Secret Wife Of The Billionaire のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 61 - チャプター 70

“Alessandro…” Federico’s voice was firm, but gentle, his hand pressing against his Senior brother’s back with brotherly urgency. “Everything is going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you have to believe me.”Alessandro stood still, his eyes red-rimmed, his jaw tight. The sterile hospital hallway was cold and humming with soft machinery sounds, but nothing compared to the storm raging inside him.“You guys have to fight this,” Federico continued, stepping around to face him. “No matter what it takes. For your sons. At least for them.”Alessandro blinked back the welling tears, his throat tight as he thought of Matteo and Antonio—how small their hands were in his. And Lucas… his tiny son that was dead, wires and machines that was breathing for him. He hadn't even had the chance to hold his third son properly. Just a glimpse, and a name—Lucas. Antonia’s trembling lips had whispered it just before the nurses had wheeled her away.“You have to be by Antonia’s side no mat

The house had quieted.The twins were finally asleep, curled in opposite corners of the big bed they refused to leave tonight. Alessandro had tucked them in with exaggerated kisses and soft lullabies, while Antonia watched from the doorway—silently, always silently.Now the only sound came from the occasional rustle of the wind brushing against the window panes, and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.Alessandro stepped into the bedroom they once shared with arms full of folded blankets. He paused in the doorway, seeing Antonia already seated on the bed, her back to him, her shoulders hunched slightly as though the weight of the day was only just catching up with her.He moved quietly, setting the blankets aside, and walked over to her. “Need anything?” he asked softly, unsure if the question was too much or not enough.She shook her head. “Just… a moment,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.He didn’t press. Instead, he sat beside her, close but not touching. The silence

The sun draped itself across the island like a golden shawl, lazily spilling into the villa's open windows. The sound of the ocean, distant and rhythmic, blended with the quiet laughter of two small boys chasing each other barefoot through the sand-covered patio.Antonia was in the kitchen, slicing mangoes and humming softly, while Alessandro stood at the open French doors, sipping from a glass of water and watching his sons with quiet affection. For a man who once lived for boardrooms and deadlines, these slow island mornings had become his sanctuary.Then came the sound of tires crunching over gravel.Alessandro squinted toward the front gate, his brow lifting. “We weren’t expecting anyone, were we?”Antonia shook her head, wiping her hands. “No… unless—”Before she could finish, a familiar voice rang through the stillness.“Don’t tell me my nephews have already forgotten their favorite uncle!”The twins’ heads snapped up. Matteo gasped. Antonio shrieked with joy.“UNCLE FEDERICO!!!

The park stretched across the island like a secret meadow untouched by the outside world. Wildflowers danced in the gentle breeze, and sunlight poured through the swaying palms like melted gold. For the first time in a long time, Antonia felt something close to peace.Matteo and Antonio ran a few steps ahead, their laughter ringing like chimes through the warm air. Matteo, ever the more cautious one, stayed near the cobblestone path while Antonio chased a butterfly into the grass, his curly dark hair bouncing as he moved.“Antonio, not too far!” Antonia called gently, adjusting the brim of her straw hat.“I wanna catch it, Mama!” Antonio shouted, a grin stretched across his small face. “It’s blue like your dress!”Antonia glanced down at her dress, laughing softly. “Is it?”“I’m faster than the butterfly!” Antonio declared, arms outstretched as he stumbled, then righted himself.Alessandro chuckled beside her, hands in his pockets, watching their sons with something close to reverence

The rain fell in a steady rhythm over the Cortez estate that night. Soft, mournful, like the sky itself was grieving something lost long ago.Beatrice sat alone in her old bedroom, the one untouched by time. The satin walls were still lavender, her mother’s favorite color. Her childhood desk stood beneath the window, the corner chipped from the day she flung a silver picture frame across it. She could still remember the sound it made when it shattered—the day her world cracked apart with it.A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts, but she didn’t answer. The servant left a tray outside anyway.She stayed seated, her fingers gripping the edges of a photo album she hadn’t opened in years. Dust clung to its spine like it was afraid to let go.With trembling hands, she flipped it open.Her mother’s face stared back at her.Lucia Marín.Warm brown eyes, full of mischief and light. A smile that reached into the bones. Beatrice’s breath caught.She remembered the sound of her mother