His Ex Wife Is A Billionaire

Chapter 487

In the wee hours of the morning, a sleek red sports car pulled off a stunning fishtail maneuver before coming to a halt in front of a nightclub.

Elsie gracefully unfolded her toned legs from the low car, stepping out into the night. She was dressed to kill in a form–fitting black mermaid gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her crystal–studded stilettos sparkled under the moonlight, their sharp heels like daggers poised above the hearts of men.

“Ms. Archer. He’s still inside. I’ve had my eyes glued,” one of her subordinates stepped out of the shadows.

With a gaze as cold as the moon, Elsie lifted her delicate left hand to skillfully twist her raven hair into an elegant updo, securing it casually with a silver hairpin adorned with a crimson ruby.

Her movements were fluid poetry, leaving her subordinate utterly entranced.

“Stay on the lookout and be ready for cleanup duty.”

Inside the nightclub, shadows and light danced together, creating an atmosphere of mysterious allure.

Elsie clenched her jaw, weaving through the crowd lost in revelry, her eyes fixed on her target seated at the edge of the bar – Elvis. With each step closer, her heartbeat intensified, the surrounding noise fading into oblivion as if she were stepping into a dream.

Elsie readjusted her sultry hair, preparing for the night’s climax. Undoubtedly, she would use her favorite hairpin to strike decisively. Moments later, Elsie was behind Elvis, her soft hand nearly on his shoulder when suddenly, her wrist throbbed with pain, and the world spun!

“Ah!”

The next second, Elsie’s back slammed against a table, the pain so intense she gasped for air.

His reflexes were not of this world – they belonged to a devil! Elvis’s rough right hand imprisoned her delicate wrist, his left brutally squeezing her neck, his grip tightening relentlessly.

Over these years, as a top–tire secret agent, while executing the mission overseas, he occasionally would undergo assassination organized by his enemy Years of having been in dire straits had honed his senses to the extreme; even the slightest rustle could not escape his vigilance!

Now, with Elsie pinned beneath him, the suffocating pressure turned her face crimson, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

“Is it you?”

Elvis loosened his grip, startled by the recognition.

Elsie gasped for breath, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably. Onlookers whispered among themselves, mistaking the scene for a domestic dispute, too wary to intervene.

“Dude looks sharp, but man, is he trashy, domestic violence in public?!”

“Better mind our own business; they seem like they’re into it. Let’s just bail.”

Elvis’s face darkened at the murmurs.

“You hurt me,” Elsie struggled to rise, her back pain rendering her unable to straighten up.

“My apologies, occupational hazard,” Elvis’s long arm hooked around her waist and hoisted her up in one swift motion.

to hold me like

her exquisite face, his heart quivering. The resemblance to his sister was uncanny. If she dressed in the

a smirk as he

fluttered at his smile, Her voice trembling, “But there’s always a hierarchy, levels

hesitation, he replied, “Of course, my

or overly fond of his

are you doing here?” Elvis narrowed his deep eyes, “You are not looking for me,

firm chest, her voice nonchalant, “Mister, you must believe

an eyebrow, “Oh,

Elsie’s hand wound around his black tie, her body pressing against

gaze deepened, his penetrating eyes making her heart race, yet she managed to maintain her

X–rays, lie detectors. But in that moment, he felt a hint of

you plan to repay me, huh?” Elvis let

flushing with shy excitement, “Whatever you

shifted

that Elvis’s idea of repayment was to

drinks three shots. Ms. Archer, do you dare to play?” Elvis rested his chin on his hand, carefully placing the last block

the man, the sudden game

harmful for a lady to drink spirits, so let’s say one shot for you, three for me,” Elvis’s eyes glinted like amber sunken

steeling her nerves,

The game began.

Ashbourne children, and Jenga was a favorite from his childhood, often played with

the foreign agency headquarters, he would sit in a corner, playing with these

downing four shots of burning liquor that set her stomach ablaze. Sweat beaded on Elsie’s forehead, the fiery alcohol causing her stomach

deemed worthless. She had immersed herself in a world of revelry

seemingly radiant, was riddled with scars beneath the

3

you’ve lost again,” Elvis teased her, shaking

glass to the brim. As she was about to lift her glass, Elvis leaned in, his large hand covering the rim, “If you can’t drink anymore, just let it be.

A bet’s a bet, and I’m not one to back

and with a flushed face, downed the drink in one swift motion.

mouth turned up in a subtle smirk. This woman, stubborn and unyielding, had

next three rounds, Elvis intentionally lost to her. Perhaps it was his foul mood, but Elvis, the one who was usually alcohol tolerable, seemed a bit drunk.

I won

in victory, had a face flushed with the innocent joy of a young girl. Elvis watched her without blinking, feeling

younger sister, Evadne, who would run around in glee after finally beating

days, always protected by us. Unlike now, having experienced the cruelties of human nature and the bitterness

it’s your

beat. She saw a tear glisten in the

won. That’s nice.”

raised his eyes, touching his glass to hers, “I wish you could always win.”

drained his glass, the liquid trailing down

such words before. Always, others demanded, controlled, commanded her. No one had ever said to her, ‘I hope you can win. I hope your