All Chapters of Secret Billionaire Divorcee: Chapter 271 - Chapter 280

Caroline's Point of ViewI fold Liam’s tiny jacket and place it on the bottom shelf of the built-in wardrobe. It still smells like strawberries and grass. There’s a faint ketchup stain on the cuff I missed in the wash, but it makes me smile, even now. The Hill mansion may be enormous, cold in places, full of old wood and heavier silences—but this room is starting to feel like ours. Little by little. Drawer by drawer.“Ma’am, please,” one of the maids says gently from the doorway, wringing her hands as she glances at the pile of suitcases beside me. “We’ll take care of that. You really don’t have to trouble yourself.”I glance back at her and chuckle softly. “It’s fine, really. I need the movement. It’s practically exercise.” I shoot her a reassuring smile, wiping the light sheen of sweat from my brow. “If I stay still too long, I start overthinking again.”She opens her mouth, maybe to argue, but I cut her off with a playful, “How about turning on the TV instead? I need background noi

Knoxx’s Point of View The mansion is full of noise—guards barking orders, security footage playing on loop, staff whispering in corners—but all I hear is the silence on the other end of my phone. That silence that came after Dolly hung up. That silence that shattered Caroline. It’s been hours since Liam disappeared. The power’s back on, but the air still feels suffocating. Thick with panic and something worse—dread. Like the walls of this place know something we don’t. Like the house is holding its breath along with the rest of us. Caroline hasn’t slept. She hasn’t eaten. She just keeps pacing the living room, her arms crossed tightly, her hair pulled up in a messy knot she probably doesn’t remember tying. Her eyes are rimmed red, but dry now. She’s past the tears. She’s in the stage wher

Penelope’s Point of View I always knew there was something about Lorenzo. It wasn’t obvious. He never flaunted it. Never wore arrogance like cologne or tried to dominate a room. But it was there—in the way he stood still when others fidgeted. The way he never raised his voice, only his gaze. The way people paused when he walked past. Like something in him carried weight that couldn’t be seen but could absolutely be felt. And now I know why. It’s late when I come over. Bryan fell asleep at my place after movie night, and Lorenzo texted me to bring him home. When I arrive, the front door is unlocked—something he never does—but I don’t think much of it. I walk in carrying Bryan, his little arms draped around my shoulders, his breath warm against my neck. The house is quiet. Too quiet.&n

Adrian's Point of View The scotch burns going down, but not nearly as much as my pride. I sit in my penthouse office, the city sprawling below me like a game board, and stare at the bank transfer notification on my laptop screen. Two and a half million dollars. Deposited into Caroline's account less than six hours after she threw me out of her life like yesterday's trash. Anonymous sender. Untraceable routing. Professional-grade financial laundering. There's only one person with the resources and the motivation to pull off something this sophisticated this quickly. Knoxx fucking Wayne. I drain the remainder of the scotch and slam the crystal glass on my mahogany desk. The sound echoes in the empty office, jarring and final. He thinks he's won. He thinks that his blood money can free Caroline, can

Knoxx's Point of View I've run international corporations. I've negotiated billion-dollar deals. I've faced down men who would kill me without blinking. But standing in this safe house kitchen at six in the morning, trying to figure out how to make pancakes the way Caroline likes them, I feel more out of my depth than I ever have in my life. The batter is too thick. Or maybe too thin? I add more milk, then more flour, then curse under my breath as it turns into something that looks like cement. I've never cooked for her before. Not once in the three years we were married. Back then, we had staff for that. Chefs who knew exactly how she liked her coffee, how she preferred her eggs, which fruits she'd eat and which she'd push around on her plate. I knew how to buy her expensive things. I knew how to take her to the best restaurants. I knew how to provide for her in every way except