All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Fake Bride : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lucien’s POVLucien had been trying not to think about her.About the betrayal of the only woman he had ever truly cared for. He refused—steadfastly, stubbornly, to believe that he had been so completely deceived by the woman who was meant to be the mother of his child. Yet the thought replayed in his mind over and over again, gnawing at the edges of his mind until he no longer knew what to think.He had lied to her once, but the moment he understood what he felt for her, he had confessed immediately, stripping himself bare in a way he had never done for anyone else. Lucien had always believed himself to be cold—complex, distant, unyielding. That was the man the world knew. That was the man he had learned to be.She had shown him otherwise.With her, life had felt simpler. Manageable in ways he hadn’t thought possible. She had made him believe that perhaps he wasn’t as fractured as he once assumed. She had given him a comfort no one could even come to give him since his brother’s death

Adrian’s POVAdrian checked the time for the third time in less than five minutes.The reminder sat quietly on his desk, blinking at the corner of his tablet screen. Antenatal appointment. Eleven thirty. He had set it himself a week ago, chosen the doctor carefully, made sure there would be no press, no unnecessary questions.He drummed his fingers once against the glass surface, then stilled them.“She won’t like it,” he murmured. He had learned enough about her to know that she did not like being cornered, even gently.He had rehearsed what he would say. I want to come with you.It sounded simple. Reasonable. But he knew Celine would argue. She would not allow it. Still, he would try, because there were other things he wanted to say. Things he had carried for longer than he liked to admit. Every time he thought about her standing alone in that apartment, carrying something that connected them irrevocably, the weight of guilt pressed harder. He had let her go through all that pain.So

Lucien’s POVLucien did not remember leaving the building. He remembered the taste of bitterness in his mouth. The way his knuckles burned. The way Adrian Lancaster’s voice had stayed calm even with blood on his face.Everything else blurred.The elevator doors closed behind him with a soft mechanical sound. His reflection stared back at him from the mirrored wall. Disheveled. Eyes narrowed. Jaw tight with a fury that had nowhere to go.He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and hissed when his knuckles protested.He had never lost control like that with anyone. Only when it involved Celine. And the fact that Adrian had been the complete opposite of him made his fury grow. He could press charges. Not only did Lucien trespass into another man’s property, but he also assaulted him.He never should have done that. That was a terrible mistake. If word got out, his already shaky reputation would crumble. Adrian had Lucien exactly where he wanted him now.Pathetic.A bitter, humorle

Celine’s POVI eat the burger slowly, even though it is already cold.The paper bag is folded neatly beside me, weighed down by my phone so it does not fly off the rooftop. The bread tastes dry, the meat overly salty, but I keep chewing anyway. It feels important to finish it. Like if I stop, I will have to think too much.The rooftop is cluttered, like the previous resident had neglected it and left with nothing. There are old pots with dead plants. Dried vines cling stubbornly to the fence. A broken chair is pushed against the wall, as if someone once meant to fix it and never came back. The concrete beneath me is warm from the sun.I sit near the edge, knees drawn in, looking down at the street below.Cars and pedestrians pass by. A woman in pure white jeans and a top laughs into her phone, looking flustered by something the person on the other end said. Life continues at a pace that feels almost insulting.No one knows who I am here.The thought brings relief and panic in equal mea

Celine’s POVMildred keeps glancing at the small clock on the wall, ticking loudly in contrast to my cricket silence. It’s as if she wants me to leave even though she was the one who invited me in. Or she’s just anxious about something. The cup sits between my palms, warmth fading into something tepid, something forgettable. I do not rush to finish it either way.Outside, the rocking chair creaks once more and then stops.I lift my eyes to the window without meaning to. The man is still there, seated, hands resting on his thighs now instead of gripping the arms of the chair. He stares ahead, not at me, not at anything in particular. The absence of movement unsettles me more than the rocking and the loud clock did.Mildred clears her throat and is about to say something when a phone goes off by the hallway. She smiles politely.“I’ll just check on it quickly, excuse me,” she says, already standing.She leaves me alone with the ticking clock, the photograph on the wall, and the creeping