Semua Bab The Billionaire Married Me, Then Forgot How to Love Me: Bab 21 - Bab 26

(Serena) “This place is insane,” Haylee murmurs as we step inside the restaurant. “Are you sure we’re allowed to sit in here without being genetically pre-approved?”I give her a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the reservation system runs background checks. But here we are anyway.”“Because of you and your incredible talent.”“Let’s see if I can blunder my way to a deal.”“I wore low-cut in case cleavage helps…”“You look stunning,” I whisper. “Thanks for the support.”“My breasts and I are nothing if not supportive.”I grin. “Let’s go.”I spot Ronan and Gregory already seated at a private table near the rear wall. Low lighting, heavy drapes, probably soundproofed for high-level business dinners like this one.We walk over to the table and both men stand up.Gregory greets me with a warm handshake. “Mrs. Hale, an honor. Ronan’s sung your praises.”“Please, call me Serena. This is Haylee Monroe. Good friend and business associate.”“Nice to meet you, Haylee. Can I order you ladies

(Serena)I toss and turn in bed. I’m so exhausted but I can’t sleep.All I can do is think of him rushing to her, and me telling him to go. I’m stupid. I know I am. But what else could I do? If I try and stop him, he’ll go anyway and we’ll argue more.I curl up on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his sweaters, because it still smells like him, and I need something to keep me grounded. My fingers rub the sleeve like it’s a worry stone.Savannah is in labor. Real labor. Or at least, that’s what she says. But if not today, it will be one day soon. What then?She doesn’t get the ‘blessing in disguise’, she gets the baby. She gets my husband rushing after like he’s the father, like he should be doing for me.Like he should want to do for me. But he doesn’t, he’s choosing condoms instead.She was just sitting across from me at dinner two hours ago. And now she’s headed to the hospital, while James rushes to be by her side. Because that’s who he is. A good man at heart. One who sho

(Serena)And then my eyes lock on the ornate silver tray we were given as a “Hale family heirloom.”It sits almost smugly on the hallway credenza like a trophy.I grab it and I hurl it against the wall. The crash rings out through the silence like an alarm. Like it’s accusing me of letting this happen.I am guilty. Of pretending. Of trying too hard. Of losing myself.I don't stop breaking things. I can’t. Because if I stop, I’ll think. And if I think, I’ll break in a way I won’t come back from.I move to the sitting room next.The ridiculous Baccarat vase we got from the Abernathys, James' father's friends, sits on the hall table. It’s ugly. Tall and hollow and full of nothing.Perfect metaphor.I smash it on the hardwood floor and a dark thrill races through me at the sound of it shattering. Something about seeing that perfect, now in irreparable pieces feels like honesty for once.Then the Waterford crystal decanter set, gifted by some European countess I’ll never even meet.One by