Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 113

Emmy finished her shopping and headed straight back to her apartment.

She found Ivy cleaning in the living room. “Ivy, can you make a couple extra dishes for dinner tonight?” Emmy called out as she set her bags down.

She hesitated, then added, “Let’s do braised pork belly and some sweet-and-sour ribs.”

They were James’s favorites.

Emmy opened her phone and tapped on James’s chat.

I asked Ivy to make your favorite dishes tonight. Are you coming home for dinner?

She watched the message send, but, as always, there was nothing. Not even a read receipt. It was like throwing a message into the void.

Emmy pressed her lips together and went to her bedroom. She pulled open her vanity drawer and found the crystal bracelet. The beads were cool against her skin, and for a second, Emmy remembered the heat of James’s hand when he held her.

She lifted her wrist under the lamp, angling it until the crystals caught the light just right, and snapped a picture.

The photo was beautiful—her pale skin and the sparkling bracelet, the kind of shot that almost took your breath away.

She sent the picture to James.

Wearing it now.

Still nothing. Not a single word.

Annoyed, Emmy ran her fingers through her hair. She took a screenshot of the silent chat and sent it to Abriella.

He’s still mad at me. How do I fix this? I need advice—ASAP!

Abriella replied instantly with a dramatic eye-roll emoji.

Girl, what’s the point of sending it just to him?

Post it on your socials! Show it off!

Abriella sent a string of voice messages, her tone exasperated and just a little bit savage.

Even after coming back, she’d forgotten about all that.

“So pathetic,” Emmy muttered, staring at her younger, love-crazed self on the screen. She couldn’t look at it anymore.

She went into her study and opened her laptop. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she wrote a simple little program. She ran it.

The progress bar zipped across the screen—10 percent, 50 percent, 100 percent.

All posts deleted.

The notification popped up. It had barely taken three minutes.

She’d spent seven years—since she was fifteen—building that shrine to Dean.

And just like that, three minutes and a few lines of code, it was gone.

Finally, she could breathe. The past was wiped clean.