The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

She Left With His Baby The Billionaire’s Secret Scandal 314

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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 still 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," I'd

basic furniture care," she'd shot

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 neatly, just as he'd always left them. I reached for the small pink blanket folded at the bottom-Aria's "special blankie" that she'd carried everywhere until age

pressed 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

fairy tales. I remembered

his heart too small?" she'd

to love properly," I'd explained, catching Angela's eye over

sad," Ethan had

to the kitchen next, where 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.

drawer next to the sink, I found a small rubber pacifier. Aria had been almost three before she'd given hers up, and only after I'd convinced her that big girls didn't need pacifiers. She'd handed it over with great ceremony, extracting a promise

broke

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arranged on shelves, glow-in-the-dark 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

Angela's bedroom, her scent lingered 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. An artificial reminder, but necessary. I couldn't bear the thought of the last

still held strands of her dark hair. I found myself here more than once, gently removing a single strand, wrapping it around my finger like a promise, before

the closet, running my fingers along the clothes she'd left behind. The sleeves of her sweaters, the silk of her robes. The sundress she'd worn on Aria's fourth birthday, when we'd had a

paper, I found what I'd come for-a small box of Christmas ornaments the children had made. Construction paper stars covered in glitter. Popsicle stick frames with their school photos. Salt dough handprints

set up earlier that day. Eight feet tall,