Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 102

The girl's eyes were cool and sharp as she shot back, "Whether he notices me or not is my business. I don't need you worrying about it, and frankly, we're not that close."

The boy's face went from red to pale, then flushed an embarrassed shade of blue. He looked not just hurt, but as if his pride had been ground underfoot—again and again—by her words.

And just like that, the memory cut off, because he'd already turned and walked away.

That girl's image, so vivid back then, overlapped perfectly with Willow's expression now.

It was that same girl who, in the end, used her so-called "skills" to become his wife.

Beasley pulled himself out of the memory, almost laughing at the irony.

All these years had passed, but she hadn't changed a bit. This was the real her, wasn't it? The one who always dodged the truth, afraid he'd see right through her mask.

She was STAR, the bestselling novelist. Her royalties alone brought in millions each year—she wasn't exactly strapped for cash. Yet right after their divorce, she put the house he'd given her up for sale, along with all the jewelry her mother had gifted her over the years. Not a trace of sentimentality.

That was the kind of greedy person she was—never satisfied, always wanting both fame and fortune. What more proof did he need?

Now, she was stringing him along, refusing to spill the name of that other man. It was just another ploy, drawing out the game for a bigger payoff.

Willow watched him in silence, bracing herself for another round of probing questions as Beasley's icy expression shifted. But to her surprise, he stood abruptly, placed the stack of medical reports on the bedside table, and left the room without a word.

She watched him go, only letting out a breath when the door finally clicked shut.

Good riddance. The "Great Judge" had finally left.

No sooner had Beasley gone than the nurse came knocking.

Willow was clearing away the empty dishes from her tray when the nurse hurried over, eager to help. "Miss Sheffield, you should rest—let me handle this."

"Thank you." Willow could only surrender the task.

At the billing desk, she was told she could leave—no payment necessary.

No need to ask; Beasley must have arranged it.

Willow didn't bother arguing. If it weren't for him, she wouldn't have needed to be hospitalized in the first place.

She took a cab straight back to her apartment in Cliffhaven Gardens. The second she opened the door, she was hit by an awful stench.

Her stomach lurched again.

She forced herself to clean up, spraying air freshener until the place was livable.

Luckily, that accidental "exposure therapy" had actually worked—otherwise all that suffering would've been for nothing.