HER BILLIONAIRE'S SECOND CHANCE

Nadia's Pov "You need to sign these."I looked up from my laptop to find my husband standing in the doorway of what used to be our shared study. Julian Ashford, tech mogul, perpetual absence, the man I'd married six years ago in a cathedral filled with strangers. He held a manila folder like it contained quarterly reports instead of the end of our marriage."Now?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded."I have a flight to Singapore in two hours." He didn't step inside, just stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, checking his Rolex. Always checking that damn watch, as if every second with me was time stolen from something more important.I stood, my hands trembling as I reached for the folder. Divorce papers. I'd asked for them three weeks ago, sitting across from him at the dining table we'd used maybe five times in six years. I'd rehearsed a speech about incompatibility and wanting different things, but he'd cut me off."Fine," he'd said. "I'll have my lawyers draw somethi

Nadia's Pov I slammed the door in his face.My hands shook as I leaned against it, heart hammering. How did he know? I'd been so careful. Used my maiden name at the doctor's office, paid cash for everything, avoided anywhere he might see me."Nadia, open the door." Julian's voice was calm, controlled. The same tone he used in board meetings."Go away.""We need to talk about this.""There's nothing to talk about." I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling the baby kick. She always kicked when I was stressed, like she could sense my anxiety. "The divorce is almost final. You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me.""That was before I knew you were carrying my child."Of course. The baby changed everything for him, didn't it? Not because he cared about being a father, but because Julian Ashford never left loose ends. A child was a liability, something that needed to be managed, controlled."Please," he said, and the word sounded foreign in his mouth. Julian didn't say pleas

Nadia's Pov The waiting room was too bright, too cheerful, with its pastel walls and parenting magazines. I sat with my hands folded over my stomach, trying to ignore Julian sitting beside me in a chair clearly too small for his frame.He'd arrived exactly on time, carrying two coffee cups."Decaf," he'd said, offering me one. "With cream, no sugar. That's how you take it, right?"I stared at him, surprised he remembered. Then I realized he probably didn't remember he'd probably asked his assistant to find out."I can't have coffee," I'd said. "Caffeine restrictions."He'd looked genuinely confused. "But you're holding a cup from the coffee shop downstairs yesterday when I’’ He stopped. "You were watching me from the window. You had coffee.""It was hot chocolate." I'd taken the cup anyway because it was warm and my hands were cold. "But thank you."Now we sat in silence while other pregnant women came and went with their partners, their mothers, their friends. Support systems I didn

Nadia's POVOne night turned into three, then a week. Julian slept on my couch, made breakfast, drove me to appointments, and worked from my tiny kitchen table. Margaret raised her eyebrows but said nothing.On day eight, I woke up to voices in the living room.She needs a better setup, Julian was saying. "The stairs alone are a risk."She won't leave this place. Margaret's voice. "I already suggested it. She said no.""Then I'll make it work here."I got up, ignoring the dizziness, and found Julian on the phone pacing my living room.I don't care about the cost. Install it today. He hung up and saw me. "You're supposed to be resting."What are you installing?A stair lift. And a hospital-grade bed for better elevation. Dr. Chen recommended it."No.""Nadia.""This is my apartment, Julian. You don't get to renovate it without asking."His jaw tightened. Fine. I'm asking. Can I please install equipment that might save your life?I hated that he was right. "The stair lift is ugly.""I

Nadia's POVThe first week home was chaotic. Elise woke every two hours screaming. I couldn't lift her properly because of my incision. Julian didn't know how to burp her. Margaret intervened constantly, showing us how to swaddle, how to check her temperature, how to tell the difference between hungry cries and tired cries."You're both overthinking this," Margaret said on day three, finding us frantically googling "baby won't stop crying" at two AM. "She's fed, changed, and healthy. Sometimes babies just cry.""But what if something's wrong?" Julian asked."Then we call the pediatrician. But right now, she's fine. You two need sleep."She took Elise and shooed us toward the bedroom. Julian started to leave."Whre are you going?" I asked."Guest room. You need rest.""Julian, we're both exhausted. Just sleep here."He hesitated, then climbed into bed beside me, careful to keep distance between us. We lay there in the dark, listening to Margaret humming to Elise downstairs."I don't kn