Ex Wife's Collapse After Divorce novel Chapter 63

Chapter 63

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Vivian stared. So is Damian.

Both of them still remembered their clash from not too long ago. They had mistaken Aurora for Ethan’s mistress and made a massive scene in front of her company.

They had nearly fallen to their knees on the spot to apologize, begging Aurora to show mercy and allow

them to survive in the city.

And now Aurora was sitting next to Ethan like she belonged there.

‘How?’ Vivian’s mind raced. ‘He’s Sophie’s kept man. Why is Aurora Sinclair-‘

“Who are these two?” Bianca asked, tilting her head with exaggerated curiosity.

Aurora leaned back in her chair, her arm draped casually over the backrest behind Ethan. She let the silence stretch for a beat, then two, before she spoke.

“This one,” she gestured toward Vivian with an elegant flick of her wrist, “is Ethan’s ex-wife.” A pause. Her gaze slid to Damian. “And that one is her side piece. The male mistress, if you will.”

The words landed like a slap.

Damian lurched forward. “That’s not-we’re just friends! Pure friendship. There’s nothing between us-”

Bianca’s eyes swept over him, head to toe, slow and merciless. She took in the average height, the narrow shoulders, the unremarkable face flushed with embarrassment.

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“This?” She looked back at Vivian, genuine bewilderment in her voice. “You divorced Ethan Carter for this? “She gestured at Damian like she was pointing out a stain on the carpet. “No height. No build. No face worth remembering.”

She clicked her tongue. “Honey, you didn’t just lose-you downgraded to bargain bin.”

Damian’s face turned crimson. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles bone-white. Every muscle in his jaw screamed with the effort of not exploding.

But Aurora was watching from right beside him. Would he really dare to lose his composure in front of

her?

He swallowed his rage like broken glass.

“What’s going on here?”

A man in a tailored charcoal suit appeared-the club manager, drawn by the commotion. His expression shifted the instant he recognized Bianca. The professional neutrality melted into something far more accommodating.

“Miss Donovan!” He clasped his hands together. “What an honor. Is everything alright? Can I be of any

assistance?”

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Bianca didn’t look at him. Her eyes were still on Damian. “Get this man out of here,” she said. “He’s dragging down the atmosphere of my establishment.”

The manager hesitated for exactly one second. “Ma’am, if the gentleman is a member-”

“I’m a member!” Damian yanked his membership card from his robe pocket, holding it up like a shield.” Gold tier! You can’t just-”

“Cancel it.” Bianca’s voice was flat and final. “Whatever refund or penalty that triggers, put it on my tab. I

don’t want to see his face in here again.”

The manager straightened. “Understood, Miss Donovan. Immediately.”

He snapped his fingers. Two security guards materialized from the corridor-both over six feet, both built like refrigerators.

“Sir.” The taller one placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. Not gently. “Please come with us.”

“Get your hands off me-!” Damian twisted, but the second guard had already gripped his other arm. His feet barely touched the ground as they steered him toward the exit, his protests echoing off the marble walls until the heavy doors swung shut behind him.

Silence.

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