His Ex Wife Is A Billionaire

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!”

his CEO position sent a surge of rage through

Get the hell out, all of ya!” he

one of his lackeys sidled up. “Mr. Chambers, did those dames

Velvet Haven? More like The Velvet Hell,” Matthew grumbled, loosening his tie

is the manager herself. Heard she’s a sight that would make your

glint sparked in Matthew’s eyes. “Oh?”

ghost, only gracing the V–level clients with her presence. But a buddy of mine caught a glimpse. Damn, she’s a siren!

his tie

her serve you, it’d be like having Evadne herself. You’d feel

erupted around

the joke turned Matthew’s face sour, even quelling his lust. Look

a wicked idea took root. If he couldn’t have Evadne, why not play with her lookalike and vent

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 of sensuality and finesse It was the image she had to maintain as the proprietor of the Velvet

red wine, Elsie entered the room filled with surveillance monitors, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.

employees stood at attention. “Ms. Archer!”

Elsie inquired,

his crew to

“Ms. Archer, considering the beef between Matthew

well. Grudges don’t pay the bills,” Elsie

grinned in

pay a large sum

survey the monitors, her 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

screens caught her eye. Elvis. His presence was like

how did he get in? What was he up

Take a break, I’ve prepared some food in the lounge. I’ll

you, Ms. Archer! You’re

footage of Elvis and began to

Elvis‘ strikingly handsome features on the screen assaulted her trembling pupils. His piercing eyes, cool

no time for admiration; she hit

was wiped from the surveillance

skills, had underestimated Avery’s obsession and seriously overlooked

privacy was just a ruse to pacify the

nook and cranny–behind mirrors, nestled in flower pots. Even a

a full–grown man.

so distractingly good–looking.

determined stride, unfazed by the possibility of being

in, he was confident he could get

gun, had it coming, and Elvis couldn’t

black trench coat as he made his way to Matthew’s

a pair of delicate hands clutched his arm, pulling him into the

darkened, muscles tensing for a fight.

storage shelves forced their bodies

he finally saw her face.