Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 120

Beasley glanced at his watch—it was only a little past four in the afternoon.

York's earlier warning echoed in his mind, leaving him with a vague, uncomfortable feeling. It was unfamiliar, fleeting—there and gone before he could even put a name to it.

Irritated, he grabbed his phone and tried messaging Willow again. Still blocked. No luck.

With Willow not home, Beasley saw no reason to go upstairs. He restarted the car and drove off without another thought.

…

For the next several days, he never managed to run into Willow at Cliffhaven Gardens. Pressing her doorbell brought no response, and every evening the apartment stayed dark and silent—clearly, she wasn't home.

The longer this went on, the more Beasley began to wonder if she was about to disappear for another month.

But just a week later, on Friday evening around seven, he spotted lights flickering on in Willow's apartment.

He rushed over, hammering the doorbell like a man possessed.

After about a minute of relentless ringing, the door finally swung open.

His icy eyes immediately fixed on her.

Willow stood there in a cropped white puffer jacket, her skin almost luminous against the fabric, flawless and pale. She wore dark jeans that hugged her long, toned legs, every line smooth and athletic.

A week apart, and her hair seemed even longer—jet-black, nearly brushing her waist.

He remembered how soft her hair was, just like her old temperament, even if it had been an act. But now, though her features were as delicate and striking as ever, the softness was gone. In its place: impatience, and a flicker of disdain.

"What are you doing here again?" Willow's voice was cold, her expression stony.

Inside, Willow double-locked the door, then strode back to her study, all business. She was determined to handle this tomorrow afternoon and end Beasley's meddling in her life for good.

Just knowing he lived across the hall was enough to put her in a foul mood. Hopefully, once this was over, he'd move out immediately.

She worked at her computer for nearly an hour, finally wrapping up her preparations. Stretching lazily, she glanced at the time in the bottom corner of her screen—8:30 p.m.

Next Tuesday, her best friend Juliette would be coming back from abroad. Willow would be at the Research Institute by then—there was no way she could meet Juliette at the airport, and she'd probably be off the grid for a while.

Still, she'd given Juliette a heads-up, so it wouldn't be a problem.

The only headache was Beasley's birthday.

She'd already blocked Windsor Estate's landline, and most of the time that was enough. But she worried that on Beasley's birthday, the old lady might try to call and, not finding her, would start pestering her father instead.