Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire’s Forgotten Wife: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air like a warning as Juliette walked down the stark white hallway of St. Regis Private Hospital. The marble floors glinted under the dim lighting, cold and glossy - like the past she thought she’d buried.She had used a fake name - “Clara Winslow”. It had taken two favors and a quiet bribe to a nurse at the front desk to find out which room Damon Thorne was in. It wasn’t a plan; it was instinct, driven by a chaos of emotions she hadn’t let surface in five years.She told herself she came to make sure he was really alive. To find closure. To see for herself that the man who’d shattered her world had survived a crash he never should’ve been in.But none of those explanations quieted the storm in her chest as she stood outside his room. Her hand hovered over the doorknob. She could walk away. No one would know except Mason.Her son had stared at the TV screen, pointed at Damon, and whispered with the eerie calm of a child touched by something

Juliette didn’t wait for Celeste to gather her wits. The second Mason's voice echoed down the sterile corridor, she lunged forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the emergency exit with the urgency of a woman being hunted.“Mommy, who was that lady?” Mason asked, his small legs struggling to keep up as Juliette yanked open the stairwell door.“She’s no one, baby,” Juliette breathed, guiding him down two flights in silence. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the rhythmic thudding of their descent. “We have to go.”Juliette didn’t stop until they reached the underground parking garage, her lungs burning and her hands trembling as she secured Mason in his booster seat.She slid into the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Across from her, the exit gate blinked its red eye, waiting for her to move.“Mommy…” Mason’s voice was quieter now. “Did I do something bad?”Juliette turned, her heart splintering at the sight of his wi

The sketch haunted him.Long after Damon left Juliette’s boutique, the image of the woman in the wedding dress ’her’ — followed him like a shadow through the streets of Manhattan. Her eyes, hand-drawn in charcoal, felt like they had stared straight into the center of his fractured soul.He tried to rationalize it. A coincidence. An artist’s habit. A clever name and a familiar face. But nothing added up. And when that child — Mason – had said “Daddy”...Damon pressed a hand to his temple as a sharp pain flickered through his skull. The pounding behind his eyes had returned, fiercer now, like a storm demanding to be remembered.He closed his eyes.And the memories came.Not clearly. Not completely.But in jagged flashes, like scenes torn from a film reel.Laughter. A woman’s soft voice calling his name.A beach. Waves. Her hair whipping in the wind.A ring. A hand in his. “Forever, Damon.”He gasped and staggered against the doorway of his penthouse suite.Was it real? Or just some coma

The chime above the boutique door echoed like a warning bell.Juliette didn’t have to look up to know it was him.Damon.The air shifted the moment he entered. His footsteps were slow, hesitant but steady. Her back stiffened as she adjusted a display of handmade scarves that didn’t need fixing. Her heart pounded like a war drum in her chest.“Juliette,” he said softly.She closed her eyes. Her name on his lips felt like a ghost brushing over her skin — unfamiliar, yet unmistakably familiar.She turned, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “You shouldn’t be here.”He ignored that. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”“I don’t know what you mean,” she deflected, stepping behind the counter for a false sense of distance.But he wasn’t buying it.“That sketchbook. The picture. The way Mason looks at me. I feel like I’m walking through memories that don’t belong to me — but they do, don’t they?”“Damon…”“Did we love each other?” he asked, voice rough with disbelief and something dangerously cl

“Are you my daddy?”The question lingered in the air like a loaded gun, silencing everything.Damon’s breath caught. The world stopped spinning. And Juliette — her face drained of all color.Mason looked between them, confused but hopeful, tiny hands wrapped around his dinosaur plush like it could protect him from what came next.Juliette’s voice cracked as she knelt. “Mason, sweetheart, it’s time to go home.”“But—”“Now.”She scooped him into her arms and turned her back on Damon without a word, rushing into the back room of the boutique and shutting the door behind her.Damon didn’t move.He couldn’t.That child… that boy… was his.He knew it. He knew it.He had felt it in his gut from the first time they’d met. But now it wasn’t just instinct or dreams or haunting familiarity.It was truth.And Juliette had run from it.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ten minutes passed before she returned.Mason was asleep in the backroom.