The Ex-Wife He Can’t Have novel Chapter 489

The old building's exterior lacked the sleek, flat surfaces of modern architecture. A narrow ledge, roughly eight inches wide, ran along the perimeter—just enough room to stand on.

The walls were choked with thick ivy. Even in late autumn, the vines were dense, and the occasional insect buzzed out from the leaves.

Jillian climbed out of the window and planted her bare feet on the stone ledge. The surface was freezing and slick with moisture.

She despised bugs, but right now, she couldn't afford to care.

She kept telling herself it was only the second floor. Even if she slipped, a fall wouldn't be fatal.

Gripping the rusted iron bars welded to the facade, she inched her way sideways. After several agonizing minutes, she finally reached the hallway window on the other side.

Because it was an old structure, the windows hadn't been replaced with modern safety glass. It was an old-school sliding pane that opened fully.

Jillian shoved it open and vaulted into the hallway. The moment her feet hit the solid, icy floor tiles, a massive wave of relief washed over her, though her heart was still hammering against her ribs.

During the climb, her tulle dress snagged on the vines and the rusty iron bars. Though the tear wasn't massive, the haute couture gown was essentially ruined.

Jillian winced internally. The dress was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and she was absolutely adding this debt to Sylvia's tab.

Then she realized another problem—her high heels were still sitting on the restroom windowsill.

She was currently standing completely barefoot. There was absolutely no way she was risking her life on that ledge again just for a pair of shoes.

Jillian quickly smoothed out her ruined skirt and walked barefoot down the corridor, heading straight back to the banquet hall.

The heavy double doors were propped wide open. As she walked in, she bumped into a few former classmates and offered a flawless, polite nod.

Across the room, Sylvia was laughing with her group. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jillian sauntering in, and all the blood instantly drained from her face.

Her plan had been foolproof. Lock Jillian in an isolated room, barricade it with a maintenance sign, and either trap her for the entire night or force her to scream for help until she made a humiliating scene.

Never in a million years did she expect Jillian to physically break out and stroll back into the party like nothing happened.

Sylvia’s nails dug into her palms. Panic and hatred tangled in her chest. Jillian was far more dangerous than she had anticipated.

Jillian casually walked over to a waiter's tray, picked up a glass of champagne, and downed it in one go to suppress the raging fire in her gut.

Tonight was the centennial gala, swarming with university executives, billionaires, and government officials. She couldn't afford to lose her temper and create a scene.

Once she steadied her breathing, she walked straight over to Daniel.

Daniel took one look at her and knew instantly something was wrong. He stared at her in shock.

"What is it?" Jillian asked smoothly. "Do I look different?"

"Your dress is torn." Daniel’s gaze swept downward, taking in her disheveled hair and the thin scratches covering her arms. His face darkened instantly. "Did Sylvia do this to you?"

He reached out and gently took her arm, inspecting the cuts.

"I'm fine." Jillian smiled, deciding to make a joke out of it. "How did you not notice I shrunk?"

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