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38. Sprinkles and Gossip With Baby Daughter
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2025-06-18 22:30:14
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The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 111: Guilt
Ella’s Point of ViewThe days dragged on, each one a slow, heavy blur, like wading through molasses. The apartment, with its creaking floors and mismatched furniture, was a far cry from the Hayes mansion’s grandeur, but it was ours—mine, Lily’s, and Emerson’s. I filled the hours with routine: hospital shifts, grocery runs, bedtime stories, anything to keep my mind from wandering to Shawn. But he was there, in every quiet moment, his tired eyes, his warm laugh, the way he’d held me like I was his anchor. I’d thought love was a myth after Marcus’s betrayal, after Vanessa’s blond hair and whispered lies tore my world apart. But Shawn had rebuilt me, piece by piece, only for me to shatter it again by walking away. The guilt was a weight, a stone lodged in my chest, and no amount of routine could dislodge it.Lily was my light, her giggles a fleeting reprieve from the ache. Shared custody with Marcus was a new rhythm—his car pulling up every few days, his smile cautious but genuine as he
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 110: With Honor
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe office was a fortress of glass and steel, the Chicago skyline sprawling beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows, but it might as well have been a prison. Papers littered my desk—financial reports, shareholder analyses, emails from the board—each one a lifeline to the company my father built, the legacy I was fighting to save. But my eyes kept drifting, unfocused, the numbers blurring into memories of Ella’s smile, Lily’s laugh, the warmth of their presence that had once made the Hayes mansion a home. Now, days after they’d left, the house was a crypt, every room echoing with their absence—the creak of Lily’s rocking chair, the faint scent of Ella’s lavender perfume on the pillows. I gripped my pen, the metal cold against my palm, willing myself to focus, to bury the ache in work, but it was like trying to hold water in my hands.The past week had been a haze, each day heavier than the last. I’d thrown myself into the fight against Cliff and Garrett, my great-un
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 109: The Best Decision
Ella’s Point of ViewThe apartment smelled of fresh coffee and toast, the morning light filtering through the downtown windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. It was smaller than the mansion, its walls plain, the furniture mismatched, but it felt like a refuge, a place where Lily and I could breathe, away from the weight of Shawn’s world and the Hayes family’s schemes. Emerson had left early, his keys jangling as he slipped out to run errands, his quiet satisfaction at our departure from the mansion lingering in the air. I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, the sizzle a soft rhythm that grounded me, my heart heavy but determined to make this new life work. Lily sat at the small kitchen table, her crayons scattered, her teddy bear propped beside her plate, her curls bouncing as she hummed a tune.I set a pancake in front of her, its golden surface dotted with blueberries, and ruffled her hair, my fingers lingering on her soft curls. “Eat up, sweetheart,” I said,
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 108: Nowhere To Run
Shawn’s Point of ViewThe taillights of Ella’s car faded into the night, red pinpricks swallowed by the city’s sprawl, leaving me rooted to the mansion’s driveway, my chest hollowed out like a gutted shell. The air was sharp, biting at my skin, the distant hum of traffic a faint pulse against the silence that enveloped me. Ella was gone—taking Lily, taking the future I’d dared to dream of—and I stood there, powerless, my hands empty, my heart a wreckage of unanswered questions. Her tearful “I’m sorry” echoed in my mind, her trembling voice a ghost that haunted the darkness, but I couldn’t chase her, couldn’t force her to stay when her eyes had held such finality. My cane leaned against the porch railing, forgotten, its absence a reminder that I didn’t need it anymore—physically, at least—but tonight, I felt like I’d collapse without something to hold me up.Sidd, my butler, stepped quietly from the shadows, his weathered face etched with concern, his footsteps soft on the gravel. “
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 107: The Hardest Decision
Ella’s Point of ViewThe air in Lily’s room was thick, heavy with the weight of Shawn’s broken gaze and the half-packed suitcase at my feet. His eyes, raw with pain, searched mine, begging for answers I couldn’t give, his voice trembling as he asked, “Don’t you love me?” My heart splintered, each word a shard embedding deeper, but I couldn’t stay, couldn’t let my presence be the weapon that destroyed him. The suitcase’s zipper rasped shut, a final sound that echoed like a door closing on the life we’d dreamed of. Lily’s teddy bear stared blankly from the bed, its button eyes a silent witness to my unraveling. I wanted to hold Shawn, to erase the hurt I’d caused, but every second in his presence was a reminder of the choice I’d made—to protect him, to protect Lily, even if it meant tearing my own heart apart.“I need to talk to you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my hands trembling as I gestured toward the hallway. “Somewhere Lily won’t hear.” Shawn nodded, his jaw tight,
The Billionaire's Ex-wife Never Looks Back 106. The Unexpected Happened
Shawn’s Point of ViewElla’s words hit like a freight train, the soft “I can’t” slicing through me sharper than any blade. I was still on one knee, the velvet box trembling in my hand, the diamond ring catching the candlelight like a cruel mockery of the future I’d envisioned. Her eyes, glistening with tears, held a pain I couldn’t fathom, and before I could process it, she was gone—her black dress a fleeting shadow as she fled the restaurant, the door swinging shut behind her. The soft piano notes faltered, the murmurs of nearby diners swelling into a hum of whispers, their glances pricking like needles. I knelt there, frozen, the air sucked from my lungs, my mind a storm of disbelief. She said no? Ella said no?The restaurant’s warmth turned stifling, the flicker of candles now a taunt, the clink of wine glasses a hollow echo. I stood slowly, my legs unsteady, the ring box snapping shut in my hand, its weight a stone in my pocket. My heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against my ribs
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