Stripping For My Devil Ex Husband

"We... we haven’t thought that far ahead, Victoria," Ana said quietly, her voice laced with careful restraint. She didn’t want to plant false hope in the woman’s heart, nor did she want to allow herself to believe in a happily-ever-after built on an unfinished contract. "There’s so much danger circling Northwood right now. Between Dante Sullivan, my father, and the syndicate... survival is our only priority."

​Ana tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her hazel eyes meeting Victoria’s with quiet, solemn honesty.

​"We aren’t planning for anything like that right now," Ana continued softly, a faint, fragile smile touching her lips. "I think... once all of this chaos finally ends, and the dust settles... only then can we even begin to see if a future together is truly a possibility."

​Victoria looked at her closely, her sharp, perceptive eyes catching the subtle hesitation and guarded pain in the younger woman’s demeanor. The matriarch didn’t push or prod; instead, she gave a slow, understanding nod, her expression turning unusually gentle.

​"Fair enough, Anastasia," Victoria murmured softly, lifting her cup once more. "Just make sure my son remembers that... when the time comes."

_________________________

The morning sun illuminated the grand dining room of Northwood, casting sharp golden beams across the polished mahogany table set with crystal, silver, and fresh coffee.

​Damian walked in with measured, deliberate strides. Dressed in a tailored charcoal button-down that concealed his bandages, his posture was imposing, his lethal authority fully restored.

Without a word, he pulled out the chair directly beside Anastasia, settling into the seat with an ease that radiated unyielding possession. His hand found the curve of her waist under the table for a brief, electric second, his thumb brushing against her hip before he poured himself a cup of black coffee.

​Moments later, Jullian and Clara entered the room, trailing an icy chill in their wake.

​Clara sat directly opposite Ana, her emerald eyes guarded and entirely focused on her tablet. She pointedly avoided looking at Jullian, treating him like an invisible piece of furniture. Jullian, impeccably dressed in a tailored vest and rolled-up sleeves, took the seat beside her.

The easy, flirtatious charm he usually wore was replaced by a cool, sharp aloofness, his jaw set in rigid lines after her brutal rejection in the library.

​"Sleep well, Clara?" Jullian asked smoothly, lifting his cup without glancing her way. "Or did your excessive self-reliance keep you up?"

​"I slept brilliantly, Mr. Montgomery," Clara replied with a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Peace of mind comes naturally when you don’t waste time on irrelevant distractions."

​Across the table, Ana caught Clara’s eye, sensing the raw, electric friction between them, while Damian merely took a slow sip of his coffee, entirely unbothered by their verbal sparring.

​Before Clara could deliver another cutting remark, Jullian’s encrypted satellite phone vibrated violently against the polished wood.

​Jullian glanced down at the flashing caller ID. The mocking detachment vanished instantly from his face, replaced by a dark, alert tension.

​"Excuse me," Jullian muttered, rising from the table and tapping the screen as he stepped toward the tall French doors leading to the terrace. "Father."

​Even from across the room, the furious, booming voice of Lord Montgomery bled through the encrypted speaker, sharp and demanding.

​"What the hell have you dragged our family into, Jullian?"

His father barked, his aristocratic composure entirely shattered.

"Four major Sullivan Global subsidiaries just initiated a hostile short against our European maritime holdings thirty minutes ago. Dante Sullivan personally requested an emergency inquiry into our private logistics lines! He’s breathing down our necks, and I have no idea why. Did you cross the Sullivans, or have you lost your mind entirely?"

​The entire dining room went dead silent. Clara’s fingers froze over her tablet, her gaze snapping toward Jullian’s back.

​Jullian’s hazel eyes narrowed into cold, lethal slits as he stared out across the misty estate grounds, his knuckles turning white around the phone.

​"Dante is fishing in our waters, Father," Jullian replied, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous rasp that masked the storm underneath. "Let him cast his lines. He won’t like what he pulls out."

Jullian ended the call with a deliberate tap of his thumb, cutting off the furious tirade of his father before it could echo further through the glass.

​He stood in front of the tall terrace doors for two measured breaths, straightening the cuffs of his shirt until not a single wrinkle showed.

When he turned back toward the table, the sharp tension on his face had been smoothed over with practiced, aristocratic nonchalance.

​"Family," Jullian drawled lightly, pulling his chair out and settling back down. He lifted his cup, downing the dark espresso in one clean, unhurried swallow. "Always so dramatic before nine in the morning."

​Damian didn’t touch his coffee. His obsidian eyes narrowed slightly, fixing on his friend with cold, absolute clarity. "Dante went after the European lines?"

​"A few container hubs in Rotterdam and Hamburg," Jullian replied smoothly, tossing his napkin onto the table with an effortless flick of his wrist. "Standard corporate intimidation. Father thinks the sky is falling because a few share prices dipped three points. It’s nothing I can’t handle with a couple of wire transfers by noon."

​Across the table, Clara sat completely rigid.

​Her fingers were still pressed against the glass screen of her tablet, but her focus was entirely shattered. She knew the Montgomery empire’s European logistics network wasn’t just ’a few hubs’... it was the foundational backbone of Jullian’s family fortune.

And Dante Sullivan hadn’t struck it out of random corporate malice; he had targeted the Montgomerys because Jullian had personally backed Damian at the docks and extracted her from Sullivan’s decoy.

​The realization settled in Clara’s throat like lead.

​"Jullian," Clara began, her voice tight as she tried to force her usual sharp, analytical composure over the sudden panic in her chest. "Sullivan Global doesn’t issue hostile shorts unless they already have regulatory leverage. If your father’s board panics, they could strip your executive oversight within forty-eight hours. You need to pull your security details back from our operations and focus on your own..."

​"I don’t recall asking for your corporate consultation, Clara," Jullian cut in, his voice impeccably polite and devastatingly cold.

​He didn’t look at her. He didn’t offer his usual teasing grin or an arrogant wink. He simply stood up from the table, buttoning his tailored vest with steady, elegant precision.

​"My family’s assets are my concern," Jullian continued, his hazel eyes distant as his gaze drifted past her toward the hallway. "Just as your safety and your self-reliance are entirely yours. Let’s not blur the lines you drew so clearly in the library last night."

​Clara’s lips parted, the sharp rebuke dying on her tongue as a cold, unfamiliar ache tightened behind her ribs.

​Without another word, Jullian nodded faintly to Damian and Ana. "Excuse me. I have a few transatlantic calls to make."

​He turned and strode out of the dining room, his footsteps fading down the marble corridor and leaving a suffocating, heavy silence in his wake.

Clara stared down at her untouched coffee, her hands trembling faintly against the edge of the mahogany table, utterly shaken by the realization that Jullian’s empire was burning... and the match had been struck to protect her.

The heavy dining room doors clicked shut behind Jullian, leaving the room blanketed in a suffocating stillness.

​Damian set his coffee cup down with a sharp clink that cut through the silence. His obsidian eyes narrowed, cold and calculating, the fatigue from his bullet wounds completely buried beneath his lethal authority.

​"Walter," Damian commanded without raising his voice, his tone pure steel.

​The estate manager stepped out of the shadow of the corridor instantly. "Yes, Master Damian?"

​"Unlock the primary offshore reserves in Zurich and Singapore," Damian ordered, leaning back with effortless dominance. "Dante wants to play market games with the Montgomery shipping lines? Buy up every dumped share on the European index. Match their short dollar for dollar and absorb the float through Sterling Holdings. No one bleeds on my front line without retribution."

​He turned his dark gaze onto Clara, whose knuckles were still white against the mahogany table.

​"Clara," Damian’s voice brooked no hesitation. "You built the Sterling financial architecture before the merger. You know where Vivian Stark’s father Harrison Stark’s proxy accounts route their liquidity. I want every single vulnerability on my desk before noon. We choke Stark’s capital flow at the source. To help Julian and to also destroy what little left of the Starks."

​"Understood," Clara managed to say, her throat tight.

​Damian gave a single nod, rising from the head of the table. He paused beside Ana, his large, calloused hand resting gently against the nape of her neck for a lingering, grounding second before he strode toward the downstairs command room with Walter in tow.

________________________

​The moment the doors closed behind Damian, the rigid composure Clara had held onto for hours began to crack.

​Ana leaned across the table, her hazel eyes soft with concern, and gently covered Clara’s trembling hand. "Clara... talk to me."

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