The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 118-1

Chapter 118: Two Men's Bet-1

Angela POV

Tristan Lawrence approached on his Thoroughbred, his expression a mixture of

annoyance and determination. His gaze darted between Sean and me, clearly displeased at seeing me on Sean's horse.

"Just racing is too dull, Shaw," Tristan called out, his voice carrying across the field. “Care to add a wager to make things interesting?"

Sean barely acknowledged him, seemingly preoccupied with my presence in his arms. The warmth of his chest against my back was an unwelcome reminder of our earlier encounter in the changing room.

"Mr. Lawrence," I attempted to speak, desperate to salvage my business opportunity. "About the investment proposal we were discussing-"

"What's the wager?" Sean interrupted coldly, his voice vibrating against my shoulder.

Tristan's eyes gleamed with calculation. "If I win, we race again. And you return Ms.

Wilson to me!"

I stiffened. How dare they treat me like a prize to be won? I opened my mouth to protest

but found myself silenced by the sudden tension in Sean's body.

"Don't even think about it," Sean's voice dropped dangerously low. "And you won't beat me

anyway."

Tristan taunted. "I'm brave enough to issue the challenge.

change against my back, recognizing the signs of his temper rising. I'd witnessed it countless times during

storm.

my wager: if

Completely."

in surprise. "Good God, Shaw, that's

1/3

118: Two Men's

or not?" Sean

Jessica, who was perched nervously behind him. "What do you think? We have

clutched his jacket tightly. "I

a simple race into something dangerous, all for their egos. And

in hand.

written across his features. The official continued, “As a reminder, the first rider to retrieve the red flag at the summit wins. There's also a special prize from the club

eight..."-I attempted to swing my leg over and dismount. Sean's arm instantly tightened

"Seven..." the official called.

lips brushed against my ear, sending an unwelcome

you can

was formulating a scathing retort

terrified squeal.

called back. "Winning is

at the starting line, making

form. The silence stretched between us until I couldn't

finally demanded. "Are you trying to lose

as a low rumble against my back. "What, worried you'll have to go