The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 292

The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire’s Ex–Wife

Chapter 292: The First Time I Saw Her

Christopher POV

I was seventeen when I first saw Angela Wilson.

That day, I just wanted some peace in the school library. The scandal about my father and that stripper had been plastered across every newspaper and gossip site for weeks. I pulled my hoodie up, hoping no one would recognize me.

Two girls were whispering behind a bookshelf nearby, not bothering to keep their voices down.

“Can you believe his dad got caught with that stripper?” one of them said, giggling.

“In a hotel lobby, no less. Talk about tacky,” the other replied.

I gripped my book tighter, staring at the same page I’d been trying to read for the past fifteen minutes. I wasn’t going to engage. What was the point? I couldn’t shut everyone’s mouth in the school, let alone the entire city.

“I heard the mom tried to kill herself after,” the first girl continued, her voice dropping lower but still audible. Apparently she found out through TMZ. Can you imagine?”

My knuckles turned white around the edges of the book. That part wasn’t public knowledge. Someone’s parents must work at the hospital.

“Like father, like son, right?” the second girl said. “I bet that Christopher kid is just as messed up.”

I closed my eyes, trying to block out their voices. I’d heard worse. The tabloids had been relentless, digging up every piece of dirt

they could find on my family.

“That’s enough.”

A new voice cut through the whispers–firm, clear, unfamiliar. I glanced up to see a girl I’d never noticed before standing at the end of the bookshelf, amber eyes blazing with indignation.

“Do you two have nothing better to do than spread gossip about someone else’s family tragedy?” she demanded.

The two girls quickly turned their attention to her instead, shifting their gossip and cruel comments toward Angela. I kept my expression neutral, watching as she stood her ground, refusing to back down even as they brought up her own family troubles. Something about the way she held herself–chin high, eyes steady–told me she was used to this kind of battle.

I finally decided I’d heard enough. Standing up to my full height, I stepped out from behind the bookshelf and gave them a cold stare that made them both freeze. They gathered their things and left quickly, muttering something about “damaged goods sticking together” as they hurried away.

When they were gone, Angela turned to me with a small, apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “Some people have nothing better to do.

I studied her face, noticing how her eyes–the exact same shade of amber as mine–held no pity, just understanding. That’s when I realized she wasn’t just defending a stranger; she was defending someone who might understand what it felt lik family’s broken pieces examined under the public microscope.

have your

“Thanks,” I replied simply. “But you didn’t have to do that.”

She shrugged. “Maybe not. But sometimes it’s nice to know someone’s in your corner.”

1/2

Chapter 292: The First Time I Saw Her

With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing among the library shelves before I could even ask her name.

I learned it soon enough, though. Angela Wilson. Daughter of John Wilson, the Investment banker. Mother who’d left when the was young–a detail 1 filed away, understanding now why she’d reacted so strongly to those girls,

I couldn’t stop thinking about her after that day. Those amber eyes, like mine. The way she’d stood up to those girls without hesitation. I wondered if I’d see her again.

The second time I saw Angela was at one of Sean’s hockey games. By then, Sean and I had been teammates for almost a year. 1 hadn’t mentioned the library incident to him–it seemed trivial, and talking about it would mean acknowledging how much her brief defense had meant to me.

I noticed her immediately in the stands, even though the arena was packed. She was wearing a blue scarf–our school colors–and she never took her eyes off the ice. Or rather, off Sean.

The way she watched him was unmistakable. Every time he had the puck, she’d lean forward. When he scored, she jumped to her feet, cheering louder than anyone around her. During the break between periods, she somehow made her way down to the bench. handing Sean a towel and a water bottle, laughing at something he said.

I felt something twist in my chest. Of course she was here for Sean. Everyone was always here for Sean. Star player, team captain, popular and charismatic Sean Shaw.

My game that night was terrible. I missed passes, fumbled the puck, got checked into the boards twice because I wasn’t paying attention. We lost by three goals.

“What the hell was that?” Sean demanded afterward in the locker room, throwing his gloves into his bag. “You played like you’d never held a hockey stick before.”

“Bad day,” I muttered, not meeting his eyes.