All Chapters of The Forgotten wife of the Billionaire : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The townhouse was quiet, almost too calm, the kind of silence that demanded acknowledgement. It was different from London's usual chaotic symphony, and in this silence, every detail felt heightened. The distant rumble of a bus, the slow, rhythmic beat of my own heart. Eliana had finally dozed off on the bus after our fun adventures and sightseeing. I had tucked her in myself, my hands clumsy and gentle on the small comforter. I stood outside her room, in the half-light of the hallway, half expecting her to stir and call for her mother, as she so often did in new places. But she didn’t. She slept soundly, her tiny arm curled around that plush lion, as if the world couldn’t touch her. Lena stayed by the hallway window, silently looking out. The soft, buttery glow of London’s streetlamps painted her face in shades of gold and amber, highlighting her jaw. Her arms were crossed, but not in their usual defensive, guarded way I remembered from the last time we were in a room together. She

Dominic’s POV The day unfolded like something out of a picture-perfect book. Eliana had been up before dawn, bouncing on her bed, Leo tucked under her arm, declaring it was “London Day.” I hadn’t had the heart—or the energy—to tell her that most of London didn’t wake until hours later. By midmorning, we were on the top deck of a double-decker bus, Eliana practically plastered to the railing, pointing at every landmark like it was magic. Lena sat beside her, the winter wind lifting strands of her hair, and for a moment I thought she might actually be enjoying herself. “This is even better than the cartoons,” Eliana shouted, tugging my sleeve. I grinned, unable to resist. “Wait until you see Hyde Park.” We did. She chased pigeons across the grass, laughed at street performers, and ate her weight in caramel popcorn. Lena stayed close, her hand hovering protectively near her daughter even as she laughed at her antics. Watching them together like that made something ache deep in my ch

The morning air was cool, damp with the faint drizzle that seemed to follow London like a loyal shadow. I tugged Eliana’s coat tighter around her shoulders as she skipped ahead, Leo dangling upside down from her hand. “Mommy, look!” she cried, pointing at a row of pastel-painted houses. “It’s like candy! Can we live here?” Her eyes were wide, full of wonder. I smiled despite myself. “We’re only visiting, sweetheart. But you can draw them later if you like.” She hummed in agreement, imagining the picture, no doubt, as she twirled on the slick pavement. Behind us, the townhouse loomed quietly. Dominic was still inside, buried in calls and contracts. I had heard his voice earlier—low, commanding, clipped in that businesslike way. It was the same tone he’d used when we were together. Only back then did I use to wait up for him, used to hope he’d come home early enough to share dinner. Now, I didn’t wait. Eliana tugged at my hand, pulling me toward the corner. “Bus, Mommy! The

The sunrise crept into the townhouse, soft and pale against the cream walls. I’d been awake for hours, lying on the edge of the sofa, staring at the ceiling while my phone buzzed uselessly on the table beside me. For once, I hadn’t answered. Today was different. Today had to be different. I stood, ran a hand over my jaw, and walked toward the kitchen. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. I hadn’t cooked in years, not really—but I managed to dig through the cupboards until I found coffee, eggs, and a loaf of bread. It wasn’t much, but it would do. The sound of small feet on the stairs reached me first. Eliana, hair tangled and Leo tucked under one arm, padded into the kitchen in her star-print pyjamas. Her eyes widened when she saw me at the stove. “Uncle Dom?” she blinked, rubbing her eyes. “You cook?” I cracked an egg into the pan, the sizzle sharp in the quiet. “Trying to. Don’t look so shocked.” She giggled and clambered onto a chair. “It smells funny.”

The townhouse was silent after she left, but I couldn’t make myself move. Her tea sat untouched on the table, still faintly steaming, mocking me with the warmth she had abandoned. I stared at it for too long, jaw tight, my chest heavy with the weight of what almost happened. I had been so close. Close enough to feel her breath, close enough to see her lashes tremble, close enough to believe she might have let me kiss her. And then my phone—my damn phone—had taken the moment from me. I should’ve smashed it against the wall. Instead, I picked it up. Two missed calls, both from my office. A text with red-flag words—urgent, delay, signatures needed. Business. The reason I was here. The excuse I clung to when everything else felt too dangerous. But in that moment, none of it mattered. I didn’t want contracts or negotiations. I wanted her. I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the length of the living room. Guilt gnawed at me, sharp and unrelenting. She had looked at me like she almost