The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Chapter 297

Chapter 297: Ghosts of Christmas Past

Christopher POV

The Italian villa was exactly as she'd left it. I insisted on that. The cleaning staff came twice a week, dusting and vacuuming, keeping mold from the bathrooms and insects from the kitchen. But they had strict instructions: nothing was to be moved. Nothing was to be thrown away. Not even things that seemed like garbage.

"Sir, the children's old drawings are fading in the sunlight, Maria, the head housekeeper, once pointed out. Perhaps we could move them to-

"Leave them, I'd interrupted. "They stay exactly where they are."

She'd nodded, lips pressed together in that way people do when they think you've lost your mind but are paid too well to say so.

Maybe I had. Lost my mind. It would explain why I found myself here again, alone on Christmas Eve, in a house full of ghosts.

I walked the familiar path from the front door to the living room, my fingers trailing along the wall where pencil marks stili recorded the twins' growth. Each line had a date beside it, some in my handwriting, some in Angela's.

Ethan, age 3. Aria, age 4 and two months. Both, age 5.

The living room was still arranged the way Angela had set it up years ago. The oversized sectional where we'd spent countless nights watching movies, the twins squeezed between us. The coffee table with a faint ring where I'd once set down a hot mug without a coaster, earning Angela's exasperated sigh.

the one who insisted on real wood,"

furniture care, she'd shot back, but there was no real anger

crouched down by the toy chest in the corner, lifting the lid slowly. Inside, Aria's collection of stuffed animals stared up at me with glassy eyes. Ethan's wooden puzzles were stacked

pressed it to my face, inhaling deeply, but any trace of that baby scent was long gone, replaced by dust and time. Still,

Dr. Seuss books stood alongside Italian fairy tales. I remembered reading to them each night, Ethan serious and attentive, Aria constantly interrupting

she'd demanded when we read

properly," I'd explained, catching Angela's eye

Ethan had

that changed color when filled with cold liquid. He'd refused to drink from

next to the sink, I found a small rubber pacifier.

up, and only after

pacifiers. She'd handed it over with great ceremony, extracting

broke

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297: Ghosts of Christmas

stuck to the ceiling, I'd helped them place those stars,

Gelsomino Nobile-and Instructed Maria to spray it lightly around the room once a month. Ap artificial reminder, but necessary,

hefe more than once, gently removing a single strand, wrapping it around my finger like a promise, before forcing myself to place it back. Beside the brush stood a half-empty bottle of the lotion she'd used every night, the one that smelled like vanilla

robes. The sundress she'd worn on Aria's fourth birthday,