Dear Ex-Wife, You Are MINE!

Dear Ex-Wife, You Are MINE! Chapter 8

Dear Ex-Wife, You Are MINE! Sha has a Date!

ALESSANDRO’S POV

The limousine stopped in front of one of the old convention halls in London. Stepping out of the car, I stood straight. Camilla slipped out after me and latched onto my arm. I held back a growl of frustration, wishing it was just beside me instead.

It felt as though things were so out of control. But I would find a way to make it right soon. I just had to get through that night, and everything would be fine. With long strides, I headed for the entrance.

“Why are you in a rush, Al?” Camilla asked, sounding all too innocent, making me wonder how I hadn’t seen through her before.

“Just follow me silently if you don’t want to go back home,” I said, coldly, keeping my eyes on the entrance.

I didn’t hear any words from her, just a faded disappointed grunt.

After checking in, we went inside to our table in the VIP section. As I turned to take my seat, I stopped short. Victoria was there in a red party dress with her shoulder-length hair combed back and bright red lips that matched her dress. She looked stunning.

Then I noticed others staring at her ravishing beauty, and my blood boiled, not wanting them to eye my wife like that.

to business parties as my companion. Had she known I was coming? Did she know I was watching her? No. Her movements gave me no indication that

wished she’d see me and sit

thought of someone else with her both frustrated

my arm tightly. “This event is too low-class. How can someone like her be allowed in? I don’t think you make the right choice to

sour mood turned even more sour. She had no shame. Worse, she’d spoken too loudly, drawing the attention of others. Victoria

any reaction? She’d remained calm,

so much

and asked, “Is there something

Every fucking thing is wrong!” Camia shouted, drawing even more attention. She pointed at Victoria, “How can that type of person get a VIP

woman. But I owed her a debt, so I had to mind my manners and

him. He lowered his head toward me and apologized. “I’m sorry, Mr. Devonte. The seats are arranged by the organizer,

in understanding, but Camilla snapped her fingers at him, glaring. “Hey, I’m the one talking to you, and you’re apologizing to him? Why not address me?” Her tone grew louder with each word. “How dare you disrespect