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 library shelves before

learned it soon enough, though. Angela Wilson. Daughter of John Wilson, the investment banker. Mother who'd left when she

after that day. Those amber eyes, so like mine. The

then, Sean and I had been teammates for almost a year. I hadn't mentioned

arena was packed. She was wearing a blue scarf-our school colors-and she never took her eyes off the ice.

anyone around her. During the break between periods, she somehow made her way down to the

my chest. Of course she was here for Sean. Everyone was always here

game that night was terrible. I missed passes, fumbled the puck, got checked into the

in the locker room, throwing his gloves into his bag.

his bag forcefully. "We can't afford to lose

to speak. How could I explain that I was distracted by the girl from the orary? The

Angela had somehow become part of the cheerleading squad. I wondered if she'd joined just to be closer to Sean during games. It seemed like something she would do she had that determination

for Sean after practices or

happy to see her, to be in the same room as

told myself being friends was enough. That seeing her smile-even if that smile wasn't for

Christopher POV

together. Two years later,

this school-Sean was here. She'd even selected the same economics major as him. Her dedication to following him was both admirable and painful to

her time orbiting Sean

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

night, but afterward, I gave her all the credit. I knew the blonde bombshell had her sights set on Sean, and I deliberately

had only met Angela first by coincidence. His

watched him drift further away from Angela, his focus increasingly consumed by the

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

said,

up, hastily wiping her tears away. "Christopher?

sitting down beside her. The scent of alcohol

in it. "Maybe a little. Or a lot.

up to bullies in libraries and cheered the loudest at hockey

I asked,

since high

wanted to pull her into my arms, to tell her Sean was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of

"Six years I've loved him, and he never once looked at me that

an idiot,” I said

was relieved-even glad. Sean was with Christina now. Maybe, just

he's not. He's Sean. Perfect, wonderful Sean." She leaned her head back against the