Todos los capítulos de Billionaire’s Pretend Wife To Be: Capítulo 101 - Capítulo 110

The private jet was a symbol of the life we had left behind, and a necessary evil for the life we were choosing to reclaim. Holding Amelia, who was drawing stick figures on a tiny napkin, I watched the coastline of Starhaven Point disappear. I wasn't running this time. I was going home, side-by-side with the man I had forgiven.Alessandro sat across from us, watching my face. He didn’t read or work. He was simply present, waiting for any sign of fear or regret. The simple platinum band gleamed faintly on my finger, a quiet testament to the year of patience and the promise of forever.“You’re quiet, my love,” he finally said, reaching out to gently brush a lock of hair from my cheek.“It’s big, Alessandro,” I admitted, my eyes still fixed on the horizon. “The Manor. It’s a fortress. I spent two years in a place where I could see the ocean from every window and never had to walk more than twenty steps to be outside. This house… it holds so many ghosts. And Amelia has only known quiet fr

The West Wing was no longer the West Wing. It was a space saturated with sunlight, painted in warm, calming shades of cream and soft green. We had knocked down the oppressive walls of Alessandro’s old executive office, replacing them with a vast, open room that served as a family library and classroom. It was filled with shelves of books, Amelia’s building blocks, and a large, comfortable sofa where we now sat, side-by-side.The physical dismantling of the corporate heart of the Manor had been a massive project, lasting three full months. Watching the demolition crew tear apart the oppressive fixtures of his past life was the most healing ritual I could have imagined. Now, sitting here, surrounded by lightness, I felt ready to face the future.Alessandro was waiting. He had spent the morning reviewing the new structure of the Conti Foundation with his legal team, making sure that my autonomy was protected, and that the resources were ready for deployment. He was dressed in a tailored,

The Conti corporate headquarters felt like a different planet compared to the quiet, sun-drenched library we had spent the last few months designing. This was Alessandro’s world of steel, glass, and intimidating power. It was sterile, cold, and utterly terrifying.I stood beside him in a small, private room behind the main conference stage, waiting for the signal. I was dressed in a simple, perfectly tailored dark dress, chosen specifically to look professional but not flashy. The only visible jewelry was the humble platinum band that now rested securely on my left hand. It was the only armor I needed.Alessandro was back in a suit, but it wasn't the armor of the old CEO. It was lighter, more modern, and he wore it like a necessary uniform, not a second skin. He looked impossibly handsome, but his usual corporate intensity was replaced with a nervous, profound sincerity.“Ready, my love?” he asked, his voice low, pulling me closer. His hand on my back was solid and warm, a grounding f

The new wing of the Seattle City Hospital, named in honor of my little brother, felt sacred. Alessandro and I went alone, leaving Amelia with Mrs. Davies for the evening. The main entrance was quiet, but as we walked down the corridor toward the new research facilities and the patient observatory, the atmosphere shifted.The walls were painted a deep, quiet blue, speckled with tiny, fiber-optic lights meant to resemble constellations. Everything was designed to be soothing, bright, and hopeful. But for me, the hope was inseparable from the overwhelming pain.We stopped at the entrance to the wing. Above the wide, glass doors, a simple bronze plaque read: The Leo Vance Memorial Observatory and Pediatric Research Wing.I looked at the name, and the rush of grief was physical, sharp, and immediate. My chest constricted, and tears blurred the tiny, distant stars on the ceiling. I hadn't cried like this since the first few months after I left Alessandro, after the funeral. This was a deepe

The new library was perfect. It was bright, open, and filled with the comforting smell of new books and freshly sanded wood. The large picture window offered a view of the sprawling gardens. We had fought so hard to make this space work, to cleanse it of the cold, controlling energy of the original West Wing. Yet, sitting here with Alessandro one rainy Saturday afternoon, playing a quiet board game after Amelia had gone down for his nap, I still felt a tiny knot of unease.We were sitting on a large, soft rug, the game pieces laid out haphazardly. Alessandro reached over and gently adjusted a lock of my hair that had fallen forward.“You’re thinking about something heavy, my love,” he observed, his voice soft. “Your brow is furrowed. Are you worried about the Foundation budget? Arthur’s schedule?”I sighed, picking up a game piece and turning it over in my fingers. “No, nothing so concrete. It’s the house itself. I look at this room, and I love it. We poured so much heart into this sp