All Chapters of The Billionaire's Secret Bride : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Liam slumped into the waiting room chair, hands gripping the arms like he could anchor himself to something solid. No one spoke to him. No one even looked at him. He took out his phone and dialed Evelyn’s line. It rang once, twice, but there was no response. He stole glances at the children. Lily’s small fingers clutched Mia’s hand, and her eyes were wide, hesitant. “Is that… Daddy?” she asked softly, barely audible. Ethan, sitting a few feet away, smiled gently. “Yes, that's him,” he said, voice soft, but steady. Liam’s chest tightened. He hadn’t expected that—such a small, innocent question—but it hit him with the weight of a hammer. Evan, more daring than his sister, moved slowly, cautiously, until he perched beside Liam. Liam froze. He didn’t know what to do. He could feel the boy’s gaze on him, questioning, hopeful, expecting him to reach out. His pride, fear, and shame tangled together, keeping his hands locked in his lap. His chest constricted. Ethan noticed, he moved

Evelyn stared at him as he had just spoken another language. “What?” she repeated, sharper this time. Ethan didn’t blink. He didn’t move. His voice came out low, steady, nothing like the storm shaking inside him. “You heard me. Where is Aria?” Her lips parted, then pressed together. She pushed the laptop off her lap and stood up slowly, every movement deliberate. “You’ve lost your mind,” she said. “You walk into my house and start accusing me of kidnapping? Are you insane?” “Your house?” Ethan echoed softly. “Interesting choice of words.” Evelyn’s eyes flashed. “Don’t twist this.” “I’m not twisting anything,” he said. “I’m connecting dots.” She scoffed. “You always think you’re the smartest person in the room. Huhn, you think you're the most intelligent.” “And you always think you’re untouchable. Like you are a goddess.” Silence dropped between them, thick and vibrating. Evelyn folded her arms. “Say it clearly,” she demanded. “What exactly are you accusing me of? Say it to

The machines were still humming when the incident occurred. That low, steady sound had become the rhythm of the room—breathing measured by wires, hope regulated by numbers blinking green and blue. Mia had been sitting on the edge of the chair all night, back stiff, eyes burning, afraid to blink too long in case she missed something. She was rubbing Allen’s hand absentmindedly when she felt it. A shift. Not the machine. Him. She froze. Her fingers stilled against his skin. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat. “Allen?” she whispered. Nothing. Her heart sank—just a reflex, she told herself. Just her imagination, fuelled by exhaustion and fear. Then his eyelids fluttered. Just once. Mia gasped so sharply she nearly fell out of the chair. “Allen,” she said again, louder now, her voice shaking. “Allen, baby?” His lashes trembled. Slowly and unevenly. Like he was fighting something heavy. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “Oh my God—” She was on her feet be

The ward smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm plastic, the steady hum of machines filling the quiet spaces where words kept failing them.Mia sat on the edge of the chair beside Allen’s bed, her spine stiff, hands folded so tightly in her lap her fingers had gone pale. Evan was on the floor with his back against the wall, dragging a toy car back and forth without really looking at it. Lily sat cross-legged on the bed, careful not to touch the tubes, her small hand hovering over Allen’s blanket like she was afraid even her shadow might hurt him.Allen was awake and quiet. Too quiet for a child who usually asks a hundred questions a minute.Mia kept glancing at his face—those lashes, that familiar crease between his brows—and every time his chest rose and fell, she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days.The door opened softly.Mia looked up.Ms. Calder stepped inside, still in her tailored suit, her handbag tucked under her arm like armor. Her eyes swept the room first—A

The sitting room smelled faintly of fresh flowers and polished wood, the sunlight spilling through the curtains and catching on ivory cushions. Mrs. Steele and Mrs. Voss were deep in discussion, comparing swatches of fabric and arguing softly over the table settings.Their voices carried the rhythm of long-standing familiarity, punctuated with laughter and gentle chiding.Evelyn and Liam sat nearby, speaking quietly, their voices barely above the hum of conversation.“The ceremony—have you thought about how you want it to feel?” Liam asked, eyes fixed on hers, earnest and steady.“I have,” Evelyn replied softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want it to feel… intimate. Even with all the grandeur, it should feel like us. Simple, yet memorable.”Liam nodded. “That’s good. I want it to be about us, too. Even if everything else is… exaggerated.”They shared a brief, loaded glance—something unspoken lingering in the space between them. The moment was delicate, fragile, and fu