All Chapters of Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Caroline’s POVThe room is full of eyes.It’s supposed to be a press conference for the unveiling of Wayne Corp’s new charity initiative—a last-ditch effort to fix their public image after weeks of bad PR. A crowd of reporters, employees, and stakeholders have filled the space, some with notepads, others with phones raised, waiting for their headline.I didn’t come to be polite. I didn’t come to play fair.I came for this moment.I stand off to the side, near the back, watching the stage with my arms crossed. I wasn’t invited, obviously. But I didn’t need an invitation. I have something better. Truth.Up front, Dolly Reid takes the microphone.She looks immaculate. Curled hair, fake lashes, flawless skin. Her bump is bigger now, and she places a dramatic hand on it like she’s the Virgin Mary preparing for martyrdom.I know that look. She’s about to cry.“B

Caroline’s Point of ViewBy the time I make it to the office, my head’s still spinning from last night.I didn’t expect to sleep well, and I didn’t. Not because of Knoxx—he’s finally out of my system—but because of everything I said, everything I finally let go of. There’s a strange kind of peace in knowing you’ve drawn a line and meant it.It still feels new.I’m halfway through sorting orders when I hear the click of shoes approaching. I look up just in time to see Alessandro leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, grin already tugging at his mouth.“There she is,” he says. “La mia bella designer.”I raise a brow. “It’s nine in the morning.”He shrugs. “Beauty deserves a greeting, even at ungodly hours.”I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “Do you ever turn it off?”He steps inside, the

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe shop is unusually quiet this morning.No tinkling bell from customers entering. No chatter from Penelope rearranging the displays. Just the soft whirr of the heater and the gentle clinks of tools on glass.My eyes aren’t on the silver chain I’ve been trying to polish for the last thirty minutes. They’re not even on the sketchpad beside me, where a new pendant design waits to be finished.They’re on him.Adrian.He’s sitting at the far end of the worktable, inspecting a few invoices I’d asked for help with—focused, calm, and... completely unaffected.He flips through the pages like it’s the most natural thing in the world, brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed into a firm line. His jaw flexes every time something catches his attention. I know that look. I’ve seen it before. But today—today it’s different.He hasn’t looked a

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the night. The curtains shift gently with the breeze slipping through the slightly cracked window. I’m curled under my blanket, drowsy but content. My cheeks are still warm from the wine Adrian and I shared earlier. He walked me home, held my hand the whole way. When I tried to pull him into something more, he kissed my forehead instead and told me I deserved more.God. The man is too kind. Too patient.I roll over and glance at the clock. 1:47 a.m.I should sleep, but my heart’s still fluttering from that soft look in his eyes when he said goodbye. The way his thumb brushed my knuckles. The way he hesitated before walking away, like he didn’t want to.And then—A sound. A soft creak.I freeze.At first, I think I imagined it. But then it comes again. Louder this time.The floor marbles in the hallway. I know that sound.My entire body goes rigid. I sit up slowly, heart racing so loud it drowns out everything else.

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe air is damp and cold. My skin sticks to the back of the chair I’m tied to, my wrists aching where the ropes cut into them. There’s a dull throb at the base of my skull—probably from being knocked out—but it’s nothing compared to the twist of fear in my chest.I don’t know how long I’ve been here. There are no windows in the warehouse, just faint light from a single flickering bulb above me. I keep waiting for someone to come in. Waiting for anything—another voice, footsteps, even a cough.But it’s been hours. Or maybe minutes. I can’t tell anymore.I test the ropes again. They’re tight. No give. My ankles are bound too, and the chair creaks every time I shift.Liam.The thought of my son rushes in like a knife. What if I never see him again? What if he wakes up tomorrow and I’m not there? What if no one tells him what happened? What if he grows up thinking I abandoned him?I breathe through my nose, trying to stay calm. If I break down now, I won’t think s