The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 202

“Ms. Patel said Alexander has been organizing the class into teams during recess to build ‘skyscrapers’ with blocks. Apparently, he assigns everyone roles based on their ‘special talents.””

“Future CEO,” Thomas laughed.

“And Ethan has been spending his free time in the reading corner, working his way through books meant for children two grades ahead.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice. “But he’s also been ‘helping’ the other children with their reading, which sometimes means just doing it for them.”

“They’re remarkable,” Thomas said. “You’ve done an amazing job, Mia.”

“We’ve had help,” I acknowledged. “My mother, Scarlett, you, Nate-it takes a village, right?”

“Speaking of villages,” Thomas said, “have you heard back about the Chicago project?”

I nodded, glad for the subtle change of subject. “We got the preliminary approval this morning. If all with the final presentation next month, construction could start by fall.”

“That’s fantastic,” he said, genuinely pleased. “Another healing space in the world because of you.”

goes

well

I rested my head against his shoulder, content to sit in the moment. This was what I’d built over the last four years-a career I was passionate about, two beautiful sons, and relationships that nourished rather than drained me.

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She signed the divorce papers, walked out without …

“I’m happy,” I said, the words slipping out almost involuntarily.

Thomas pressed a kiss to my temple. “Good. You deserve it.”

We walked back toward my building hand in hand, talking about everything and nothing-the upcoming museum exhibit Thomas was curating, the twins’ summer camp options, the possibility of a weekend trip to his lake house in the Berkshires.

The night doorman greeted us with a friendly nod as we entered the lobby of my building.

“Nightcap?” I offered as we rode the elevator to my floor.

“I’d like that,” Thomas replied.

Inside my apartment, the silence was noticeable-no running feet, no evening chorus of “just one more story,” no elaborate negotiations about bedtime snacks. I kicked off my heels with a sigh of relief.

“Wine?” I asked, heading toward the kitchen.

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