His Ex Wife Is A Billionaire

Chapter 669

Chapter 669

It was the witching hour at the Velvet Haven, and the two bouncers stationed at the entrance were struggling to keep their eyelids from waging war against each other. They were eagerly anticipating the moment they could clock out and head home.

But then came a rustling sound that cut through the stillness of the night.

One bouncer, yawning and stretching, froze. “Hey, you hear that? Sounds like something’s stirring.”

The other, whose mind was already half into his pillow, mumbled, “Stirring? Nah, it’s dead quiet.”

“No, for real, listen, it’s like something’s scraping against the wall!”

The second bouncer’s skin crawled at the thought. “Man, don’t freak me out. This plot used to be an old graveyard. You try to give me nightmares?”

“I’m gonna check it out. You stay put,” the first bouncer said, grabbing a flashlight and rounding the corner to the back of the club:

His light danced across the walls, eventually angling upwards.

And there, just as the harsh beam missed him by an inch, stood Elvis, casually leaning against the window ledge on the fifth floor, hands nonchalantly tucked into his pockets. Below him, the city sprawled out, unaware of his silent judgment.

The bouncer saw nothing amiss and wandered off, scratching his head in confusion.

“Blind as a bat,” Elvis muttered under his breath, his eyes glittering with malice. In a swift motion, a slender glass cutter appeared between his fingers, and within moments, he had carved a neat hole in the window and slipped inside like a shadow.

Meanwhile, inside the club’s most exclusive VIP lounge, where the minimum spend had more zeros than most people saw in a year, Matthew was living it up with his entourage. Women clung to him like bees to honey, but he wasn’t satisfied. He beckoned a bombshell with curves in all the right places to straddle his lap and feed him shots, lip to lip.

“Hey! That’s what I’m talking ‘bout! Mr. Chambers, born with a silver spoon! Just a temporary slump, man, you’re destined for the top!”

“Spot on! And that Avery guy? A mutt who got lucky, thinks he can run with the big dogs now. Mr. Chambers, you gotta make him regret crossing you. Make him spit out whatever he took from you!”

sent a surge of rage through Matthew, and he

Get the hell out, all

up. “Mr. Chambers,

Velvet Haven? More like The Velvet Hell,” Matthew

herself. Heard she’s a sight that

in Matthew’s

buddy of mine caught a glimpse. Damn, she’s a siren!

bobbed, his hand strayed to his tie again as another part

Evadne! Imagine having her serve you, it’d be

around the

Matthew’s face sour, even quelling

idea took root. If he couldn’t have Evadne, why not

“Bring the Velvet Hayen’s manager here, tell her to join me for a drink.” Tonight, Elsie, even without a single patron to entertain, was the epitome of allure from her shimmering tresses down to her stiletto heels. Clad in a figure–hugging, lilac silk gown that bared her sculpted back, she was the embodiment

Elsie entered the room filled

employees stood at attention.

Elsie inquired, sipping

good. Mr. Avery brought his crew to VIP

subordinate hesitated, “Ms. Archer, considering the beef between Matthew and Mr. Avery, shouldn’t we?”

Grudges don’t pay the bills,” Elsie retorted with a curl of

grinned in

to make Matthew pay a large

eyes sharp and discerning. Avery had trained her well since her youth, and surveillance was just one of her many skills. Where others saw a dizzying array of screens, she could spot an anomaly

the screens caught her eye. Elvis. His

did he get in?

“You’ve been watching all night. Take a break, I’ve prepared some food in the lounge. I’ll keep an

Archer!

up the footage of Elvis and began to plot her next move.

strikingly handsome features on the screen assaulted her trembling

was no time for

wiped from

secret agent with top–tier counter–surveillance skills, had underestimated Avery’s obsession and seriously overlooked the Velvet

a ruse to pacify the

nestled in flower

alone a full–grown man.

so distractingly good–looking.

a cool, determined stride,

he could get in, he was confident he could get out.

even. Matthew, that son of a gun, had it coming, and

of his black trench coat as he made his way to Matthew’s private booth.

his arm,

muscles tensing for a fight.

storage shelves forced

met, he finally

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