The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 104-1

Chapter 104: Their Children Must Be The Same Age As

Mine-1

Angela POV

I clutched David Chen's offered arm as we navigated through the crowded entrance of

Sotheby's.

The opulent auction hall buzzed with Manhattan's elite-faces I hadn't seen in five years but who clearly remembered me, if their whispers and sidelong glances were any

indication.

"Ms. Wilson, I apologize for the last-minute change," David said in his perfectly modulated voice. "Mr. Blake was called into an urgent meeting. He's asked me to accompany you tonight."

"It's fine, David," I replied. "Christopher has more important things to attend to than a charity auction."

David nodded respectfully. "Ms. Wilson, your seat is in the private box upstairs. Mr. Blake

arranged it specifically."

The auctioneer tapped his microphone, drawing the room's attention.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we've concluded our regular offerings and now move to tonight's highlight-original Monet."

I settled into my seat, grateful for the relative privacy of the box as bidding began. Numbers flew across the room, wealth displayed in casual seven-figure increments.

Shaw!" the auctioneer announced

hear six

really

the room frantically, my eyes darting between faces, but

in one of the private boxes, like me-hidden from the general audience but

I even do if I

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Their Children Must Be The Same Age

could I possibly say

called out again, the name striking me like a physical blow

armrest, knuckles turning white as that name-the one I had avoided speaking

airless, oxygen replaced by memories I'd fought so hard

suppress.

concern evident in his expression. "Ms. Wilson, are you

You've gone quite pale."

bit lightheaded," I managed, my voice sounding distant

I need

me to accompany you?" David asked, already half-rising from

please stay. I'll just step out

unsteady as I made my way to the exit, my heart hammering against my ribs with each

eyes closed, willing my pulse to slow. Winter rain fell gently

around my shoulders, the New York

the one in my memories-my last encounter with Sean had been during another winter, in

pressing my palm against my forehead. I've built a new life, I

the cold sweat that had formed on my brow. I turned to walk toward the

"Excuse me," I murmured