The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire's Ex-Wife novel Chapter 98

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The Secret Pregnancy of the Billionaire’s Ex–Wife

Chapter 98: Reconnecting

Sean Pov

Evening shadows stretched across my presidential

The Plaza as I stared out at the Manhattan skylin

The city lights were beginning to twinkte to life, a tapestry of artificial stars spreading out beneath the darkening sky. Id loosened my tie hours ago, but hadn’t bothered to change out of my suit despre returning from the business meeting nearly two hours

A soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.

“Mr. Shaw?” Thomas entered with that practiced deference that reminded me how much I missed Michael. Five years, and I still wasn’t used to his replacement. “Your dinner has arrived,”

“Just leave it there,” 1 murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the side table.

“Sir, you haven’t eaten all day,” Thomas pointed out, setting down the tray with careful precision. “And Dr. Carter was very cleat about taking your medication with lood.”

I sighed, finally turning from the window. The silver dome covering the plate gleamed in the soft lamplight, but the thought of food only intensified the dull ache in my stomach.

I’m not hungry.”

“Mr. Shaw,” Thomas tried again, concern evident in his voice, “your condition won’t improve if you don’t maintain regular meals Perhaps just a few bites?”

“Fine,” I conceded, more to end the conversation than from any desire to eat. “I’ll try some of it later.”

Thomas nodded, relieved to have extracted even this small promise.

“Your medication is beside the water glass, sir. And should I confirm your attendance at tomorrow’s charity gala? Mr. Lawrence has called twice to personally request your presence.”

At the mention of another social obligation–another evening of meaningless small talk and strategic networking–I felt a familiar weariness settle deeper into my bones. Tell her I’ll try to make an appearance.”

Once Thomas retreated, I loosened my tie further and sank into the armchair by the window. My phone buzzed on the side table, and I reached for it automatically, expecting another email from the office.

Instead, I found a notification from Instagram–LittleChefsTuscany had gone live. Something inside me softened before I could stop

Five years,

Five years since she’d disappeared without a trace, taking with her any chance of understanding what had gone wrong.

Five years of throwing myself into work, of building Shaw Group higher and higher, as if reaching some invisible threshold might finally fill the emptiness shed left behind.

I tapped on the notification, watching as the screen filled with

th the image of a sunlit kitchen. Two children in oversized chef hats were arranging ingredients on a marble countertop.

“Welcome everyone! the li

the little girl–Aria–announced with theatrical flourish. “Today we’re making seafood risotto!

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Chapter 98: Reconnecting

Her brother–than- nodded solemnly beside her, already measuring ice with careful precision.

“It’s one of Mama’s special recipes,” he added, his voice carrying that endearing formality

that age

reminded me strangely of myself at

I stumbled across their account six months ago during a particularly bleak night. Something about these children–their unself- conscious joy, their earnest approach to their cooking “show“-had clight my attention and held it.

In a world of carefully curated content, their authenticity shone through

The boy’s methodical precision and the girls effervesceul personality provided a contrast that was both familiar and captivating.

As the livestreant was ending, Aria said, “Moms tells us we need to eat properly and stay healthy. Enjoy your meal today, everyone!

After hearing her say this, I couldn’t help but reach for my dinner tray and start eating.

Just after I had finished taking a shower, there was a knock at the door. I thought it was hotel service, but when I opened the door, I saw a woman in revealing, provocative clothing standing there.

She wore a Sheer black lace slip dress, so short it barely covered the tops of her thighs, her cleavage a deep shadow beneath the flimsy fabric

“Good evening, sir,” she purred, her voice low and sultry, sliding into my ears like velvet. “I’m a special gift from Mr. Lawrence, here to help you unwind tonight. Her eyes locked onto mine, shimmering with brazen intent.

I frowned, immediately understanding who or what she was. “No, thank you,” I said curtly, turning to close the door.

But she was quicker. One slender arm shot out to brace the doorframe, her body leaning forward until her chest neatly brushed against my shirt.

“Don’t be so quick to say no,” she giggled, “You’ve had a long day, haven’t you? I know exactly how to make you feel good…

Her movements grew bolder. The hem of her dress rode up as she swayed her hips, revealing the curve of her thighs and the faint outline of her ass beneath the fabric.

She reached up and tugged at one thin strap of her dress, letting it slip off her shoulder. The material fell away, exposing one full breast, the nipple faintly visible through the lace.

“See? I’m here just for you. Are you really going to turn down such a nice gift?–

I inhaled sharply, forcing down the irritation rising in my chest, and grabbed her wrist, pushing her back firmly.

“I said no. Please leave,” I stated, my voice cold and final.

“Alright, sir, you’re breaking my heart,” she teased, slowly adjusting her dress back into place. If you change your mind, you know

where to find me.”

As she left, I pressed a hand against my abdomen, feeling the familiar burning sensation intensify. The encounter taste in my mouth that had nothing to do with food

er had left a sour

Is this what business had become in my world?