The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 112

“Scarlett-

She shushed me. I knew better than to argue when Scarlett had decided to arrange something. And truthfully, the thought of a cramped economy seat for an eight-hour flight didn’t appeal to me at twenty-four weeks pregnant with twins.

“Thank you,” I said simply.

She nodded, already typing rapidly on her phone. I’ll have everything arranged by lunch. Now, what do you want to do today? Museum? Shopping?”

I laughed at her casual inclusion of the last option. “Just no more shoes, please.”

“Fair enough.” She pocketed her phone. “Guess we can focus on bags?”

I smiled, grateful for her ability to balance serious matters with life’s simple pleasures. “Just let me shower and get dressed.”

Scarlett left to make her calls. The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Scarlett coordinated our early return with ruthless efficiency, somehow managing to secure first-class seats on a direct flight to New York the day after tomorrow, arrange for our luggage to be packed by hotel staff, and reschedule all her remaining Paris appointments within a few hours.

“Thomas is booked on the same flight,” she informed me as we returned to the hotel late that afternoon. “He had to move some meetings around, but apparently returning to New York with us was a priority.”

I chose not to examine the implications of that too closely. “That’s nice of him.”

“He’s a nice guy,” she replied with studied casualness. “Stable. Reliable. Attractive in that serious intellectual way. Financially

secure,”

“Scarlett, we’ve been over this,” I sighed.

“I’m just stating facts,” she protested, but the mischievous glint in her eye gave her away. “Anyway, we have dinner with him and Morton tonight at that little bistro near Notre Dame. Last night in Paris should be special.”

“Sounds perfect.”

As Scarlett went to shower and change for dinner, I found myself drawn to the window of my suite, gazing out at the Paris skyline. The city had worked its way into my heart over these past days-its architecture, its energy, its possibilities. The idea of returning with the twins, of building a new life here, was becoming more appealing by the day.

My phone buzzed with a text from my mother:

You coming back tomorrow?

I typed back: Yes, mom. Are you okay?

Better than okay. The evidence is mounting. Richard is trying to claim ignorance, but Helen is talking to save herself. It’s all coming apart for them.

I could almost hear the grim satisfaction in her words.

We’re coming home day after tomorrow, I told her. Accepted the job with Leblanc. Will work remotely until after the twins

arrive.

Perfect. So proud of you, sweetheart. Can’t wait to see you.

I set my phone aside, turning mom’s words over in my mind. “Proud of you.” I really want to hear this simple words for a long

time.

My relationship with my father had always been tinged with a desperate desire to please him, to earn the affection he so readily gave to Taylor and Helen. Now I understood that his withholding had been deliberate.

Chapter, scepted

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There was a certain freedoni in finally accepting that I would never have his approval, that I had never truly had his love. My father didn’t love me. Admitting it felt like setting down a heavy burden I’d carried for too long.

My hand drifted to my stomach, feeling the reassuring movements of the twins. “You’ll never have to wonder if you’re loved,” I promised them quietly. “Not for a single day.”

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