Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 888

The night was thick with darkness, and the sea breeze carried the sharp tang of salt, curling into her bones. At the mouth of the alley, a tall figure appeared without a sound.

Dean stood there, letting the wind hit him so Emmy wouldn’t have to feel it. He watched her, small and shivering, curled up against the chill. If he took just one step closer, he could scoop her up, carry her back to the villa, give her a hot bath, and tuck her into a soft, warm bed.

He lifted his foot, hovered over the filthy ground, but then set it back down. The look in his eyes was a storm of anger and pain, tearing him in two.

“Emmy, is this the freedom you wanted?”

She’d rather sleep next to a pile of trash like a stray than be his caged canary. If that’s what she chose, then she’d have to live with it. Maybe when the pain was too much, she’d finally know how to turn back.

He stood there for what felt like forever. Only when the first pale light crept into the sky did he finally turn away, disappearing into the morning mist.

When daylight came, Emmy woke up with a jolt from the cold. Every bone in her body ached, like she’d been taken apart and put back together wrong. She braced herself against the wall and slowly stood, her vision swimming for a second.

She couldn’t stop. Stopping meant losing. And she refused to lose.

Dragging her feet, she started another day of searching for work. The repair shop was out of the question, so she wandered into the back alleys behind the commercial street. There were a few little workshops that sold handmade crafts.

“String these shell wind chimes, one dollar apiece,” the owner barked, tossing her a pile of sharp shells and some fishing line. The woman’s face was round and stern, making it clear she was in no mood for bargaining.

Emmy didn’t even try. She sat on a low stool, dropped her head, and started threading the line. The shells were razor sharp, and soon thin lines of blood appeared on her fingers, but she barely felt them. All she could think was that each wind chime meant a dollar. Enough for half a loaf of bread.

After an hour, she’d finished three wind chimes. She brought them to the owner. “Miss, I’ve finished three. Can I get paid?”

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