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.

who insisted on real wood,"

the one who insisted on ignoring basic furniture care, she'd shot back, but there was

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 neatly, just as he'd always left them. I

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

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

his heart too small?" she'd demanded when we read about the

don't know how to love properly," I'd explained, catching

sad," Ethan

a child's plastic cup still sat on the counter. It was Ethan's favorite-blue with dinosaurs that changed color when filled with cold liquid. He'd refused

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

up, and only after

her that big girls didn't need pacifiers. She'd handed it over with great ceremony,

never broke

1/2

Ghosts

character sheets, toys arranged on shelves, glow-in-the-dafy stars still stuck to the ceiling, I'd helped them place those stars, lifting each child in turn so they could reach, Aria had insisted on making the Little Dipper, though her

faintly. I'd purchased her signature perfume-Acqua di Parma Gelsomino Nobile-and Instructed Maria to spray it lightly around the room once a month. Ap artificial reminder, but necessary, I couldn't bear

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

the silk of her robes. The sundress she'd worn on Aria's fourth birthday, when we'd had a picnic by the lake. The faded jeans with a small paint stain