All Chapters of My Billionaire Husband Doesn’t Love Me: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Isabelle’s POV The sound of shattering glass ripped through the house like a gunshot. “Nathan!” My heart seized, and without thinking, I bolted toward the kitchen. Damion was right behind me, his voice sharp. “Stay behind me, Isabelle!” I didn’t listen. All I could think about was my son—my baby. The kitchen window was broken, shards of glass glittering across the floor, but it was the open back door that made my blood run cold. The wind howled through it, carrying the sound of tires screeching in the distance. He was gone. Nathan. I stumbled forward, my breath catching painfully in my chest. “Nathan! Nathan, where are you?!” Silence. The kind of silence that leaves a void, the kind that makes you realize something precious has been stolen from you. Damion’s hands caught my shoulders, pulling me back as I shook uncontrollably. “Isabelle—stop! Stop! He’s not here!” His voice was rough but controlled, his grip anchoring me as I felt like I was falling apart.

Kaia’s POV It had all started with a whisper. The first time Damion had mentioned the child, I knew something was wrong. The way his voice caught when he asked about Nathan, the way his eyes lingered on the boy as if searching for a reflection of himself—it was like watching a man unravel in slow motion. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Because I knew, deep down, that if Nathan was Damion’s son, everything I had worked for—the life I’d carefully built with him—would fall apart. So I did what I always did. I found a way to control the narrative. It hadn’t been difficult. Manipulation never was when you understood a man’s vulnerabilities. And Damion’s greatest vulnerability was his desperate need for closure. I hadn’t even needed to convince him. “It’s the only way,” I had whispered to him weeks ago, the night we’d sat in his study, the tension thick between us. “If she won’t tell you the truth, we have to find it ourselves.” And he’d agreed. But now, a

Kaia’s POV The plan was unraveling faster than I had anticipated. When Damion stormed out after returning the boy, I knew things had shifted. I felt it in the way his voice trembled when he’d confronted me. The guilt. The hesitation. He was slipping away. And it was her fault. Isabelle. Always so righteous, so defiant, making him question everything I had carefully constructed. I paced the length of my penthouse, the sound of my heels echoing off the marble floors. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered beneath the night sky, a perfect illusion of peace. But inside? Everything felt like it was closing in. Damion was supposed to be mine. I had done everything. Stood by him when his life crumbled. Cleaned up the mess after Isabelle abandoned him. I had been patient, understanding, even when he had made it clear she was still haunting him. And now? She was back, unraveling him piece by piece. And Walter—Walter was only making it worse. The call

Isabelle’s POV The kiss was a mistake. I knew it the moment it happened. But it didn’t stop me from leaning into it, from letting Damion’s hands cradle my face, from feeling that dangerous, magnetic pull he’d always had over me. It was reckless. Uncontrolled. Desperate. And then— “Isabelle?” The sound of Brian’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. I wrenched back from Damion, my breath catching as the heat between us shattered into a thousand pieces of cold, hard reality. Brian stood frozen in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes wide with shock and hurt. The papers he’d been holding slipped slightly in his hand, as if he’d forgotten he was even holding them. No. No, no, no. “Brian—” I started, scrambling to fix this, to explain— But he was already backing away, his expression hardening as he swallowed, forcing some calm into his voice. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll, uh…I’ll wait outside.” And just like that, he turned and disappeared from

Isabelle’s POV The weight of the last few days lingered like a storm cloud, heavy and unrelenting. Every time I glanced at Nathan, my chest tightened with a mixture of relief and guilt. He was home, safe, but the questions surrounding his disappearance were far from resolved. I sat at the breakfast table, watching him eat his cereal with a sleepy, half-hearted enthusiasm. His curls stuck to his forehead, and his small hands clutched the spoon like it was the most important task in the world. “Mommy?” he asked, his voice breaking through my haze. I blinked, leaning forward. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Are we going to the park today?” he asked, tilting his head. The simplicity of his request struck me. After everything, he just wanted to go to the park—back to normalcy. I wanted that for him too, but nothing about this felt normal. “We’ll see, baby,” I said gently, brushing a stray curl off his forehead. “Mommy has some things to do today, but maybe later.” His face fell slightly