The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131: The Purpose Behind Her Care

Sean POV

I woke early, sitting upright in my hospital bed despite the dull achen my stomach. Thomas kept giving me concerned glances from the corner of the room, but I refused to lie hack dowen.

“Mr. Shaw, it’s barely seven, Thomas said, adjusting his glasses neusly. Ms. Wilson won’t be here this early. You barely slept last night. Perhaps you should rest a bit longer? I could wait by the dog and alert you when she arrives.”

“You’re too loud, I muttered, keeping my eyes fixed on the door,

As minutes stretched into hours, I felt my mood darkening. What if he didn’t comer Thomas finally offered to check the hospital entrance, but just as he reached for the door, Angela appeared,

thermal container.

The rich aroma of cream and mushrooms filled the room as she removed the lid, revealing a perfectly prepared cream of mushroom

soup.

“You made this yourself?” I asked, taking the bowl she offered.

Angela raised an eyebrow. “Who else would have?”

While I ate, Angela conversed quietly with Thomas about my condition. The doctor recommends a strict diet regimen even after discharge.” Thomas explained. “No alcohol whatsoever, and regular meals are essential.”

Angela nodded, her expression professional and detached.

After I finished eating, I watched in dismay as she immediately began gathering her things.

“You’re leaving already?” I couldn’t mask my disappointment.

“I have work,” she replied coolly. “Rest well and make sure you eat lunch.” She turned to Thomas with a warning: “If he refuses to

eat, let me know. I won’t come this evening if he doesn’t.”

At noon, I watched Thomas read a message on his phone and smile,

“Ms. Wilson asked if you’d eaten lunch,” he informed me. I told her you had.”

* “What did she say?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Thomas showed me the screen: a simple “OK.”

I stared at the brief response, feeling my shoulders slump. After a mement’s hesitation, I dictated my own message to Thomas: “I ate lunch. When will you come this afternoon?”

The reply came swiftly: “After work”

Darkness had fallen by the time Angela arrived with dinner. My frustration was immediate.

“Why did it take you so long to get here?”

“Does travel not take time?” she countered evenly. “Does preparing food not take time?”

“You don’t need to cook,” I insisted. “Just coming by would be enough”

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Chapter 131: The Purpose Behind Her Care

Angela’s expression remained impassive. “You think I want to?” she replied, offering no further explanation before urging me to eat before the food cooled.

After I finished, she left will only n brief promise: “I’ll come tombardow

For the next several days, the pallen continued. Angela arrived punctually each morning and evening with carefully prepared meals -French onion soup, bisque, consommé–that progressed from liqul to semi–solid as my condition improved.

I found myself increasingly bewildered by her behavior.

She was meticulously consistent in her case the food abways nitive at the same times, prepared with evident skill–yet she seemed to avoid any real conversation or eye contact.

Even the young nurse who checked my vitals twice daily offered water smiles and friendlier chatter than Angela ever did. The contradiction gnawed at me. Why would she dedicate so much effort visiting me every day, only to treat our interactions with such cold efficiency?

It was as though she was merely fulfilling an obligation, checking tens off a list rather than visiting someone she once shared

life with.

On the fourth morning I accepted the breakfast–a hearty vegetable soup–but didn t immediately begin eating.

“Why do you keep bringing me food?” I asked directly.

Angela didn’t answer.

“Why do you c

care about my recovery?” I tried again.

“Eat first,” she replied calmly.

When I’d finished, I repeated my question. This time, Angela answered.

“It’s a transaction.”

I stared at her, uncomprehending.

want to visit Elizabeth’s grave,” she explained, her voice steady. “I need to lay flowers for her. By bringing you meals and helping with your recovery, 1 eam the right to have you take me there. That our deal”

Her words washed over me like ice water. The thermal containers, the carefully prepared meals, the consistent visits–none of it had been about concern for me. All this time, I’d been nothing more than a means to an end.

The realization cut deeper than I could have anticipated. My chest tightened with a pain that had nothing to do with my ulcers. I’d allowed myself to believe, even briefly, that her presence meant she still cared.

事

d, my voice barely audible, the hurt raw and evident. “Did you really believe I would refuse if