The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Angela POV

I watched in horror as Christopher's eyes slowly closed. My heart pounded against my ribs, fear washing over me in cold waves. This couldn't be happening. Not here, not today.

"Christopher!" I called his name, my voice breaking. “Christopher, stay with me!"

His eyelids fluttered, then opened again, though barely. Those amber eyes-so similar to my own-struggled to focus on my face. His lips, stained with blood, curved into the faintest smile.

"I'm sorry, Angela," he whispered, each word costing him visible effort. "I messed up again."

Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he spoke, running down his chin and neck. The sight of it made my stomach clench.

"Don't talk," I urged, pressing harder on his wound. "Save your strength. The ambulance will be here any minute."

Christopher seemed determined to speak, as if compelled by some urgent need. His hand found mine, his

before because I didn't know how to face you. I never should have forced you to stay with me. I failed you.

growled. "I'm not accepting your apology. Since you know you were wrong, you need to get better. You need to make amends for what you did." His voice grew louder, more intense. "You stabbed me twice, for God's sake. You need to recover so I can beat the hell out of you

hot against my skin. "And when you're better," I added, "I want a formal apology to me

quietly. "I heard you got your memory back... that's good. I have no regrets left.

his mockery. "Your men stabbed me twice and I survived. You get stabbed once by a crazy woman and you're

mouth. His grip on my

through

checking for a pulse. "He's still alive," he said, but the tension

equipment in hand. They moved swiftly, assessing Christopher's condition with practiced efficiency. Moments later, they were loading him onto a stretcher, attaching monitors and