The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 118

Chapter 118: Two Men’s Bet–2

Despite my outward composure, my body betrayed me. The force of acceleration pushed me firmly against Sean, my hands instinctively gripping his thighs for stability. I hated the weakness, hated how my body remembered his–remembered the security of his embrace even as my mind rejected it.

“Why so quiet now?” Sean taunted, his breath hot against my ear. His arm held me securely, preventing me from falling despite the breakneck pace.

I refused to respond, focusing instead on controlling my racing heart.

“Turn around and face me,” Sean suggested, his voice holding an amused challenge.

“How is that even possible?” I snapped, irritation breaking through my resolve.

Sean’s chest vibrated with a low chuckle. “I’ll make you win,” he promised, the words carrying an intensity that went beyond the race.

The Arabian stallion thundered along the designated track, its powerful strides eating up the distance. The cold wind whipped my long hair, occasional strands catching against

Sean’s neck.

“Why didn’t you tie your hair back?” Sean asked, his voice tight with annoyance.

I bit my tongue, remembering exactly why my hair was loose–my hair clip had broken during our encounter in the changing room. Another thing to blame him for.

We rode for nearly twenty minutes without any sign of Tristan and Jessica. As we

approached a fork in the trail, my curiosity got the better of me.

“Where are they?” I asked, scanning the landscape.

“There are three routes to the summit,” Sean explained. “Two official tracks and one shortcut trail.” He pulled the horse to a stop at the junction. “Which way do you want to

go?”

“Why would that matter to me?” I replied coldly, though internally I was calculating the

fastest route to victory–and to concluding this nightmare of an afternoon.

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Chapter 118: Two Men’s Bet–2

Sean’s voice turned calculating. “Lawrence might take the shortcut to win. If we take it too and encounter them on that narrow path, things could get dangerous.”

When I didn’t respond, Sean guided the horse toward the smallest trail. It was barely visible, winding up the hillside through dense trees.

“What are you doing?” I asked, alarm evident in my

voice.

“Helping you win,” Sean stated simply as the horse plunged onto the narrow path.

The shortcut initially seemed wider than I had feared, but as we continued, it narrowed

treacherously, twisting sharply between rocks and trees. The horse moved with surprising agility, but several times I felt certain we would tumble off the edge. Each time, Sean’s expert control pulled us back from disaster.

My fingers dug into his forearms as we navigated a particularly sharp turn, the horse’s hooves sliding slightly on loose gravel. I bit back a scream, hating my weakness, hating that after five years of building independence, one afternoon with Sean had reduced me to this trembling and dependent on his protection.

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