The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 137

Chapter 137: At Elizabeth’s Grave

Sean boy

I stood among the weathered headstones, watching Angela from a distance. She knelt before Eltzabeth’s grave, her slender frame bent in shiel, whispering words I couldn’t hear. The gray shy hung heavy above is, mirroring the weight pressing against my chest

Thomas shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Should we wait in the car Mr. Shaw?”

“No,” I replied, my eyes never leaving Angela. “I’ll stay.”

I hadn’t seen such raw pain on Angela’s face since the day I’d found her at her father’s hospital bedside years ago. Even from this distance, I could see her shoulders shaking slightly with silent solis,

Elizabeth had meant everything to her more mather than grandmother–In–law–and I wondered if bringing her here had been a mistake. The finality of the grave might break something inside her that couldn’t be repaired.

Three years ago, as we’d lowered Elizabeth’s casket into the frozen December ground, I had hated Angela. Hated how she could be se cruel, not even coming to see Elizabeths before she died–Elizabeth, who had given her so much. But now, watching her grief–stricken face as she knelt before the grave, I couldn’t bring myself to condem her anymore.

A rumble of thunder rolled across the cemetery, echoing between the marble monuments.

Mr. Shaw, Thomas’s voice cut through my thoughts, “It looks like going to rain heavily. Should we alert Ms. Wilson?”

I glanced at the darkening sky, feeling the pressure dropping rapidly Go find some umbrellas.”

Thomas nodded and hurried toward the cemetery office near the entsince. Minutes later, he returned with two large black

umbrellas.

“Give them to me,” I said, taking both from his hands.

I approached Angela slowly, careful not to startle her. She sat on the ground now, oblivious to the mud staining her expensive Burberry coat. Her fingers traced Elizabeth’s name carved into the stone, her lips moving in silent conversation.

“It’s going to rain, I announced, my voice sounding harsher than intended.

No response.

“Angela.” I tried again.

She remained frozen, lost in her grief. The first drops of rain began fall, pattering softly on the surrounding graves. I stepped closer, opening one umbrella and holding it over her. The rain intensified quickly, drumming against the taut fabric above us.

Finally, I crouched down and gently grasped her waist, pulling her to her feet. “You need to come back now.”

taking the second umbrella from my hand.

Thomas rushed over to help, taking

“What’s the point of this?” I asked, gesturing toward the grave. “Elizabeth is gone. No amount of crying will bring her back.”

Angela’s head snapped up, her red–rimmed eyes suddenly blazing with anger. “This is all because of you. It’s your fault.”

I stared at her, confused, “What?”

“If it weren’t for you,” she spat, “I never would have left Elizabeth. I wouldn’t have missed saying goodbye to her.”

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Chapter 137: At Elizabeth’s Grave

“What are you tallding about, 9 demanded, bewildered. You were one who wanted the alvorce,”

Angela’s lough was bitter, almost hysterical. 1 wanted the divoren ?

it what yui think?:

She pushed away from ine, stepping back into the rain. I moved for rd Immediately, shielding her again and gripping her waist to prevent her retreat.

“You’ll get soaked,” I warned.

That’s none of your concern,” she replied rollly,

I caught her wrist. “Of course it’s my concern. Why don’t we just clog the air right here, in front of Elizabeth?”

Something flickered in Angela’s eyes–recognition, perhaps, that a remetery wasn’t the place for such a confrontation. Her shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining from her.

1 have nothing to say to you,” she murmured. “let’s just go.”

But I couldn’t let her words go unchallenged. “What did you mean? That you wouldn’t have left Elizabeth if it weren’t for me? What exactly are you saying?”

Her eyes met mine, cold and distant. Exactly what it sounds like. Cin’t you understand plain English?” She yanked her hand free of

my grip.

In that moment, Angela’s face went ashen. Her eyos rolled back, and the crumpled before I could process what was happening.

“Ms. Wilson!” Thomas cried out in alarm.

1 caught her before she hit the ground, her body alarmingly light in my arms. Her skin had turned a sickly pale, and panic gripped me as I felt for her pulse.

“Is she alright?” Thomas hovered anxiously, umbrella forgotten.

“Give me that,” I ordered, nodding at the umbrella he still held. I shifted Angela in my arms, cradling her against my chest as I stood.

Thomas immediately abandoned his own umbrella to hold one over, rain soaking him instantly as he hurried alongside me toward the car. My own back was getting drenched, the rain seeping through my suit jacket, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was Angela’s shallow breathing against my neck.

Once inside the car, I carefully laid Angela across the back seat, her head resting on my lap. Thomas handed me a dry towel from the car’s storage compartment, and I gently dabbed at the raindrops on her face and hair.

‘Drive to the hospital,” 1 instructed the driver.

Thomas, dripping wet himself, offered me another towel. “Mr. Shaw, your suit is soaked through. You should dry ofL”

isook the towel but continued tending to Angela, meticulously ensining over my own damp hair and shoulders.

ny she

was completely dry before finally running the cloth