บททั้งหมดของ Back In The Arms Of My Billionaire Ex Husband : บทที่ 131 - บทที่ 140

Danae almost cancelled twice. But Angelo had texted that morning:Lunch again? I promise not to scare you off this time.She smiled despite herself.This time, the meeting was easier.No nervousness. No guarded posture.They met at a quieter café near the hospital where Angelo worked. He had rolled up sleeves today, no suit jacket — more relaxed, more real.“You ran off dramatically last time,” he teased lightly.“I had a valid reason.”“I assumed.”They laughed.It was comfortable.Angelo spoke about a surgery he had assisted in. About the fragility of life. About how he admired women who built empires and still showed up as mothers.Danae listened.And she noticed something important.He asked about Dora. Not casually but genuinely.“What does she like?”“What makes her laugh?”“What scares her?”It was Just pure interest.By the end of lunch, Danae felt steady.When Angelo walked her to her car, he didn’t try anything dramatic. Just a simple smile.“I’d like to see you again,” he

Danae stood outside Angelo’s apartment longer than necessary. The hallway was too quiet. It made her thought louder.“Close the door, completely.” The words constantly rang in her ear. She lifted her hand and knocked before she could change her mind.When Angelo opened the door, surprise flickered across his face, quickly followed by warmth. “Danae.”“I hope I’m not interrupting.”“Never.” He stepped aside to let her in.His apartment smelled faintly of coffee and something clean, understated like him. Everything about Angelo felt deliberate. Thought out and calm.Unlike the storm constantly brewing inside her.They sat on the couch at first, talking about nothing in particular. Work, traffic, Dora’s upcoming presentation.Normal things.But the air between them felt charged not with passion exactly, but with expectation.“I meant what I said yesterday,” she began softly. “I’m choosing this.”He studied her carefully. “You don’t sound convinced.”“I am.”Before doubt could creep bac

Morning came too fast.Danae stirred first, pulled from sleep by the unfamiliar weight draped securely around her waist. For a moment she lay still, suspended between dream and memory.Then awareness settled.Vincenzo.His arm rested heavily across her stomach, his breathing slow and even against her hair. In sleep, his face had softened; the sharp lines of pride and tension she knew so well were gone. He looked younger and vulnerable.Her pulse quickened.Last night returned in fragments — the door opening, the urgency of her kiss, the way silence had said everything words could not.She shifted slightly, intending to ease out of his hold.His eyes opened immediately.They stared at one another.Morning stripped things bare. There was no darkness to hide behind now. No impulse to blame.“Good morning,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.“Morning,” she replied, quieter.The space between them felt different in daylight not regretful, but exposed.He pushed himself upright, running a

The night air felt thinner once they stepped outside.The Montclair house stood behind them, tall and illuminated, its windows glowing like watchful eyes. Danae had grown used to that sensation of being seen even when no one stood at the door.Vincenzo unlocked the car without speaking.Dora was already half-asleep against his shoulder, her small fingers curled loosely into the fabric of his jacket. He opened the back door carefully and secured her into her seat with slow precision, adjusting the strap so it wouldn’t press against her neck.Danae watched without meaning to.He closed the door gently, as if the sound itself might disturb something fragile.They settled into the front seats.The engine started.Neither of them reached for the radio.For several blocks, the only sound was the soft rhythm of the tires against asphalt.Danae leaned her head back against the seat, staring through the windshield at passing streetlights. Each one flashed briefly across the glass, then disappe

The next days were unbearable. Danae ignored Vincenzo completely, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. She threw herself into Dora, into her routines, into everything that could distract her.But at night, when the house was quiet and Dora finally slept, Danae poured herself a glass of whiskey. The liquid burned as it went down, but it dulled the storm in her chest just enough to let her think or at least, to stop the ache for a little while.She sat in the dim kitchen light, glass in hand, staring at the empty room. She hadn’t realized how much the fight had drained her — emotionally, mentally, everything. The anger, the hurt, the frustration, all mixed together like fire under her skin.“Mommy… can you sleep?” Dora’s small, worried voice called from the hallway, breaking through the haze.Danae groaned, clutching her head. “I’m fine, baby. Just… tired, that’s all.” She forced a smile, hiding the bitterness that still clung to her.She set the glass down, rubbing her eyes, b