The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife

She Left With His Baby The Billionaire’s Secret Scandal 321

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Angela POV

The London cemetery was veiled in a gentle mist when we arrived, the pale blue sky occasionally peeking through clouds that drifted like lost thoughts.

I carried a bouquet of white lilies-Christopher's favorite, as I'd learned from David

at the funeral last year. Their fragrance filled the air around us, sweet and melancholy all at once.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet as we wound our way through rows of headstones, some ancient and weathered, others like Christopher's-still new, the wound of loss fresh in the earth.

When we reached his grave, I paused, taking in the sight of the polished black granite that gleamed even in the subdued light, his name and dates etched in gold. Someone-his grandfather, perhaps had left fresh roses recently, their crimson petals stark against the stone's darkness.

I knelt down, my knees pressing into the damp grass, and placed my bouquet beside the existing arrangement. A robin landed on a nearby headstone, tilting its head as if curious about our presence in this quiet place.

"Hello, Christopher," I said softly, my voice carrying in the stillness.

Sean stood a few paces behind me, head bowed, giving me the space to speak the words that had gathered in my heart during our journey here. The robin chirped once, then flew away.

"Everyone's lives are moving forward," I continued, smoothing a wrinkle from the edge of a lily petal. "David actually opened that surf shop he talked about. It's on the California coast-the 'Blake Wave Rider,' he named it. He sent us a picture of himself with his first student, both soaking wet and laughing. You'd smile if you could see it."

I pulled my cardigan tighter against the chill, my wedding ring catching a brief glint of sunlight that had broken through the clouds

every month about what she wants to be when she grows up. Now she wants to be a violinist. Last month it was a pilot, and before that, veterinarian. She practices her violin every day after school, and I have to admit, the screeching sounds are... challenging. But Sean sits through every practice session, wearing headphones but

behind

you gave him has become his most treasured possession. Some nights, I find him asleep by

fingertip, feeling each curve and line, as if somehow I could reach through the stone

Italy," I said, my voice dropping lower. "I couldn't bear to let strangers live there, in a place filled with so many niemories-good ones, despite everything. The children spend summers there now. Aria jumps into the pool just

down my

forward, like rivers finding their way to the sea. Everyone except you. You're frozen in time now, preserved in our memories exactly

wiped my eyes with the back

approached then, a bottle of beer in one hand and two small glasses in the other. He sat

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the headstone, twisting the cap off

to me. "Remember. when we used to play together back in played hockey last week with

with

"Here's to past glory days and

the grave. The amber liquid darkened the earth, a libation for the

is strange," Sean continued, his voice thoughtful. "We're all headed to the same final checkout counter, aren't we? Some just get

looked at me, his green eyes reflecting flecks of golden sunlight. Christopher got there before us, but he made his journey

my slightly rounded belly, feeling the subtle movements of the life growing within. "I'm pregnant

for my hand, our

a name," I continued, my voice steadier now. "We're calling him Christopher. After you. Not because we're trying to replace you-no one could. But because we

picked up, scattering a few petals from the lilies across the stone. A butterfly-bright blue and unexpected-landed briefly on the headstone before fluttering away toward a