The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Christopher POV

I was seventeen when I first saw Angela Wilson.

That day, I just wanted some peace in the school library. The scandal about my father and that stripper had been plastered across every newspaper and gossip site for weeks. I pulled my hoodie up, hoping no one would recognize me.

Two girls were whispering behind a bookshelf nearby, not bothering to keep their voices down.

"Can you believe his dad got caught with that stripper?" one of them said, giggling.

"In a hotel lobby, no less. Talk about tacky," the other replied.

I gripped my book tighter, staring at the same page I'd been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. I wasn't going to engage. What was the point? I couldn't shut everyone's mouth in the school, let alone the entire city.

"I heard the mom tried to kill herself after," the first girl continued, her voice dropping lower but still audible. "Apparently she found out through TMZ. Can you imagine?"

My knuckles turned white around the edges of the book. That part wasn't public knowledge. Someone's parents must work at the hospital.

"Like father, like son, right?" the second girl said. "I bet that Christopher kid is just as messed up."

I closed my eyes, trying to block out their voices. I'd heard worse. The tabloids had been relentless, digging up every piece of dirt they could find on my family.

"That's enough."

A new voice cut through the whispers-firm, clear, unfamiliar. I glanced up to see a girl I'd never noticed before standing at the end of the bookshelf, amber eyes blazing with indignation.

"Do you two have nothing better to do than spread gossip about someone else's family tragedy?" she demanded.

The two girls quickly turned their attention to her instead, shifting their gossip and cruel comments expression neutral, watching as she stood her ground, refusing to back down even as they brought up her own family troubles. urd Angela. I kept my Something about the way she held herself-chin high, eyes steady-told me she was used to this kind of battle.

I finally decided I'd heard enough. Standing up to my full height, I stepped out from behind the bookshelf and gave them a cold stare that made them both freeze. They gathered their things and left quickly, muttering something about "damaged goods sticking together" as they hurried away.

When they were gone, Angela turned to me with a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that," she said. "Some people have nothing better to do

I studied her face, noticing how her eyes-the exact same shade of amber as mine-held no pity, just understanding. That's when I realized she wasn't just defending a stranger; she was defending someone who might understand what it felt like to have your family's broken pieces examined under the public microscope.

"Thanks," I replied simply. "But you didn't have to do that."

She shrugged. "Maybe not. But sometimes it's nice to know someone in your corner."

1/3

she turned and walked away, disappearing among the

learned it soon enough, though. Angela Wilson. Daughter of John Wilson, the investment banker. Mother who'd left when she was young-a detail I filed away, understanding now why she'd reacted

after that day. Those amber eyes, so like mine. The way she'd stood up to those girls without hesitation. I wondered if

and I had been teammates for almost a year. I hadn't mentioned the library incident to him-it seemed trivial, and talking about it

a blue scarf-our school colors-and she

than anyone around her. During the break between periods, she

course she was here for Sean. Everyone was always here for Sean. Star player,

night was terrible. I missed passes, fumbled the puck, got checked into the boards twice because I wasn't paying attention. We lost

locker room, throwing his gloves into his bag. "You played like you'd never held a hockey stick

zipping his bag forcefully. "We can't

that I was distracted by

next game two weeks later, Angela had somehow become part of the cheerleading squad. I wondered if she'd joined just to be closer to Sean during games.

looking for Sean after practices or games, I'd feel that

to be in the same room

That seeing her

Christopher POV

together. Two years later, Angela followed us

here. She'd even selected the same economics major as him. Her dedication to following him was both admirable

her time orbiting Sean lasted

became campus legend- when Christina "heroically" saved Sean from drowning. What nobody knew was that I

night, but afterward, I gave her all the credit. I knew the

with her Sean had only met Angela first by coincidence. His feelings for her could never match the depth of

watched him drift further away from Angela, his

found Angela sitting alone outside the hockey arena, long after practice had ended. It was unusually cold for spring, and she wasn't

said, approaching

tears away. "Christopher? What are you doing

I explained, sitting down beside her. The scent of

there was no humor in it. "Maybe a little. Or a lot. can't really

Angela was always vibrant, confident-the girl who stood up to bullies in libraries and cheered the loudest at hockey games. Seeing her broken down hit me harder than

I asked, though I already

"I was going to tell him today. How I felt. That I've loved him since high school." She took a shaky breath. "But when I got

I wanted to pull her into my arms, to tell her Sean was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of him. Instead, I just sat there, letting her

words slurring slightly. "Six years I've loved him,

idiot,”

with Christina now. Maybe, just maybe, this meant I would finally have

this time. “No, he's not. He's Sean. Perfect, wonderful Sean." She leaned her head back against the wall. "And who