All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs : Chapter 231 - Chapter 240

~CELINE POV~The morning began soft, the kind of soft that always tricked me into thinking life could be normal. Hunter's car was already purring in the driveway, his driver waiting, his phone buzzing endlessly from the backseat. And yet, instead of leaving, he remained on the front steps like a sulking child refusing to go to school.I walked him out, his hand heavy around my waist, his face far too sweet for a man who had destroyed empires with the twitch of a brow."You should not keep people waiting, Mr. Reid," I teased, straightening the lapel of his jacket as if he could not manage it himself.He leaned down, brushing his lips against mine slowly, unhurriedly, until my knees softened. "What are you going to do with yourself all day, hm? Caesar's at school. You will be lonely without me."I gave him a push, though my heart fluttered at how unwilling he was to leave. "I will paint. Then maybe go shopping. I need new things.""New things," he repeated, his grin boyish. "Things to

~CELINE POV~Hunter kept his word. Breakfast was ready before I even managed to change out of my robe. The smell of coffee and butter drifted through the air, warm and homey, and when I walked into the kitchen, Hunter was standing by the stove in sweats and nothing else, flipping something on the pan with that passion he carried into boardrooms."You cook now?" I teased, leaning against the doorway.He glanced over his shoulder, deadpan. "Don't sound so shocked. I can handle eggs and pancakes. I'm a man of many talents.""Mm," I hummed, taking a seat at the island. "I've seen your talents, Mr. Reid. Some are... questionable."That earned me a smirk. "Careful, Mrs. Reid. You keep talking like that, we won't make it to breakfast." I bit my lip, heat curling low in my stomach, but before I could come up with a reply, a familiar voice shrieked from upstairs."Mommy!"Both our heads turned just as Caesar came barreling down the stairs in his school uniform, his tiny backpack bouncing, hair

~CELINE POV~The house had never felt so full and yet so quiet at the same time. It was almost unsettling how peace could hum beneath noise, how even laughter carried a trace of ache once you started counting days. My suitcase sat by the closet, still open, half-packed, like it was waiting for me to change my mind. I had told Hunter a hundred times that it would only be two months....eight short weeks in Paris.....but saying it out loud never stopped the lump that rose in my throat every time I looked at that suitcase.Blake and Caroline arrived in the afternoon, armed with enough wine and energy to drown any hint of nerves I might have had. Blake burst through the door first, already talking before her heels had even crossed the marble."Alright, Mrs. Reid," she announced, tossing her bag on the couch, "if this is supposed to be your Paris send-off, I expect French music, questionable snacks, and absolutely no tears until at least the second bottle."Caroline followed behind, rollin

~CELINE POV~Hunter had insisted on buying me the Paris house even after I told him I could rent an apartment on my own. He didn't even argue, not in words anyway.....just sent me a video tour of a quiet townhouse tucked off Rue Saint-Dominique and said, "If you're going to be away from me, at least be comfortable doing it." He'd already hired a local housekeeper named Estelle who came twice a week, stocked the kitchen with everything I might ever crave, and left fresh flowers on the dining table every Monday morning. The house itself was old but beautiful—arched windows, creaking wooden floors, white curtains that danced with every breeze. From the balcony, I could see the Eiffel Tower's top half, glinting faintly above the city like a secret.The first week was the hardest. I missed the noise of our mornings....the sound of Caesar arguing with his cereal, Hunter's half-awake voice demanding "five more minutes." Here, mornings began with silence and ended with the faint hum of the c

~CELINE POV~I could already tell something was off the moment I woke up that morning. Paris sunlight usually felt like a soft kiss through the curtains, warm, golden, familiar. Today, it just burned against my eyes, making my head pound."Maybe you just miss home," Fumi said, tilting her head with that knowing grin as we left the studio. She was still holding her apron, her curls sticking out from beneath her head wrap. "That's how homesickness begins. It crawls into your stomach first."I laughed, though weakly. "You're ridiculous. It's probably just something I ate.""Maybe your husband," she teased. "You've been sighing all class. I counted three times.""Four," I corrected, and that made her cackle so loud that half the street turned to look at us.By evening, she had dragged me out for dinner at this cozy little French restaurant tucked in Montparnasse. The place smelled of butter, garlic, and temptation, but the moment the waiter placed a steaming plate of clams in front of me,