Todos los capítulos de Billionaire’s Pretend Wife To Be: Capítulo 111 - Capítulo 120

Our marriage was perfect. Too perfect, perhaps. We navigated the big things—grief, betrayal, corporate exile, and public vindication—with maturity and grace. But Dr. Chen had warned us: the real test of a relationship isn’t surviving the bomb, it’s navigating the everyday rubble.The bomb went off tonight, right in Amelia’s cozy, yellow-painted den, and the fuse was a five-minute cartoon.It was eight o’clock, the hard stop for screen time. I was sitting beside Amelia on his small bed, reading the final pages of his storybook. Alessandro was leaning against the doorframe, watching us, his usual expression a mix of contentment and quiet admiration.“Okay, buddy,” I said, closing the book with a definitive thud. “Lights out time. We have a big day tomorrow at the Foundation’s first play group.”Amelia, who had become a master negotiator in the absence of a strict routine during our chaotic years, pulled out his most effective weapon: the pout.“But Mama,” he whined softly, gesturing tow

The main conference room in the Conti Tower felt impossibly vast, even though it was filled with reporters, board members, and university heads. This wasn't a standard corporate announcement; this was the official launch of the Leo Vance Memorial Scholarship Fund. It was the culmination of every painful lesson, every penny of earned grace, and every whispered promise Alessandro and I had made.I stood just behind the podium, wearing a dress that reflected the seriousness of the event—simple, tailored, and calm. My heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Alessandro was beside me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, a silent, constant pressure that kept me grounded.“You look like you’re about to announce a hostile takeover,” I whispered up to him, trying to inject some humor into the highly tense moment.He didn’t smile, but the intensity in his eyes softened for me alone. “That’s because this is a takeover, Elara. We are taking over the Conti legacy. We are

The new house was perfect. It wasn’t finished—there were still boxes in the garage and a lingering smell of plaster and fresh paint—but it was ours. The structure was modern, all clean lines and enormous windows facing the water, but the interior was warm, chosen by me, for us. We had low ceilings in the main living space, perfect for feeling hugged by the room, and the floor was simple, lightly stained oak that absorbed sound without muffling it entirely.We had just finished tucking Amelia into his room. He was already dreaming, his starfish nightlight casting a gentle, familiar glow on the wall. I paused outside his door, listening not to the dangerous silence of the Manor, but to the gentle whoosh of the ocean breeze outside and the sound of my husband tidying up the kitchen.I walked into the kitchen, which was now the heart of the home, just as I had always wanted. Alessandro was wearing a comfortable, worn t-shirt and loose pants, wiping down the vast quartz countertop with a q

The setting was the private dining room at Conti Manor—the one reserved for the family, small and intimate, overlooking the winter garden. Despite the formal atmosphere provided by the heavy velvet drapes and the gleaming antique silverware, the tension in the air was purely domestic, charged with a profound, thrilling anxiety.Elara sat across from Arthur, dressed simply but elegantly, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She was pale, but her eyes held a steady, brilliant light that Alessandro had come to recognize as her core strength. Next to her, Alessandro felt like a nervous boy again, fidgeting with the stem of his water glass. He had orchestrated billion-dollar acquisitions with less internal turmoil than he felt right now.Arthur, his grandfather, was oblivious, talking about his latest philanthropic endeavor—a scholarship fund for bright, resilient students from difficult backgrounds.“The greatest joy, Alessandro, is watching a life untangle itself from unnecessary burdens,

The air in the grand ballroom was thick with expensive perfume and the hushed murmur of Seattle’s non-profit elite. I was sitting at a perfectly set table, but my heart was drumming a frantic, off-beat rhythm against my ribs. It was an overwhelming environment—all crystal and white linen—and despite the comfortable weight of Alessandro’s presence beside me, I felt a familiar, sharp pang of being an outsider.I wore a dress that was not custom-made and jewelry that Alessandro hadn't chosen, yet I felt more genuinely dressed than I ever had at the contract-mandated galas. The fabric felt a little snug around my waist—a subtle, secret shift that only I noticed, a tiny acknowledgement of the life growing inside me.Earlier, leaving the Manor had been its own chaotic ceremony. I’d spent fifteen minutes wrestling a clothe onto Amelia, convincing him that a brief snuggle with his favorite teddy bear was a suitable substitute for Mommy putting him to bed. His small, insistent handprint was st