Billionaire's Pregnant Ex-wife novel Chapter 81

I wasn’t able to sleep that night. Though I was tired from dancing with my six brothers, attending to the guests‘ needs, and being introduced to them afterward, sleep refused to come to me after I went to bed.

Sprawled on the bed, eyes wide open, my gaze remained glued to the ceiling while my mind replayed the events of the party, beginning with seeing my ex–husband in the crowd.

Isabelle had fallen asleep beside me on the large bed. I wanted to sleep too, so my mind could rest, but despite trying so hard, I failed miserably.

There were hundreds of questions racing through my mind, but I possessed no power to answer them all.

My eyes fluttered closed. But even with my eyes pressed together, I could still see Grey staring at me with savage fury in his hazel–green eyes. But before I saw the fury emerging from them, there were other emotions present.

Betrayal.

Pain.

Loss.

Defeat.

In the blink of an eye, those emotions disappeared. Fury replaced them.

How could he look at me that way when he was the one who betrayed me? How could he just walk away without looking back, as though I no longer existed in his life, when I was supposed to be the one doing that to him after what I went through because of him?

I’m still human too… I have feelings and emotions of my own… That’s why it hurt me to watch him walk away after he shot me a deadly look that pierced straight to my soul without knowing why.

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Was he thinking I faked my death? Or was he furious after discovering that the woman he

hurt now owned his beloved hotel?

Either way, he still had no right to look so betrayed.

If only he’d known that it was his present wife who kidnapped me and then tried to kill me,

I wondered if he would still look me in the eye the way he did on the balcony.

I tossed and turned on the bed and could only quietly thank the heavens that Isabelle’s

sleep was not disturbed by my restlessness.

Heaving a sigh, I forced myself to sleep by counting sheep in my mind. As though the heavens finally heard my prayers, a yawn emerged from my lips. Gradually, my eyelids grew heavy, and without even realizing it, I fell asleep.

The warm sunshine pouring through the Venetian blinds I forgot to close last night woke

me from my deep slumber. My eyes slowly fluttered open, and the sudden brightness made

me close them again.

Isabelle had cried twice. The first time was around one a.m., and the last was nearly four in the morning. It didn’t surprise me that she was still sleeping at this hour.

I slowly eased out of the bed, careful not to wake her. As usual, I started my day with a few minutes of stretching.

I had just finished stretching when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and my mother entered my room.

“Is Belle still asleep?” Mom asked.

“She is, Mom,” I told her. “She cried twice last night, so I’m sure she’ll be sleeping for another hour.”

Mom sat on the edge of the bed, watching her granddaughter with a twinkle in her eyes and

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a fond smile on her lips.

After a moment of silence, she finally turned to me. “You told me last week that you would visit your parents‘ graves today. I came here to watch over Isabelle so you could finally start preparing,”

I gave her a grateful look and mumbled the words “Thank you, Mom” before moving to the

bathroom to take a bath.

It was around ten–thirty when I left the house in my brand–new Lamborghini. The sun was up on the horizon, promising a beautiful day ahead.

I left Isabelle with Mom since I couldn’t take her to the cemetery while carrying three baskets of flowers: one for my mother, one for my father, and one for my son, Dylan.

It was the first time I would visit their graves after leaving the country a year ago, and I had prepared some candles for them too. I hadn’t seen the cemetery since leaving the country; I wondered if it still looked the same.

My car pulled to a stop in the spacious parking area in front of the cemetery. There were no other cars around except a handsome gray Ferrari.

What was this gorgeous car doing here? I thought to myself while admiring it. Still unable to answer my own question, I tore my gaze away from it and opened the compartment of my car to bring out the basket of fresh flowers I had brought with me.

With three baskets of fresh roses in my hands–one basket on the left and two on the right -I entered through the newly painted white gate.

The cemetery still looked the same as before–though not exactly the same as it had before, for me, nothing had changed.

My signature shoes traversed the grassy path in silence until I finally reached my destination. When I stopped in front of my parents‘ grave, I noticed a bouquet of fresh flowers on top of it. They were not the only ones who had flowers; Dylan’s grave also had a

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bouquet resting on it.

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Who could have been the kind–hearted person who left the flowers on the graves? I hoped I

could personally thank him or her for paying my family a visit.

I placed the two baskets of flowers on top of my parents‘ grave, then the last on Dylan’s

grave, before lighting the three white candles I had brought with me.

Closing my eyes, my lips began to move in a soulful prayer: “Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen…”

When I finished praying, my eyes opened. That’s when I sensed I was no longer alone in the

area.

My head turned toward the private mausoleum standing a few paces away from where I