The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

h His Baby The Billionaire’s Secret Scandal 290

Chapter 290: Twisted Script Written By Fate

Angela POV

I paced the sterile hospital corridor, my borrowed clothes hanging loosely on my frame.

The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across the linoleum floor, making everything look washed out and unreal.

Sean sat on a plastic chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his wedding suit rumpled and stained with Christopher's blood.

The emergency room doors remained firmly shut. No matter how many times I approached the nurses' station, the answer was always the same: "The doctors are still working. We'll update you as soon as we can."

When David finally arrived, his face was pale with worry. His normally impeccable appearance was disheveled-tie askew, hair uncombed, as if he'd dropped everything and rushed over. His eyes widened when he saw us.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice strained.

Sean stood up, running a hand through his hair. "There was an incident at our wedding. A woman crashed the reception and attacked Angela with a knife. Christopher... he got between them."

"A woman?" David frowned. "Who?"

the name bitter on my tongue. The one who kidnapped me five

face. "The woman who kidnapped you back then? The

for support. My body felt heavy with exhaustion and worry. "Yes. She showed up at our wedding, claiming I had ordered someone to disfigure her face in prison." I looked

and took the knife

checking his watch every few minutes, his fingers drumming anxiously against his thigh-not the controlled behavior of an employee concerned for his boss, but the raw

brother.

furious when you were kidnapped. He even paid some prison connections to teach that woman a lesson.” He hesitated, then added, "Christopher has

eyes widened. "So the scars on Jennifer's

He just ordered someone to teach her a lesson.' He

hit me like a physical blow. I slid down the wall until was sitting on the floor, my mind racing. It all felt like some twisted script written by fate. If Christopher hadn't arranged

my voice breaking. “If I hadn't invited him to

crouched down beside me, his hand firm on

stepped in front of that knife. He would do it again

paced the corridor like a caged animal, his hands clenching

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Script

daylight again," he said, his voice cold and deadly. She'll spend the rest of her miserable life behind bars. I'll