All Chapters of Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe night air in Milan is crisp, carrying the scent of fresh rain from earlier in the evening. Neon lights from the bars and restaurants lining the streets flicker and dance against the wet pavement, giving the city a dreamlike glow. It feels different tonight—lighter, freer. Maybe it’s because for the first time in years, I don’t have the weight of unfinished business pressing down on my shoulders.I graduated.I have a new life.And tonight, I’m going to celebrate.I adjust the strap of my dress as I step into the dimly lit bar, scanning the crowded room until my eyes land on a familiar face at one of the booths. My best friend, Penelope, is already waiting, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she waves me over.“Finally!” she exclaims as I slide into the seat across from her. “You were taking forever. What were you doing? Writing an essay on how to have fun?&r

Caroline’s Point of ViewI wake up to the soft sound of giggles.For a moment, I linger between sleep and consciousness, the warmth of the blankets making it tempting to stay curled up. But then I hear it again—light laughter, followed by the distinct sound of a spatula scraping against a pan. The scent of coffee drifts in, mingling with something warm and savory, and that’s when I realize what’s happening.Adrian is already up.I push myself up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glance toward the slightly open bedroom door. The house is filled with a quiet kind of life—soft morning sounds, the occasional clatter of dishes, and my son’s delighted giggles. It’s a scene that has played out so many times in the past three years, yet somehow, today, it feels different.Padding down the hall, I step into the kitchen and stop at the sight in front of me.Adrian stands at the stove, one hand flipping an o

Caroline’s Point of ViewI don't think of him anymore.Not when I wake up in the morning to the ring of my son's laughter. Not when I spend my days juggling work and school and the tiny, beautiful chaos of being a mother. Not even when the nights are quiet, when there is nothing but the hum of my own breathing and the soft creaking of trees outside my window.For three years, I have built something new for myself. A life that isn't haunted by the ghosts of the past.But today, his name crawls into my world like an unwelcome guest.I'm to meet Adrian and Penelope downtown at a certain café, when my babysitter cancels for me at the last minute, so I begin scrambling through a short list for someone to pick up my baby before finally turning to an older neighbor who'd watched my child a few times before. By the time I know he's in good hands, I'm already running late.It's just a short drive, but each red light, each slow walker, each tiny delay makes me more anxious. I hate being late.I

Caroline’s Point of ViewAdrian stops precisely in front of my building and at that exact moment, I'm still making last-minute stipulations for Liam's hair: smoothing down those little tufts that refuse to stay in place. He squiggles impatiently in my arms, craning his neck when he hears the warm familiar hum of Adrian's car.“Uncle Adrian!” he squeals, trying to launch himself out of my hold the moment I open the door.Adrian steps out, a grin on his face as he effortlessly catches Liam mid-air. “Hey, buddy. Excited for your big day?”Liam nods enthusiastically. “Mama says I get to go to a big-kid school!”I chuckle, adjusting the strap of my purse. “It’s just the interview, sweetheart. We have to see if they like you first.”Adrian winks at Liam. “What’s not to like? You’re the smartest kid I know.”Liam beams, clearly pleased, and I shake my head as I get into the car. As soon as we’re all buckled in, Adrian glances at me. “Nervous?”I let out a breath. “A little. I really want thi

Dolly’s Point of ViewI sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the crib where my daughter sleeps. Her breathing is soft but uneven, and every tiny movement she makes sends a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me.The doctors said she was weak, that she needed constant monitoring, that she was born fragile. She has a sickle cell anemia. It is a kind of genetic blood disorder.My hands tremble as I reach out, brushing a delicate curl away from her forehead. She looks so peaceful now, but earlier—earlier, she had screamed for hours, her little body wracked with pain I couldn't soothe.Tears well up in my eyes, and I blink rapidly, willing them away. Then, my mind goes to Knoxx.It’s been months, and still, he hasn’t said a word about marriage. Not even an empty promise. Nothing.The humiliation burns in my chest. Everyone assumes we’re already married. They call me his wife, the mother of his child, but he never corrects them, never claims me as his. He never denies it either, but that