The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

is Baby The Billionaire’s Secret Scandal 295

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The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 295: Became Uncle Christopher

Christopher POV

It was winter when I brought Angela to Italy. Angela was four month pregnant then, her belly just beginning to round beneath her

oversized sweaters.

I'd purchased a modest villa in the Italian countryside. Nothing too stentatious-l wanted her comfortable, not overwhelmed.

The locals quickly accepted us as a young couple expecting their first child. Well, children. We learned about the twins during her first ultrasound in Italy.

"Twins," the doctor had said in accented English, pointing the grainy screen. "Due in summer."

Angela's face had paled. I remember reaching for her hand, feeling if tremble in mine. Two babies. Neither of us had expected that.

"We'll manage," I told her on the drive home. "I'll hire help. Whatever you need."

She'd just nødded, staring out the window at the passing countryside her hand resting protectively over her stomach.

The months that followed were a blur of preparations-assembling two of everything, reading every book on twin births I could find, converting an entire wing of the villa into a nursery.

wanted everything perfect for them. Perfect for her.

They arrived in July, during a heatwave that had the whole region sweating and irritable. Angela had been uncomfortable for weeks, her ankles swollen, her patience thin. When her water broke at three in the morning, I nearly crashed the car rushing her to the hospital.

had displaced her. Ethan followed seven minutes later, quieter but with a gaze that seemed to take in everything. I stood by Angela's side through it all, holding her hand, wiping her brow, feeling utterly useless against

was tiny, her face red and scrunched in protest, her fists balled tightly as if ready to

to Angela,

He looked directly at me, his unfocused newborn eyes somehow seeming to

that transcended

biologically, but in that moment, they became mine in

going to take care

them, to Angela, to myself. A vow more binding than any marriage certificate could ever

the hardest. Nights blurred into days in an endless cycle of feedings, diaper changes, and

ecious moments

while I tended to the twins. Other days she

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295: Became

night nurse to help, fut

insisted, dark circles under her eyes, hair downed the ban.

nights a week, for or

she relented, and those three nights of uninterrupted slap made a world of difference. Slowly, the Angels 16 fallen in love with began to resurface-

fallen asleep.

turned one, we'd established a routine that wed. My business required occasional travel, but

words, first tantrums. I documented everything, filling albums with

reviewing footage of Ethan's first successful attempt

anything, I'd replied, not taking my eyes off the screen. In the video, my voice could be beard cheering Ethan on, ridiculous with enthusiasm over something so small. But

did our strange little

pancakes, summer picnics by the lake, bedtime stories that grew more

kicked frantically, determined to master this new skill Angela taught Aria to dance,

we were married. "Your husband," they'd say to Angela, or "your wife" to me. Neither of us corrected them. It was easier that way,

a friend.

I thought it might happen. Late nights on the terrace, wine loosening our usual boundaries, when our conversation would drift