All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Fake Bride : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Celeste’s POVThe strong smell of coffee and sugar inside the café made Celeste worry Celine might get sick and she’d have to bear the burden of taking her back to the hotel. Plates clinked. She relaxed a bit when she saw how unaffected Celine appeared to be. Small conversations blended into one steady hum of the shop that made it a bit hard to think clearly.A woman who appeared to be in her late sixties or so was standing gallantly in front of the counter, demanding they change her coffee for the second time. The first was because she thought there was a smudge on the cup, which there wasn’t actually. It was just a drop of coffee. And the second was because she had apparently told them to use brown sugar, not white.Celeste sat across from Celine, absently stirring her tea even though she hadn’t taken a sip yet, desperately trying to tune out the chaos ensuing just a few feet behind her.Celine was eating slowly, like every bite required effort. However, slowly, she was almost done

Celine’s POVI stepped out of the bathroom stall with my legs feeling heavy and weak. I fixed my clothes and walked slowly toward the sink.The bathroom was quiet, except for the soft sound of running water.A woman stood beside her little daughter at the sink, bending slightly so she could help her wash her hands. The girl was small, maybe four or five, with soft curls and bright eyes. She was laughing quietly as her mother guided her hands under the tap.“Rub, rub,” the woman said gently. “Like this.”The girl copied her, giggling.I stood there for a second and just watched them, feeling a flutter in my chest at how beautiful they both looked together.A mother and her child.I looked at them through the mirror, watching the way the woman smiled at the little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world, and in that moment, I so badly wanted to have my own child. My own little bundle of light that would giggle as I helped him or her wash their hands.The little girl turned

Adrian’s POVEnzo did not look up when Adrian spoke.He lifted his glass and took a slow sip instead. The amber liquid barely trembled as he drank, as if nothing in this place ever truly surprised him. The bartender appeared almost immediately, setting another drink down without being asked, his movements quick and practiced, his eyes carefully avoiding both men.“I don’t think I know you,” Enzo replied finally, his voice smooth, wrapped in a careless tone that did not match the sharpness in his eyes.“You do,” Adrian said.Enzo’s lips twitched slightly.Up close, he was not as intimidating as Adrian had thought the man would be. He was lean rather than bulky, composed rather than aggressive. But there was something else there, something colder, something hardened by experience. The kind of danger that did not need to shout to be heard.“That so?”“Yes.”Silence stretched between them.The music thudded softly in the background, vibrating faintly through the table and into Adrian’s bo

Adrian’s POVAdrian lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows crawl slowly across it as cars passed somewhere far below, their headlights slicing briefly through the curtains before disappearing again.He had turned over at least five times. Maybe six. He had lost count. The sheets were twisted around his long legs, his pillow shoved too far to one side, his body restless and uncomfortable in a way that had nothing to do with the mattress and everything to do with the storm inside his head.Sleep refused to come.Every time he closed his eyes, Celine’s face appeared. Sometimes she was smiling the way she rarely did, soft and absentminded, like she was always half lost in her thoughts. Sometimes she was crying. Sometimes she was just standing there, silent, looking at him like she wanted to say something but did not know how.And sometimes she was walking away.He exhaled slowly and rolled onto his side, pressing his palm against his forehead.This makes no sense.That t

Celine's POV Four months later“Can you give me meds instead?” I say gently, even though I feel anything but gentle.I stared at the needle. It was too long. The metal tip caught the hospital light as the doctor held it upright, inspecting it with clinical focus, as if it were nothing more than another instrument in a routine day. To me, it looked like a weapon.I had never gotten over my fear of needles. I hated them. I had always hated them, and I wasn’t sure that I would ever grow out of that fear, no matter how old I got or how many times I told myself to be brave.My fingers curled tighter around the thin hospital blanket.“Ms. Ward,” the doctor said gently, adjusting his glasses, “it’s important that the medicine circulates fast. Your temperature has been dangerously high for three days now, and your blood pressure is not stabilizing the way we’d like. Right now, your health is our priority.”My health. I wanted to laugh.My health had not felt like mine in months.I glanced at