The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 76

Chapter 76: Christina Is Missing!

Angela Pov

"Angela?" Sean's voice was tentative as he ended the call. We were sl in the elevator, and I could feel his ey

eyes studying my farm,

You look pale. Are you feeling alright?"

I managed a small nod, though my scraped palms still stung beneath their

bandages. Before I could respond, Sean cleared his throat, a hint of apology in his voice.

"About Christina... she's still in the hospital, so I need to

You d

don't need to explain, I cut him off, forcing a smile that felt lle even to me,

Looking at his concerned expression, I made a decision. I wouldn't tell him about the attack, or my suspicions about Christina's possible involvement.

Without concrete evidence, he would never believe me. He loved Christina too much to even consider she might be capable of such things.

The drive home was quiet, Manhattan's evening traffic creating a cocoon of silence around us. His earlier tenderness in the already felt like a fading dream, dissolving like mist in the harsh light of reality.

The next few days fell into a pattern.

office

protective instincts apparently triggered by my scraped hands

had been overly paranoid. Maybe the man

I couldn't quite shake the memory of his knowing

On.

I stood in her hospital room that morning, all other

lay propped against pristine pillows, her silver hair

from adjusting

hand.

playing at her lips. In

authority I'd grown to love, “you look pale. Have you been taking

her, but Dr. Carter's appearance in the doorway cut me

make myself let go of Elizabeth's hand, even

1/3

76: Christina

Sean's arm slipped around my waist, strong and steady, helping me find

will be fine, dear," Elizabeth assured me as they prepared to wheel her through the surgical doors. Take care of each other while I'm sleeping, won't

only ned, my throat too tight for words. Sean's arm tightened around my waist as we

Presbyterian's VIP surgical wing offered every luxury money could buy, hut

at the floor-to-ceiling windows, my forehead pressed against

close, one hand resting lightly on the small

an hour, Victoria's

you should put that

that on silent,

I felt him tense slightly beside me. The surgical wing's indicator

his suit jacket and craping it over my shoulders. The fabric carried his warmth and familiar scent,

whispered, both for the jacket and the steady presence beside me. His hand