The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 58

Chapter 58: That Damn Speakerphone Spill

Angela POV

I closed the bedroom door behind me as quietly as possible.

Sean sat in the leather armchair by the window, dressed in just a white T-shirt and dark loungewear pants.

His usually perfect appearance was nowhere to be seen-his hair slightly disheveled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it repeatedly.

Elizabeth's words from earlier echoed in my mind: "That boy... when he heard you were in trouble, he ran out without even grabbing his coat."

I found my eyes drawn to his broad shoulders, noting how the thin cotton material of his T-shirt did little to hide his tensed

muscles.

The thought of him rushing out into the cold night, focused only on reaching me, stirred something deep within my chest.

For a moment, I nearly broke the heavy silence between us. But pride held my tongue.

What would I say?

Thank you for coming to my rescue?

I'm sorry for worrying you?

None of it felt right, not when our marriage was nothing but a convenient arrangement with an expiration date.

As I moved toward the walk-in closet, my phone buzzed with a message. Christopher's name appeared on the screen:

"Save my new number, Little Angel."

over the keyboard before I replied: "I'm not that

quickly: "What should I call

"Just Angela is fine."

Angel it

stared at the last message, a

Sean used in his most tender moments with me, when his guard was down and his voice

felt wrong somehow, like he was unknowingly intruding on something private, something that belonged only to Sean and

thoughts. "You should get some rest." His tone was carefully neutral, betraying nothing of what he

my nightclothes and headed to

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58: That Damn

showered

light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows

of the bed remained untouched, the pillows still

found myself reaching out, my hand hovering over the cold sheets where

Chanel suit, I made

frame bent over his laptop. He'd changed into a fresh shirt and suit pants, but the subtle shadows under his eyes suggested

up as I passed, our

morning," he said, his voice cold. "Christopher's hosting a gathering at his

my leather portfolio.

fuel?" His tone was light, but there was an edge to it. "They're already having a field day with last

thought back to our prep school days, when our arguments would follow this same pattern. Sean would always be the first to extend an olive branch, even while maintaining that stern expression of

it

I asked,

Peter pick you

leave, but his voice stopped me. "Angela." I paused, not

off guard, sending an unexpected warmth through my

floor of Shaw Tower hummed with its usual morning activity

came through just as I finished reviewing the quarterly reports. I

the privacy of