Billionaire Ex Wants Her Back .

Nella's POV:I stepped out of the room in a blue sundress, my blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. As I approached the stairs, one thought consumed me: Oliver Quinn, my husband, who had left for the parking lot a while ago.He was on his way to work, and I decided to see him off, even though I knew he wouldn’t appreciate it. No matter how much effort I put in, he always glared at me with disdain."But I won’t give up. Maybe this time, seeing him off will earn me a smile," I thought, smiling widely as I prepared to step onto the first stair. Just then, I caught sight of two hands reaching out from the corner of my eye, prompting me to turn away.“Arghhh!” Caitlyn screamed as she lost her footing. I instinctively reached out, trying to grab her shoulders, but it was too late—she tumbled down the stairs.‘Was she trying to push me?’ I wondered, watching her roll until she hit the ground hard and, blood began to flow out heavily from the side of her head.“Miss Cait!” a maid called, rushin

Nella's POV:The doors were suddenly pushed open and I shut my eyes instinctively. I could hear approaching footsteps, but I continued to feign sleep. “She is still asleep.” I heard a male voice say.“What could be wrong with her?” A familiar female voice asked. “She's pregnant.” The man replied, my eyes flung open when I heard his words.‘How? When?’It finally dawned on me, the night Caitlyn's divorce was announced in the news and she had contacted Oliver for emotional support. He came back home extremely happy and drunk, and that night we had sex for the very first time. The next morning when he woke up he hated me more, he claimed that I took advantage of his drunken state to have my way with him.How did that one night together result in pregnancy?‘Oliver needs to know about this, he will come for me the moment he finds out that I am pregnant with his child.’ I thought.“She is awake.” I heard a male voice announce. Tilting my head to the side, I saw a middle aged man, dresse

Nella's POV:FIVE YEARS LATER………“Damian!” I called out, tying my hair back with a band.Where could he be? Suddenly, I bumped into someone. Looking up, I saw it was the cook.Sighing deeply, I asked, “Where is he? Please tell me you found him.”“I couldn’t find him,” she replied, her head hung low. “This house is huge; he could be anywhere. I had the maids search everywhere for him. You’ll find him soon, I promise.”“I hope so, Lola. Michael is on his way back, and he hates it when his rest is disturbed.”“Don’t worry, ma'am. We’ll definitely find him before Sir returns, trust me…”“I found him!” someone called out, and we hurried toward the voice.We entered the library and saw a maid standing by the door.“Where is he?” I asked.“Behind the third shelf,” she replied.“You both can leave now,” I instructed. “And please shut the door behind you.”I moved behind the third shelf to find the little boy crouched down, his head hanging low.“What's wrong, baby?” I asked, gently lifting h

Chapter 7Nella's point of view “ You will know soon.” He said, deciding not to tell me why he saved me, he turned his broad shoulders at me, his presence wanting me to talk but calling him would draw attention, unfortunately his actions kept me lost in thought, I had my freedom for a few days.Meanwhile, before he left he stood by the doorway with the doctor talking in low tone before he stared at me, leaving a smirk on his face, the doctor came in removing the cuffs from my hands.The rough hospital gown brushed slightly against my skin, I swinged my legs over the side of the bed, the cold tiles sending a jolt through my feet.My body ached with any slight movement, I insisted and pushed my body forward.Each step towards the door felt like sin, the air filled with bleach and drugs, the weight of the building fell on my shoulders.I stretched my hands for the door handle, my fingers brushing against the metal when a strong hand caught my arm, stopping me halfway gone.I tilted my

Nella's point of view The velvet of my dress clung to my skin, the fabric heavy with the weight of the night. The moment Michael led me through the grand entrance, the air changed, thick with whispers, camera flashes igniting the space like lightning. The scent of champagne, expensive cologne, and polished marble mixed with the tension pressing against my ribs. They were all looking at me.Every step forward felt like walking through fire, the heat of their gazes burning into my skin. The glittering hall stretched endlessly, filled with men in crisp suits and women draped in silk, their eyes flickering between Michael and me with silent speculation. Who was she? Their hushed voices coiled around me, their curiosity sharp, invasive.A swarm of reporters surged forward, their microphones extending like weapons. Questions flew like daggers. "Mr. Hills, is this your wife?" "Mrs. Hills, where have you been all these years?" "Is it true you faked your death?" Their voices overlapped, the