All Chapters of Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Chapter 221 - Chapter 230

Caroline’s Point of View The late afternoon sunlight spills through the back window, slanting in golden lines across the hardwood floor of the shop’s backroom. It’s warm—the kind of warmth that settles in quietly, wrapping around everything without asking permission. Liam is on the floor, lying on his stomach with his little legs bent at the knees, feet kicking idly in the air. He’s coloring. Completely lost in it. His tongue pokes out just slightly from the corner of his mouth the way it always does when he’s focused. There's a little crease between his eyebrows—another familiar expression I’ve memorized without meaning to. He doesn’t notice me standing in the doorway. He hums softly. A quiet, absent sound, like he’s keeping himself company in his head. And for a few seconds, I don’t say anything. 

Caroline’s Point of ViewI’m not looking for it. I swear I’m not.I’m only sorting through old sketches in the back of the shop—stuff I shoved into envelopes months ago when I needed space and didn't want to think. There's a whole pile of them, yellowing papers filled with half-done designs, unpolished ideas, and lists of gemstones that never arrived.Penelope must have reorganized them at some point because everything’s a mess, and not the kind I remember making. I sigh and pull open the largest envelope.And it slips out.A photograph.At first, I almost throw it back in without a second glance. It's just one more thing in a mountain of things. But something about the edge—it looks glossy, new. Not part of my design work.I pause. Dust clings to the corner of the picture, and I brush it away without thinking.Then I flip it over.My breath catches in my throat.It’s a candid shot—probably from a gala. One of those formal events I hated but Knoxx insisted I attend.“You need to show

Caroline’s Point of View The doorbell chimes as I finish reorganizing a tray of sapphire rings, the soft jingle breaking the quiet hum of music playing in the shop. I glance up, immediately smiling as a man walks in, dressed in a neatly pressed blazer and holding a folded list in his hand. He looks like he’s in his early forties—salt-and-pepper hair, glasses, kind face. “Hi there,” I say, wiping my hands on the side of my apron. “Looking for something specific?” He chuckles, lifting the folded paper. “I’m trying to get a birthday gift for my wife. I… uh, tried asking her what she wanted and got a ‘surprise me’ in return. So here I am.” I grin. “Dangerous words, ‘surprise me.’ That’s code for ‘you better get it right.’” He laughs, the warm, dad-joke kind of laug

Caroline’s Point of ViewThe car ride to my father’s estate is quiet. Liam hums now and then, eyes glued to his tablet, legs swinging in rhythm. He’s relaxed. I’m not.It’s been too long since I last visited. My father never says anything about it—not over the phone, not in passing. He’s not the type to guilt-trip or hint. But he notices. He always notices.I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as the familiar gate comes into view—tall, black iron, flanked by brick pillars that haven’t aged a day. The house stands still and stiff, exactly how I remember it. Unchanging. Unyielding.“Are we at Grandpa’s?” Liam asks, already squirming out of his seatbelt.“Yes,” I say, keeping my tone light. “We’re here.”Before I even reach the steps, the front door opens. My father stands there, straight-backed, hands clasped behind him, wearing the same charcoal sweater and dark slacks. His face is unreadable, sharp eyes flicking to me and then to Liam.“Grandpa!” Liam barrels forward, arms wide.My

Caroline’s Point of View The drive home is quiet. Liam dozes off in the back seat not long after we leave my father’s estate, hugging his sketchpad to his chest. The radio hums softly, but my mind isn’t listening. It’s stuck on last night. Adrian’s voice still lingers in my head—the cold edge in it, the way he didn’t even try to say goodnight properly. I can’t tell if it was just a bad day for him or if it was something bigger. Something shifting. And now my father wants me to move back in. Just like that. Like I could pack up my life and pretend I’m still his little girl sleeping in the guest wing. It’s too much. Too fast. Too many changes pressing in at once. I pull into the driveway slowly, parking in my usual spot. I take a second to breathe and glance in the mirror to check if Liam’s still