Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 318

Beasley’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled to speak, the words catching in his throat.

He remembered that day all too well—the day he’d run into Willow at a French bistro. He’d jumped to the wrong conclusion, thinking she was on a date with Lionel Scott, and a wild surge of jealousy had flared up inside him. Without caring about the scene they were making, he’d dragged Willow out of the restaurant, bundled her into his car, and—unable to stop himself—pulled her into a kiss.

All he’d meant to do was punish her for her stubbornness. But the very moment his lips touched hers, she’d fainted dead away.

And when she finally came to, she had no memory of what had happened—no recollection at all of their stolen kiss.

Now, Beasley was caught somewhere between regret and frustration. He regretted how reckless he’d been, but what stung even more was that she’d forgotten everything—their first kiss meant nothing to her at all.

“You seem afraid of me,” he said at last, keeping his voice low. “You flinch whenever I get close.”

But in the end, Beasley couldn’t bring himself to confess that he’d forced that kiss on her. If she’d chosen to forget it, there was no point dredging up such an unpleasant memory.

“That time my mom collapsed and had to be hospitalized—remember? We bumped into each other in the hallway. When I steadied you by the shoulders, you were shaking. And then you… you threw up. I thought you were just having morning sickness, and that was all. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much I’d misjudged you, or what my coldness during our three years of marriage had done to you.”

Willow said nothing. Only Beasley’s soft confession filled the silence.

“Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper on the other end of the line.

Willow sat in the backseat of the car, listening with a blank expression, her heart as still as a frozen lake—no ripples, no waves.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” she replied, her tone utterly flat.

Beasley’s heart leapt. He rushed to answer, “Anything you want. Whatever it takes!”

“First,” Willow began quietly, “marry Rosamund as soon as possible and make it public. That’ll finally shut up your grandmother and cousin. I’m tired of being the target of their petty rumors, like I’m desperate to get back together with you.”

His grandmother had made her feelings perfectly clear the other day—she wanted Willow gone, out of his life. All because she was afraid Willow might want a reconciliation? Reconcile? What a joke. Who did they think they were humiliating?

“That investment was because I believed in your novel. It wasn’t for her,” Beasley insisted.

“Really?” Willow let out a short, humorless laugh. “So casting her as the lead was someone else’s idea too, I suppose?”

She’d seen enough of businessmen and their slippery ways. Only someone like Beasley could claim black was white with a straight face.

He thought she’d be moved by his words? Please.

“It wasn’t my idea,” Beasley answered at last, his voice suddenly tired. “It was York Sinclair’s suggestion.”

He felt a wave of regret welling up inside him. He never should have offered Sudden Dawn to York just to help out his friend and give Rosamund a break. He’d known full well—whoever starred in that film would become a sensation.

He’d just wanted to give a friend a leg up, that was all. In the end, all he’d managed was to shoot himself in the foot.