The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 223

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The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire’s Ex–Wife

Chapter 223: Trapped

Angela POV

The empty coastal road stretched ahead as David drove us toward the private airport. No other cars, no people, wat darmow punctuated by occasional streetlights.

I studied David’s profile, noticing the subtle blue glow of an earpiece in his right ear.

“How much longer until we reach the airport?” I asked.

“Approximately fifteen minutes, Mrs. Wilson,” he replied, his voice mechanical and distant.

I understood immediately why David was being so formal. The earpiece meant Christopher was listening to every word, monitoring our interaction remotely.

This explained David’s cold demeanor since picking me up–he couldn’t risk showing any sympathy while being monitored.

The lack of additional security suggested Christopher’s confidence. He believed I wouldn’t try to escape, not while he held Sean. His arrogance might become a weakness I could exploit.

At the airfield, David opened my door. When I got out, he gave me a quick look that seemed meaningful, but I couldn’t tell what be was trying to say. With Christopher listening through the earpiece, I just nodded and walked to the jet.

The flight passed in tense silence. When we landed on another Mediterranean island, David approached me with his hand extended.

“Your phone, Mrs. Wilson.”

I stared at him, genuinely confused. “My phone?”

“Yes, Ms. Wilson.” His tone was firm.

“Why? You already have me here. I came willingly.” I studied his face, trying to understand. “Christopher already has Sean. What does he think I’ll do with my phone?”

David’s expression hardened. “Ms. Wilson, if you wish to see Mr. Shaw, please don’t make this difficult. The sooner you surrender your phone, the sooner we can proceed. Of course, if you prefer, we can wait here indefinitely.”

I noted the change in his demeanor. The monitoring must have resumed. With reluctance, I pulled my iPhone from my pocket and

handed it to him.

David immediately powered it down, removed the SIM card, and slipped the device into his jacket pocket. “Thank you for your

cooperation.”

In the underground parking garage of our destination, a security guard approached with something in his hands.

“Mrs. Wilson, you’ll need to wear these.” He held out a pair of blackout sunglasses.

I took them, turning the opaque lenses in my hands. “So I’m to be blindfolded? How very dramatic.”

“It’s for security purposes,” the guard explained stiffly.

I looked directly at David. “Is this really necessary? First my phone, now my sight? Is Christopher that paranoid?”

When no one responded, I continued, my voice hardening. “Perhaps you’d like to tape my mouth shut too, to prevent me from

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Chapter 223: Trapped

calling for help? Why not bind my hands while your’re at it?

The guards exchanged uncomfortable glances, clearly unprepared for my resistance.

David touched his earpiece, listening intently before addressing me Mr. Blake says the glasses won’t be necessary. We can proceed

without them.”

I dropped the sunglasses deliberately, satisfied by the small crack they made against the concrete floor. A minor victory, but I’d take

what I could get.

“Mrs. Wilson, I’m Jack Reynolds,” the new driver introduced himself David opened the car door. “I’ll be handling your transportation from here.”

Instead of sliding into the back seat as expected, I moved to the from passenger side and got in. Jack looked startled.

“Mrs. Wilson, I don’t think-”

“Have I lost the right to choose where I sit as well?” I interrupted, my voice sharp with challenge.

Jack hesitated, then touched his own earpiece briefly. “Very well,” he conceded.

Without the blackout glasses, I had a clear view of our route. I memorized street signs, landmarks, and the numbers on passing buildings. If I needed to find my way back, I would have some reference points.

After approximately an hour, we pulled up to an impressive Mediterranean villa perched on a cliff edge. The moonlight silvered its white walls, making it look almost ethereal.

“Where is Sean?” I demanded the moment I stepped out of the car.

Jack and David conferred briefly, then David nodded at me before walking back to the vehicle.

“David?” I called, suddenly worried about losing the only potential ally I had in this situation. He didn’t turn around.

“This way, Mrs. Wilson,” Jack directed, his tone devoid of emotion.

He led me through ornately carved double doors and down a marble floored hallway to a closed door.

“Where is Sean? Where is Christopher?” I stopped at the threshold, refusing to enter.

“This will be your accommodation for now,” Jack replied flatly.

Before I could press further, a high, feminine voice cut through the tension.

“So you’re finally here.”