The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 51

It had been a long time since Winona had touched Julian's body.

The moment her skin brushed his, she fought the urge to gag.

She hadn't even realized it herself before, but her revulsion toward him had become physical—so strong, she couldn't hide it. It showed plainly on her face.

Winona was startled by her own reaction.

When had it started? When had she begun to be disgusted by him to this degree?

Was it after years of his cold indifference, the emotional neglect that never seemed to change, day after day?

Or was it when she had personally handed him the divorce papers, only for him to pretend he knew nothing about it, never uttering the word 'divorce'—and, worse, twisting things around, accusing her of refusing to let go, insisting she was clinging to him?

Or maybe it was seeing him, still legally married to her, yet flaunting his relationship with Felicity at every public event, introducing her as his partner, making Winona feel like he was tainted, somehow unclean?

And then, there was today—the way he'd treated her, cold and heartless, here in this hotel.

Maybe it was all of it, layered, one thing after another.

Her reaction left Julian visibly stunned.

Or rather, he was so thrown off, he didn't know how to respond.

He was used to Winona chasing after him, used to her relentless devotion, her unwavering smile no matter how coldly he treated her.

In the past, Winona had cherished every intimate moment with him.

Every time it was over, he would turn away, refusing even to look at her, and she would wrap her arms around him from behind, her voice gentle and soft: "Julian, did I make you feel good? If you didn't like it, we could try something else. As long as you're happy, that's all that matters to me."

She used to crave his touch, used to long to curl up in his arms—now, she recoiled from him.

How was that possible?

But the revulsion wasn't an act; it was deep, unfeigned, and undeniable. Pure, gut-level disgust.

Julian was shaken to his core.

She lifted her gaze, eyes clear and steady. "Aren't you?"

He fell silent.

For a moment, he couldn't help but really look at his wife.

She wasn't wearing the casual clothes she'd had on half an hour before.

Now, she was dressed in a pale ivory silk blouse with a delicate bow at the collar, tucked neatly into a full, black mid-calf skirt. A matching slender belt cinched her waist, and pale beige heels completed the look.

She looked every inch the elegant, sophisticated woman—a vision straight out of a downtown office tower.

Her hair was swept to one side in a loose braid, the end tied with a polka-dotted silk scarf.

The style highlighted her gentle, mature beauty—a perfect blend of urban chic and young motherhood.

She looked like she belonged anywhere but here, with a man she could barely stand to touch.