divorce?"

"You can say whatever you want, Ashley."

Her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. "Don't do this to me, Dante..."

He stepped past her as though she was in the way. "My decision is final."

Her mind raced. She couldn't go back to her father's house, not to the drunken rages, not to the fear. She knew he would trade her away if it suited him.

She looked down at her tummy, feeling completely helpless. She knew it was useless announcing the pregnancy to him now that all he could think of was Reese.

Her eyes dropped to the papers, his bold signature on the dotted line staring back at her. Her hand shook as she picked up the pen. Refusing would only make him find another way to torture her. With her heart breaking, she signed.

Upstairs, she packed her clothes into a suitcase. When she came back, Dante was lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone as if nothing had happened. She placed the papers on the nightstand.

Standing in the doorway, she met his gaze one last time. "If my absence makes you happy, then you won't have to see me again. Go be with her."

Holding the suitcase handle, she stepped away. Her knees felt weak, yet something deep inside kept her moving.

She was only twenty.

And she wasn't done yet.

Seven Years Later

A royal-blue Rolls-Royce Phantom screeched to a halt outside Luxe Haven.

The man in the back seat spoke up, his voice low and edged with irritation.

"Luxe Haven? You brought me to a club?"

His driver shifted nervously in the front seat. "Apologies, sir. The hotel I booked fell through at the last minute. This... was all I could get," he stuttered.

Dante didn't reply. One icy glance was enough to make the man wish he'd found a room in another city entirely. The driver scrambled out, opening the door with a mumble, "Right this way, boss."

Dante stepped out elegantly, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area. He wore a charcoal tailored suit that hugged his frame, the cut exuding quiet luxury. His diamond cufflinks caught the dim light, glittering in a way that left no doubt about their authenticity.

One glance at him was enough to tell anyone that the man could afford a weekend getaway in a foreign country without a second thought. He tucked his hands casually into his pockets, the subtle raise of his sleeves revealing the platinum watch resting against his wrist.

He strode into the building with smooth confidence, his driver trailing behind with the luggage. Inside, the faint thud of bass-heavy music reached his ears, drawing a faint sneer.

He hated noise.

He hated chaos.

He scrunched his face at the muffled beat echoing from the club floors.

The elevator was just ahead when a figure stumbled into view, a girl swaying on her heels, clutching a half-empty wine bottle. Before he could sidestep, the bottle slipped from her grasp, shattering at his feet and splattering across his suit trousers.

Her head lifted, a tipsy smile spreading across her lips. "You're so handsome," she slurred, biting her lower lip with clumsy seduction.

Before she could throw herself into his arms, Dante caught her wrists and shoved her aside, not with enough force to hurt her, but enough to send her sprawling.

"Watch it," he said coldly.

He despised any form of physical contact, especially from strangers.

The driver muttered a curse, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at Dante's shoes. His glare toward the girl was sharp enough to cut glass. She was dressed in what could barely pass as clothing a skimpy scrap of fabric that left little to the imagination.

"Get lost, bitch," he spat, before leading the way toward the elevator.

Neither of them spoke again until the elevator door closed, swallowing the muffled chaos of the club.

"My sincerest apologies, boss," the driver said quickly. "The whole place will be cleaned first thing tomorrow."

Dante's expression eased only slightly, and just then, the elevator chimed, announcing their arrival on the fifth floor. The driver set down his luggage and excused himself.

The first thing Dante did was shrug out of his suit jacket and toss it straight into the waste bin. He removed his watch with precise movements before heading into the en-suite bathroom to freshen up.

By the time he emerged, a towel hung low around his waist. Droplets from his jet-black hair slid down his toned abs and across his shoulders as he ran a hand through it.

He froze.

A woman lay sprawled across his bed, barely covered by sheer lingerie, her body shifting as she groaned softly.

"How did you get in?" Dante demanded, fury tightening his voice. Realizing he hadn't locked the door earlier, he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Who are you?" he asked, squinting at the masked figure.

Ashley didn't answer or even look at him. Her eyes remained half-lidded, her hands fumbling at her own chest in a disoriented manner.

Dante's patience snapped. After a fifteen-hour flight, the last thing he wanted was to deal with whatever mess this was.

He stepped forward to grab her and drag her out, but her mask slipped away.

His hands froze.

"Ashley?" he breathed, the name tasting both sweet and bitter on his tongue.

The face he hadn't seen in over a decade. The woman who had once stood beside him at an altar, wearing his ring, promising forever.

His ex-wife.

His mistake.

His everything.

But she didn't seem to recognize him. Her gaze was unfocused, her movements clumsy. It was clear she wasn't acting of her own free will.

He crouched beside her, and before he could say another word, she surged forward, pressing herself against him. "Touch me," she whispered, her lips brushing his ear as her breasts pressed against his chest.

He tried to pull away, but she clung tighter, a whimper escaping her. "Do something... please," she pleaded, her voice breaking.

Dante pried her off, his jaw clenched. Her cheeks were flushed, and when her eyes blinked open, they still looked hazy and unfocused.

She giggled, biting her lip as she reached for his bare chest, her fingers tracing over his skin. "What are these?" she murmured playfully.

He eased her back onto the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head. But she hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him down again.

"Kiss me," she breathed, her lips pouting.

He scoffed and pushed her away. Her touch was already affecting him, and he hated it. The tension in his lower body made him curse under his breath. He turned toward the bathroom, determined to take a cold shower before his restraint gave way.

Only he knew how long it had been since he'd let himself lose control like this.

"Hey!" Ashley sat up suddenly, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her breasts pressed firmly against his back.

This time, his resolve snapped.

With a growl, Dante turned and pushed her onto the bed, holding her down. His hands moved over her with the urgency of someone deprived for too long, tearing the thin lingerie as his control slipped away.