The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 102

Chapter 120

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“Says who?”

“Says my extensive dating history?” she countered. “I’ve never made it past the three-month mark with anyone. I get bored, or they get clingy, or both.”

“This is different,” I pointed out, “You’re literally married to the guy.”

“On paper, sure. But we both knew what this was. She chewed her lip, “There’s so much at stake-the business connections, the family dynamics. If we try for something real and it implodes…”

“It could get messy,” I acknowledged. “But what if it doesn’t implode? What if it’s actually the real thing?”

She looked genuinely alarmed at the prospect. “That might be even scarier.”

Morton returned before I could respond, impeccably composed as always. “Apologies for the interruption. Shall we order dessert?”

The tension lingered through dessert-a architectural marvel of chocolate and gold leaf that seemed almost too beautiful to eat –but Morton and Scarlett maintained their carefully polite facades.

By the time we returned to the suite, I excused myself quickly, leaving Scarlett and Morton to navigate their complicated new terrain without an audience.

Love seems to be a test for everyone. Even Scarlett is no exception.

In the sanctuary of my room, I changed into comfortable pajamas and settled onto the window seat, looking out at the Paris skyline. The Eiffel Tower glittered in the distance, its hourly light show casting a magical glow over the city.

My phone buzzed with a text from Thomas:

Sorry to miss dinner. How was your day? Ready for tomorrow’s meeting?

I smiled at his thoughtfulness, typing back:

Day was good. Museum in morning, research all afternoon. Nervous but excited for tomorrow.

His response came quickly.

You’ll impress them. Let me know if you need anything before the meeting.

Thanks, Thomas. Goodnight.

Setting my phone aside, I pulled out my laptop again, drawn back to that house in the 16th arrondissement. Something about it had captured my imagination, sparked a professional curiosity I hadn’t felt in too long.

I scrolled through the images again, studying the elegant lines and innovative use of space. The description mentioned that it had been a collaboration between Bernard Leblanc himself and an unnamed client with very specific ideas about what a home should be.

If that was the quality of work they did with involved clients, I could only imagine what they might do with full creative freedom. Even more reason to make a good impression tomorrow.

I closed my laptop and moved to the bed, my body craving rest even as my mind continued to whirl with architectural possibilities and personal complications. The twins were quieter now, perhaps sensing my need for sleep.

“Big day tomorrow,” I murmured to them, rubbing small circles over my bump. “Time to rest up.”

As I drifted toward sleep, my last conscious thought was a strange mix of determination and hope-for my career, for my sons, for the future I was starting to envision more clearly with each passing day.

Morning arrived with a flurry of activity. Scarlett, apparently having resolved or at least temporarily shelved her emotional

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turmoil, was in full efficiency mode, ensuring I had everything I needed for the meeting.

“Portfolio?” she asked, pacing the living area while I finished my breakfast.

“On my tablet,” I confirmed, taking another bite of croissant.

“Business cards?”

“In my purse.”

“Outfit?”

“Already laid out.” The navy shift dress was professional but comfortable, with a subtle pattern that flattered my changing shape without emphasizing it.

“Water bottle?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, mom.”

“Someone has to make sure you stay hydrated,” she replied primly. “Those twins are stealing all your brain cells.”

“Pregnancy brain is a myth,” I protested, though I had indeed forgotten my room key twice this week alone.

“Mmm-hmm.” Her skepticism was palpable. “Henri will drive you to the meeting and wait to bring you back. I’ve scheduled a light lunch here afterward, and then we can go exploring if you’re up for it.”

“That sounds perfect.” I checked my watch-still almost two hours until the meeting. “You’re really on top of things this morning.”

A shadow passed over her face briefly. “Just want to make sure everything goes smoothly for you.”

“And you’re using excessive planning to avoid thinking about your conversation with Morton?” I guessed.

She sighed, dropping onto the sofa beside me. “Maybe. Is it working?”

“Not really.” I squeezed her hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re overthinking this. Morton is a good guy. And he clearly cares about you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve never been good at… reciprocating. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You might surprise yourself,” I suggested. “People can change when the right person comes along.”

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