บททั้งหมดของ Mr Billionaire's Borrowed Wife: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

Nicholas’ POVTen in the morning and the Bali sun still burned like it had a grudge. I stood on the upper balcony of my own wedding venue, cigarette in hand.Guests began to pour in, draped in designer gowns and painted faces. Strings floated through the air, weaving with the crash of waves. But Vittoria hadn’t arrived.What gnawed at me more was that my eyes kept straying to another woman.“How many today?” Ares, my best friend, leaned against the wall.Brady, my best friend too, chuckled under his breath. “You know, most grooms look nervous, but Nick looks like he’s headed to a funeral.”I exhaled smoke into the heavy tropical air. “Shut up.”Ares lifted his glass and took his time with the scotch. “Are you sure about this? I know you’re stubborn, but marrying into the Alferis—”“Vittoria.” My gaze cut to him. “Her name’s Vittoria. And I love her.”What I didn’t admit was that I wasn’t even sure when exactly I’d fallen for her. Everything after the accident blurred. But she’d been t

Nicholas raised an eyebrow.His face didn’t move, almost like it had turned to stone. For a second, he looked like one of those marble statues in a European museum, completely baffled by the small, frizzy-haired creature accusing him of being a Turkish soap opera actor.I grimaced. Ugh.“She’s... dramatic,” I said, shrugging. “Sorry about that.”He didn’t answer. He just stared at me for a moment with this blank expression full of unspoken questions, then gave a slow nod and turned to walk to his car without saying a word.Good.I let out a long breath and stepped back into the house before Sienna could scream “I don’t like him,” again with that tiny voice beating me to it.Sienna was standing in the living room, her chubby arms crossed over her chest. Her mermaid costume was still dragging behind her on the floor, and her pacifier dangled lazily from a ribbon, glittering above her adorably bloated belly. Next to her, Sushi, our chubby cat, was lying on his back, legs sprawled open.

I walked back into the kitchen, my heartbeat still a mess after Nicholas said his chest felt... strange. I bit down on my tongue to stop myself from screaming, That’s your kid you tried to throw away, you idiot!The skillet was still warm. Pancakes stacked neatly on a plate, eggs glistening under a touch of butter. I started plating everything onto a big serving dish. My hands moved on autopilot, adding slices of avocado, a bit of shredded cheese, a sprinkle of sea salt.Then I opened the upper cabinet and grabbed the one extra thing I only ever made when my mood was stable enough to handle it: cheesy arepas with Tabasco and honey. An absurd combo.But so was I. A walking contradiction that somehow stayed standing after life tried to blow me to pieces.Behind me, I heard a chair scrape. I didn’t have to look. That I-own-the-world aura was too familiar. Nicholas sat down at the dining table like he owned the house. Or at least, like he owned me and my kid on some absurd short-term cont

The SUV glided smoothly past the automatic gates, rolling into a private area where, somehow, the air itself felt more expensive. This wasn’t your average airport. No flight delay announcements. No sweaty people hauling plastic suitcases. No screaming children fighting over window seats.Just a stretch of quiet concrete and… a plane.Not a regular plane, of course. A matte black private jet with a tail that caught the morning light like the scales of an overpriced snake. Two crew members stood beside it in all-black uniforms.Angela got out first, dragging Sushi’s carrier behind her while the cat let out a low growl that sounded vaguely like a threat. I followed, tugging my hoodie to shield myself from the sun that was suddenly way too bright. Then came Sienna... still wearing her mermaid costume, sunglasses still perched on her face, and pulling a glittery suitcase like she was stepping onto a red carpet. I squinted. Sienna adjusted her shades with two fingers. And then… she walked.

The staff moved with a kind of theatrical precision. They lifted our luggage like they were transporting museum artifacts instead of glitter-covered suitcases belonging to a little mermaid whose belongings probably consisted of broken toys, crusty slime, and pacifiers lost and then triumphantly recovered.Nicholas gave a single, subtle nod just as a man appeared from behind the curve of the grand staircase. Tall, polished, and born with the kind of face that could say “Welcome to the De Castello residence” in three languages without blinking.“The butler,” Angela whispered, way too excited, her phone already in recording mode. “Oh my God, it’s like walking into a private Vatican museum.”“Welcome back, Mr. De Castello,” the man said calmly. “I’ve arranged a brief tour for Mrs Castello, per your request.”Nicholas nodded. “Make sure Sienna’s room matches her specifications.”“We’ve ensured everything is in place, sir.”I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course Nicholas had “specif