My Billionaire Ex Beg For A Second Chance-Chapter 195: Not Welcome

Felix adjusted the cuffs of his crisp white shirt as the morning came. He stood in front of the full-length mirror mounted beside the wardrobe, focused on the knot of his navy tie.

His reflection stared back at him, eyes just a little darker from the lack of sleep. It wasn’t the meetings that had kept him tossing under the high-thread-count sheets last night. It was her voice, soft, distant, carefully measured, echoing in his mind.

Katherine.

She’d called late, lunchtime for her, nearly midnight for him. He had picked up instantly, almost instinctively, as if her name on the screen bypassed all thought and protocol. He remembered the way he had leaned on the edge of the desk, heart stuttering slightly. Not in fear, at least, not exactly, but in anticipation.

"I’d like to talk when you’re back."

Even now, the memory played in his head with the sharpness of fresh glass. Her voice hadn’t trembled, but it had been... careful. As though every word had been weighed before she let it slip past her lips.

"Talk about what?" he wondered.

Felix exhaled slowly and resumed tying his tie. He didn’t know what worried him more, that she had waited to speak face-to-face, or that her tone had been so composed.

That wasn’t like Katherine.

He slipped his silver watch onto his wrist and tapped his phone. No messages or new calls. Nothing from her. Still, a smile flickered across his lips.

Maybe she missed him.

Or maybe something was wrong.

Shoving the thought aside, Felix grabbed his jacket and headed out. Downstairs, the lobby was already buzzing with guests and polished staff. A team assistant waved to him, already waiting by the car. The day ahead was full, a board meeting with a tech partner, a rooftop lunch with directors, a press briefing, and a site tour in the afternoon.

But through it all, Katherine remained a quiet hum in the back of his thoughts.

**

The boardroom on the 43rd floor of a gleaming glass tower was sleek and sterile, with high-backed chairs and panoramic views of Marina Bay. Felix sat at the head of the table, flanked by the Singaporean executive team and two translators. He spoke clearly, guiding discussions on product expansion and licensing partnerships, his tone sharp yet diplomatic.

He fielded a tough question from one of the senior partners about projected revenue and timeline pivots, and while he responded with confidence, part of him was remembering the slight hitch in Katherine’s breath. Her pause before she said, "I’d like to talk."

The lunch meeting passed much the same way. He dined at a rooftop garden restaurant shaded by elegant cream umbrellas and trimmed hedges, the table laid with artisanal dishes and glassware that caught the sunlight. He smiled, discussed market share projections, AI collaborations, nodded at clever jokes, but it was all muscle memory.

Inside, he was replaying every little moment that could’ve led to Katherine’s call.

Did Leonard say something?

Did she regret something?

Was she finally going to answer him? About them?

By the time Felix returned to the hotel in the late afternoon, his body felt heavy, his suit clinging just slightly more with each step. The elevator doors closed, and he let out a quiet breath, running his fingers through his hair as the floors blinked past.

In his suite, the air was cool and quiet. He loosened his tie, dropped his briefcase beside the desk, and grabbed a bottle of chilled water from the minibar. The glass window framed the sprawling city below, flashes of traffic, neon lights beginning to flicker on, people moving like clockwork in a city that never slowed down.

He stood there for a long moment, sipping water, resting his forearm on the window frame. From here, he couldn’t see Katherine’s face. Couldn’t hear her voice.

His fingers hovered over his phone again. No messages.

He had half a mind to call her again, to push gently, to ask what was wrong. But no, she wanted to speak in person. And if Katherine was anything, she was firm once her mind was made.

Still, he couldn’t shake the unease curling around the base of his spine.

He glanced at the time. Another hour before dinner with the investor team.

He’d take ten minutes. Just to sit. To think. Maybe even a quick nap, though he knew that was wishful thinking.

Then the doorbell rang.

Felix blinked, startled.

He wasn’t expecting anyone.

He walked slowly toward the door, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve as his mind sorted through possibilities. Room service? No, he hadn’t ordered anything. One of the assistants? They would’ve called.

He leaned slightly toward the peephole.

And froze.

His body went rigid.

Standing there, poised and composed as if she’d been expected, was Lara Johanssen.

Felix stepped back from the door, blinking slowly as a low groan escaped his throat. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, pressing hard enough to leave bursts of color behind his lids.

It had been a long day. Maybe he was imagining things.

Surely it wasn’t Lara. Why would she be standing at his hotel door in Singapore?

Maybe it was a hotel staff member with similar features. A concierge in an unfortunate shade of lipstick. Or maybe one of the cleaning girls.

Felix shook his head, stepped closer again, and leaned back toward the peephole.

His stomach sank.

Still her, Lara Johanssen.

She wore a beige trench coat belted at the waist, white silk peeking beneath it, paired with sleek black heels. Her hair was pinned back in a loose twist, and a shade of red lipstick painted her mouth in a big smile.

His eyes stayed locked on the peephole as if willing the image to disappear. Lara shifted her weight onto one leg, still smiling, but this time with a tinge of impatience curling at the corners of her mouth.

Then, as if on cue, her manicured fingers reached out and pressed the doorbell again.

Felix stepped back from the door, his jaw tightening. He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. Of all people, of all times.

"What the hell is she doing here?!"