All Chapters of The Billionaire Married Me, Then Forgot How to Love Me: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

(Serena)His mouth crushes mine, hot and demanding, the same way it always was…James at his most raw.For a second my body remembers what it’s like to be undone by him.My pulse rockets, my thighs ache to part for him, my skin prickles with the memory of a nights he owned me sexually and I let him.But not this time. I hit the remote control that operates all the blinds. Now no one can see in.I turn and shove him back against the island and grip his shirt until the buttons strain. “Stop thinking you’re in control here,” I snap, breathless, lips wet from him. “If we’re doing this, it’s my way.”His eyes flare… dark, sharp, predatory. For once, I’m not the girl being kissed into silence. I’m the woman deciding exactly how far this goes.I grab his hand, drag it up, and flatten his palm over my chest, right where my heart hammers. “You want this? Fine. But tonight you’re not my husband. Not the savior. Not the broken billionaire trying to patch holes with money.”He stares at me.“You’r

(Serena)Eight Weeks LaterI wake before the alarm and check my calendar while the coffee drips.A bakery check-in, a call with Sabine about a Paris photo shoot, and the Hearts for Tomorrow dinner tonight.Two months have gone fast. The crisis days are over.Life feels normal… full, structured, mine.James crosses my mind less and less. If he does, it’s a passing thought that doesn’t derail the day.By eight I’m in the car, windows up against the heat, voice notes running.Update the wholesale pie schedule.Confirm the Dulce de Leche supplier.Ask legal about the new pop-up terms.Ask Haylee what color she’s wearing and time details for tonight’s event.Okay, the last one I can do now.She replies with a selfie of a black dress and a time stamp: doors at six, donor cocktails at six thirty, dinner at seven.The back door of the bakery sticks in the heat.Inside, ovens blast, timers beep, the morning rush hums.Jules spots me first and lifts a tray above his head like a trophy. “Look at

(Serena)She’s beautiful. The woman he’s with.Haylee clocks the tension in my shoulders before I can smooth it out. “Hey,” she leans in, her voice pitched low over the beat. “You’re fine. Pretend he’s just wallpaper.”“I’m okay, really.”I’ve never seen her before but there would be a reason he is here with her.James doesn’t do random. And he definitely does not do random clubbing.Haylee nudges me under the table. “Don’t.”“I’m not,” I say. My smile stays fixed.Because I’m not. Not really.I feel it, of course I do, but I’m not going to let him, or Savannah, or anyone from my past derail my life again.I just need more emotional distance from it all. That comes with time.I laugh at something Jack says, lift my glass, and clink it against Ben’s, acting like James Hale walking into my Friday night means nothing.On the inside my chest aches. On the outside I’m the picture of calm.Eventually James’ eyes sweep the room and land on me.The recognition is immediate. He tips his chin.

(Serena)My parents sit across from me at the island.It’s the kind of quiet you have before someone says something they’ve been waiting to say for a while, and I’m braced for sparks.“Alright,” I say, folding my arms. “I’m here. Say your truth.”Mom smooths her dress down over her knees, eyes flicking up and away again. Dad looks nervous.Finally, Mom speaks. “We weren’t good back then.”“That’s the understatement of the century. But I get how hard it would’ve been.”“Both our parents were very strict. We didn’t listen. We fooled around and I got pregnant.”“They told us we’d never make it. They told us how hard it would be, and they told us we never got to go back home when shit never worked out,” Dad says.“But we loved each other. We knew better. We’d work hard and everything would be amazing,” Mom continues.“But it was just like they said. It was Hell most of the time. But we ended up pregnant again.”Mom’s tense, but she nods. “We fought. Too much. We drank too much because we

(James)Sunday morning.I should be at home, asleep, or maybe running along the river with my headphones in.Normal people rest on weekends. But I’m not normal people. I’ve never been.The company building hums even on Sundays, because I built it that way.I don’t want a company that stops when the calendar says off-duty.I want momentum, people who show up because they believe in what we’re building.There’s a handful of us here.I’m in my office reviewing drone division performance.Chopper Rick’s field reports read like war stories… wires fried, software lag midair, a hard landing that totaled one prototype but he found it’s limits. The man is like a dog with a bone. He never gives up.That’s what I want. Brutal honesty. Failures we can learn from.My weekend assistant knocks lightly before pushing the door open. “Nico Morel-Hale to see you. Sir.”I don’t look up. “Send him in.”Unexpected but not unwelcome. We’ve never really had a chance to talk about any of this. Not properly.A