The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 104

Chapter 104: Their Children Must Be The Same Age As

Mine–2

“That’s kind of him to say,” I replied, trying to regain my composure.

“My father mentioned he’s made several attempts to bring you on board at Lawrence Capital. May I ask why you’ve declined? Were his terms not satisfactory, or is it something about the company itself?”

I chose my words carefully, unwilling to reveal my plans for establishing my own firm. “I appreciate your father’s offers, but my reasons for declining are personal..”

Tristan’s smile widened, transforming his face with boyish charm.

“Fair enough. Though you should know that I’ll be taking over operations soon, and if you were to join us, I’d ensure you received… special consideration.”

Before I could respond, Tristan removed his jacket and draped it over my shoulders in one

fluid motion.

“New York winters are brutal compared to the Italian countryside,” he said, his voice lowering slightly. “I’ve just returned from the French Riviera–the contrast between Mediterranean sunshine and Manhattan ice is quite jarring.”

The gesture caught me off–guard, the jacket still warm from his body heat.

“I should return to the auction,” Tristan said, glancing at his watch. “I’m hosting at The Plaza later tonight–nothing formal, just drinks and conversation. My driver can pick you up whenever you’re ready to leave here.”

He stepped back with a slight bow, walking away before I could return his jacket.

I moved to follow him, intending to return the garment, but he had already disappeared

around a corner. With a sigh, I headed toward the entrance, hoping to hand the jacket to

an attendant.

“Excuse me,” I said to a young woman staffing the coat check. “Could you please return this to Mr. Lawrence when you see him?”

The attendant’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Wilson, but if Mr. Lawrence gave you his jacket, you should probably return it to him personally.”

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Chapter 104: Their Children Must Be The Same Age As Mine–2

“I don’t know where he’s gone,” I explained.

“Mr. Lawrence is something of a fixture at The Plaza,” the young woman replied, a hint of gossip in her tone. “Hosts parties there almost weekly. Though I must say, him giving you his jacket is unusual–he typically doesn’t leave… tokens… with the women he meets.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

The attendant leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Lawrence never leaves evidence. Giving you his jacket means he wants you to find him to return it–it’s his way of ensuring a second

meeting.

“I see,” I replied. “Thank you for the information.”

I straightened, preparing to return to the auction room when a movement at the entrance

caught my eye. My heart stuttered to a stop, the world around me seeming to freeze in

that singular moment.

Sean Shaw stood just inside the doorway, commanding attention without effort.

His white shirt contrasted sharply with his black suit, his cold, handsome features set in

the same impassive expression I remembered all too well.

Beside him stood Christina Jordan, resplendent in a floor–length pink gown, the hem slightly damp from the rain outside. She clung to his arm with practiced intimacy, her red hair gleaming under the chandeliers.

They looked perfect together–the power couple everyone had always expected them to be. Other guests turned to acknowledge them, respect and admiration evident in their deference.

Pain lanced through my chest, sharper than I’d anticipated.