The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 309

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 expression neutral, watching as she stood her ground, refusing to back down even as they brought up her own family troubles. urd Angela. I kept my 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 like to have your family’s broken pieces examined under the public microscope.

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

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

1/3

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 she was young–a detail I 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, so 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. I 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.

C

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.

C

“Well, make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he said, zipping his bag forcefully. “We can’t afford to lose games because you’re distracted.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. How could I explain that I was distracted by the girl from the orary? The girl who was clearly only here to see him?

By the next game two weeks later, Angela had somehow become part of the cheerleading squad. I wondered if she’d joined just to be closer to Sean during games. It seemed like something she would do she had that determination in her eyes.

Whenever she came looking for Sean after practices or games, I’d feel that same twist in my chest.

But I was also absurdly happy to see her, to be in the same room as Her, even just for a few minutes.

I told myself being friends was enough. That seeing her smile–even if that smile wasn’t for me–was enough.

Christopher POV

Sean and I graduated and went to college together. Two years later, Angela followed us to the same university.

I knew without asking why she’d chosen this school–Sean was here. She’d even selected the same economics major as him. Her dedication to following him was both admirable and painful to witness.

But her time orbiting Sean lasted only those two years.

Everything changed after the yacht party incident that became campus legend–when Christina “heroically” saved Sean from drowning. What nobody knew was that I had orchestrated the whole thing.

Christina and I had both pulled Sean from the water that night, but afterward, I gave her all the credit. I knew the blonde bombshell had her sights set on Sean, and I deliberately helped her.

Yes, I knew it would hurt Angela, but I wanted a fair chance with her Sean had only met Angela first by coincidence. His feelings for her could never match the depth of mine.

Just as I had anticipated, Christina successfully captured Sean’s attention. Day by day, I watched him drift further away from Angela, his focus increasingly consumed by the blonde beauty who had “saved his life.”

I remember the night I found Angela sitting alone outside the hockey arena, long after practice had ended. It was unusually cold for spring, and she wasn’t wearing a coat. As I got closer, I realized she was crying.

“Angela?” I said, approaching slowly.

She looked up, hastily wiping her tears away. “Christopher? What are you doing here so late?”

“Extra practice,” I explained, sitting down beside her. The scent of alcohol hit me immediately. “Have you been drinking?”

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe a little. Or a lot. can’t really remember.”

I’d never seen her like this before. Angela was always vibrant, confident–the girl who stood up to bullies in libraries and cheered the loudest at hockey games. Seeing her broken down hit me harder than I expected.

“What happened?” I asked, though I already suspected.

“Sean,” she said, confirming my thoughts. “I was going to tell him today. How I felt. That I’ve loved him since high school.” She took a shaky breath. “But when I got to his dorm, Christina was there. They were together.”

The pain in her voice made my chest ache. I wanted to pull her into my arms, to tell her Sean was an idiot for not seeing what was right in front of him. Instead, I just sat there, letting her talk.

“Six years,” she continued, her words slurring slightly. “Six years I’ve loved him, and he never once looked at me that way.”