The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 56

The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire’s Ex–Wife

Chapter 56: Who’s Protecting Her Now?

Sean POV

Emily’s message flashed across my phone screen: “Angela’s in trouble. Some men tried to… Please hurry!”

My blood ran cold. The quarterly reports scattered across my desk, the conference call droning in my earpiece–none of it mattered. I ripped off my headset and grabbed my coat, already calling for the elevator.

“Caficel everything,” I barked at Michael as I strode past his desk. “Have security track Angela’s phone. Now.”

The drive to the Sapphire Hotel was a blur of red lights and honking horns.

Every second felt like an eternity.

I kept seeing Angela’s face, imagining what could have happened, what might be happening right now. Just imagining it made my hands grip the steering wheel harder.

When I finally reached the penthouse floor, my tie was loose, my suit wrinkled–a far cry from my usual polished appearance. But I couldn’t have cared less about how I looked.

All that mattered was finding her.

The sight that greeted me as I burst through the door stopped me dead in my tracks.

There she was–my wife–wrapped in another man’s embrace. The stranger’s back was to me, but I’d know that lean frame anywhere!

Nathan Harrison.

The ambitious young analyst who’d been hovering around Angela for months. The same one I’d caught her calling “baby” just days

ago.

Something primal roared to life inside me. “Angela,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. “Come here. Now.”

She turned her head, surprise flickering across her features, but made no move to leave his arms. If anything, his grip on her seemed to tighten.

I crossed the room in three long strides. Before I could even see his face clearly, my fist had already connected with his jaw. The impact sent him stumbling backward.

Then he turned around, and my blood ran cold.

“Christopher?”

Despite the punch, that familiar smile–the same one that had charmed us out of countless scrapes during our college years–spread. across my old friend’s face as he rubbed his jaw.

“Hello, Sean. Still leading with your fist, I see. Some things never change.”

My mind reeled.

Christopher Blake–my best friend from Andover, my roommate at Yale, the man who’d stood beside me through every major milestone of my adult life–was holding my wife.

“When did you…

1/3

Chapter 56: Who’s Protecting Her Now?

The words died in my throat as Christopher finally released Angela, stepping forward to clasp my shoulder warmly.

“Just got in from London this afternoon,” he explained, his British accent slightly more pronounced after his years in the City. “Imagine my surprise when I heard about the trouble at Luca’s club. couldn’t very well leave your wife in that situation, could I?”

My attention snapped back to Angela, who had moved to stand by the window, her arms crossed defensively.

“Luca?” The name came out like a growl. “What happened with Luca?

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” she replied coolly, but I noticed her unconsciously rubbing her arm. Angry red marks were beginning to form on her pale skin.

The sight of those marks made my vision blur with rage. “What did he do to you?”

“It’s been dealt with,” Christopher cut in smoothly. “My security team made sure Luca and his friends won’t be bothering anyone for a while.” He gestured to the spread of refreshments on the coffee table. “Why don’t we sit down? We have a lot to catch up on.”

But I couldn’t take my eyes off Angela. She was trying to hide it, but I could see the slight tremor in her hands, the way her

shoulders were held just a fraction too straight.

“Tomorrow,” I said firmly. “We’ll catch up tomorrow. Right now, I’m taking my wife home.”

A flash of something–concern? disappointment?-crossed Christopher’s face, but he nodded. “Of course. Dinner tomorrow then? The usual place?”

“I’ll have my assistant set it up,” I replied, already moving toward Angela. I placed my hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the door. She stiffened at my touch but didn’t pull away.

The moment we stepped into the elevator, however, she shrugged off my hand. “Emily,” she said, her voice tight with worry. “Is she okay? Where is she?”

“I told her to take a cab home,” I answered, studying her reflection in the mirrored walls. “She should be fine.”

Her laugh was bitter, cutting. “Fine? You let her go home alone after what happened?”

“She’s a grown woman, Angela. She can handle-*

“Handle what?” She turned to face me, her eyes blazing. “Do you have any idea what it’s like for a woman to go home alone after being assaulted? Do you think the fear just disappears because she’s in a cab? Because she’s reached her front door? God, Sean, how can you be so blind?”

Frustration surged through me. “No one would dare touch my employee-