How To Lose Your Billionaire Alpha Husband In 365 Days (Or Less)!-Chapter 99: Goodbye...

The street was quiet when Alex pulled into the driveway. The air buzzed with distant city noise and the familiar drone of street lamps flickering above. His knuckles were scuffed, his lip split, and he still had the dull hum of a fight pulsing through his body.

He didn’t remember the drive. Barely remembered getting in the car.

All he knew was that his hands were shaking.

The key fumbled against the lock.

Alex cursed under his breath, bracing one hand against the doorframe to steady himself. The whiskey had crawled up his spine and settled behind his eyes.

His jaw ached from the bar fight, and the ringing in his ears hadn’t quite stopped.

He finally managed to open the door and stumbled into the apartment.

He stepped inside, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the nearest chair. The place smelled faintly of cedarwood and cologne. Familiar. Grounding.

He collapsed onto the couch, head dropping into his hands.

His phone buzzed.

Then again.

Then a knock at the door.

Alex frowned. "Already?"

He stood, still dizzy from the whiskey, and moved toward the door with slow, unsteady steps. He glanced through the peephole and froze.

Not Ava.

Isabella.

He opened the door but didn’t move aside. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You texted me," she said simply, stepping past him without waiting for permission.

"I didn’t—" He pulled out his phone, blinking at the last message sent.

Wrong name.

Wrong number.

"Shit," he muttered.

Isabella turned, her heels echoing across the hardwood floor. "You sound disappointed."

"I thought you were someone else."

She smiled coolly. "I figured."

"I’m not in the mood for games tonight, Isabella."

"Oh?" She looked around. "Because it looks like you’ve been playing quite a few lately. Starting with which side you’re on."

He didn’t answer. Just walked past her and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. His hands were still shaking when he twisted the cap off.

"Rough night?" she asked.

"I don’t want to talk."

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "So talk to me about something else."

He turned. "Why are you really here?"

"Because you asked me to come," she said smoothly.

Alex narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit." He backed up. "This isn’t a good time, Isabella."

She arched a brow. "Really? Because you look like you’ve been hit by a truck, and judging by the smell, you’ve washed it down with at least two fingers too many."

"I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding."

"It’s not mine."

She moved past him into the apartment, shedding her coat and draping it over the back of the chair. Her hips swayed in a deliberate and confident manner.

"Where’s your ice pack?" she asked, heading to the freezer.

He didn’t answer.

She grabbed the ice, wrapped it in a towel, and tossed it to him. He caught it reflexively, annoyed at how easy it still was to fall into rhythm with her.

"Why are you really here?" he asked, voice tight.

Isabella leaned back against the counter, arms crossed under her chest. "Maybe I was curious."

"About what?"

"About what kind of woman makes Alex Ramos drunk-text his ex at midnight."

He narrowed his eyes. "You’re not my ex."

She smirked. "That’s generous of you."

He tossed the ice pack onto the table. "Look, I’m tired. I’ve had a long night—"

"So have I," she cut in. "I’ve been hearing rumours about you meeting the Godmother and hesitating, giving her time to escape. Care to explain that?"

Alex’s stomach flipped; he didn’t respond.

"I thought I’d come to you, at least hear directly from you," she added, her voice lower now. "Before this becomes a dent in your reputation and street credibility."

"I’m not concerned about that."

Isabella stepped toward him. "Then what concerns you, Alex? A rogue cop playing God between syndicates? A man with a badge and a heart too soft for the war he’s in?"

"I’m trying to find the truth."

She laughed, quiet and bitter. "There is no truth. There’s only who buries it first."

He looked away.

She moved closer again, slow, deliberate. Her hands rested on his chest. "But I’m still here. Still on your side."

"No," he said quietly. "You’re on your own side. Always have been."

"And yet... I always find my way back to you."

She leaned in.

Alex didn’t move. His head spun, not from the alcohol, but from her scent, her voice, the history crawling through the space between them like a living thing.

"Tell me you don’t want me here," she whispered, her breath hot against his jaw. "Tell me you’d rather be alone."

Isabella knelt in front of him, hands on his knees. "You think she’s going to choose you? When this all falls apart? You think you’re her fairytale ending?"

"I think," Alex said quietly, "you should leave."

Her jaw twitched. "You’re still drunk."

"Doesn’t change anything."

She rose, slowly. "No. It doesn’t."

She leaned in, face inches from his. Her voice lowered. "But you called me, Alex. Not her."

"It was a mistake."

"And yet..." she whispered, brushing her fingers down the side of his face, just under his cut lip. "You didn’t stop me."

He stood abruptly, stepping back. "Don’t do this."

"Do what?" she asked, stalking him now. "Remind you that I’m the one who’s been at your side since the start? That I know what you are, what you’ve done, and I never once flinched?"

He swallowed. "This isn’t about loyalty."

"No," she said. "This is about need."

She reached out, grabbing his wrist, pulling him back toward her.

"I know you’re tired, Alex," she said softly. "Tired of pretending. Tired of lying to her. Of hiding. Of feeling like the walls are closing in."

He didn’t say anything.

"I know what that does to a man," she said, even softer now, her lips near his ear. "Let me take it off your shoulders. Just for a night."

He turned his head just a bit. "Isabella—"

But before he could finish, she leaned in and kissed him.

It was an intense kiss, full of longing and passion, serving as both a challenge and a comfort rolled into one.

His hands went to her waist, not pulling her closer, but not pushing her away either.

For a breath, he let it happen.

And then, he pulled back hard.

"I can’t," he said in a rough voice.

Her breath was quick, cheeks flushed. "You didn’t stop."

"I did now."

"You wanted it."

"I want peace," he said. "And this isn’t it."

"Come on, Alex. Just indulge, even if it’s just for one night."

"This is a bad idea," he murmured.

She smiled against his skin. "You’ve never been afraid of those."

He turned just enough for their lips to touch. 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝙬𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝒎

It felt like a mistake, one driven by confusion, exhaustion, and pain. But mistakes don’t wait for your permission to happen before they occur.

She kissed him hard, and he didn’t pull away. Her fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him closer as he lost himself in the taste of something familiar and dangerous.

He broke the kiss a second later, chest heaving. "This isn’t what I want."

"Then stop," she said sharply. "If this isn’t what you want, walk away."

Alex swallowed hard.

Isabella stepped back just far enough to start peeling off her dress slowly, letting each motion linger as her gaze locked with his.

The fabric slipped off her shoulders, puddling at her feet, leaving her in a black lace bra and matching panties. Her skin glowed softly in the low light of the apartment.

His eyes roamed her form, and he felt the rush of a thousand memories flooding back. Moments wrapped in adrenaline, betrayal, blurred lines, blood on their hands, kisses behind closed doors in cities neither of them remembered.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She stepped closer again, slowly sinking to her knees in front of him. The motion was calculated, sultry, and unashamed. Her fingers reached for his belt.

"Isabella—" Alex’s heart thudded against his ribs. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he shifted in his seat. "What are you doing?" he asked in a rough, uncertain voice.

Her hands reached for his belt. She looked up at him, voice low but clear. "Exactly what you need."

His eyes roamed her form, and he felt the rush of a thousand memories flooding back. Moments wrapped in adrenaline, betrayal, blurred lines, blood on their hands, kisses behind closed doors in cities neither of them remembered.

She didn’t say anything at first.

She stepped closer again, slowly sinking to her knees in front of him. The motion was calculated, sultry, and unashamed. Her fingers reached for his belt.

"Isabella—" Alex’s heart thudded against his ribs. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he shifted in his seat. "What are you doing?" he asked in a rough, uncertain voice.

Her hands reached for his belt. She looked up at him, voice low but clear. "Exactly what you need."