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Bought by My Billionaire Ex / Chapter 2: The Transfer That Broke the Internet
Bought by My Billionaire Ex

Bought by My Billionaire Ex

Author: Susan Rodriguez


Chapter 2: The Transfer That Broke the Internet

**2**

I couldn’t be bothered with her, just gave a perfunctory smile.

Then, with tens of thousands watching online and in the studio, I forced myself to dial.

The persistent busy tone echoed through the studio.

An awkward silence spread.

Finally, the call connected.

No one spoke on the other end.

With the speaker volume cranked, only steady breathing and faint background chatter could be heard.

My throat was dry, so I tried some polite small talk.

"Are you in a meeting?"

Nick Warren: "Yeah."

He was stingy with words, emotionless.

"Is it convenient to talk?"

Nick Warren: "Yeah."

Yeah yeah yeah—yeah your damn yeah.

All these years after breaking up, and you’ve turned into a monosyllabic caveman?

The guests all looked at me, curious.

Zoe even blinked at me with fake sympathy.

Damn, just let this farce end already...

"Um, I wanted to borrow five hundred dollars from you."

"If you don’t want to, that’s fine."

Even without video, I could feel him pause. Then a low laugh slipped out.

"You’ve got some nerve."

His tone dipped, like an early spring creek before the ice has melted—cool, with a hint of chill.

Sure enough, the next second: beep beep beep beep—

He hung up. Clean and swift.

Come on, man.

All the downtown office buildings are yours, but you won’t even lend your ex five hundred? Stingy much.

I let out a couple awkward laughs under everyone’s stare.

"Sorry, I’m really not close to him."

I tapped my acrylic nails against the studio table, praying for the call to drop.

Zoe patted my shoulder with fake concern.

"Nick is super busy at this time, maybe he doesn’t have time for these little things."

"It’s okay, I’ll try. As long as we get the money in the end~"

...

The lights on set flickered, and someone coughed in the crew. I just wished the floor would open up and swallow me right through the linoleum. I pasted on my best pageant smile and kept my hands busy fiddling with my ring—classic anxiety move, hoping nobody noticed the way my knuckles whitened.

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