All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORGOTTEN WIFE: My Husband's Redemption: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

NATHANIELThey have been sitting out there for almost 2.5 hours now. And I know because I have not stopped watching them once.From the balcony outside my room, the garden stretches beneath me in soft evening light, the roses swaying gently every time the wind brushes through them, while the fountain somewhere in the distance pours water in quiet little streams against stone.Right in the middle of all that calm sit Betty and Harriette with enough tension wrapped around them that even from up here, I can feel it.Harriette keeps adjusting the spoon beside her teacup without actually drinking anything.Betty keeps checking her phone every few minutes before placing it back down again, only to grab it again moments later, like somehow the screen might suddenly change if she stares at it hard enough.My fingers tighten unconsciously around the whiskey bottle hanging loosely from my hand.I have only taken one sip since I retrieved it from the cellar after they left me standing there alon

BETTYI am pretty sure this is the longest Nathaniel and I have ever been in the same room without yelling at each other, throwing accusations back and forth, or looking at one another like we would rather be anywhere else on earth.And that’s why this has been nothing but uncomfortable.The living room is quiet except for the occasional tick of the giant clock mounted near the hallway and the soft crackling of the fireplace across the room.I am seated near the window, curled into the edge of the couch, while Nathaniel occupies the armchair closest to the door, as if both of us unconsciously chose positions that would make escape easier if this became too much.Harriette left almost an hour ago, claiming she needed her beauty rest before she “aged ten years from stress,” before pointing her cane at both of us dramatically and ordering us to wake her up the second we heard anything about Rhys.I cross one leg over the other before uncrossing it again moments later, my heel tapping ligh

NATHANIELI can already tell the thoughts that are sitting inside her head right now.Who is she? Why didn’t he mention her? Why does he look comfortable sitting there? Is she the reason he has disappeared?She doesn’t scroll any further. She simply lowers the phone slowly before tossing it onto the armchair behind me like suddenly touching it has become unbearable.And without a single word, she turns around and walks back to the couch she was sitting on earlier and grabs her phone.Then, she begins walking towards the door, and without thinking, my hand grabs her wrist just as she is about to pass me, and I pull her gently but firmly enough to stop her.“Betty, wait…”She spins halfway toward me, startled by the contact, and yanks her hand away like I am contagious, making her stumble backward slightly.“That photo doesn’t mean anything.”The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and the second they do, confusion hits me hard because what the fuck?Am I seriously standing her

NATHANIELThe cabin is quiet now except for the engines humming beneath us and the occasional shift of turbulence against the walls.I stare out through the oval window beside me, watching nothing except darkness stretching endlessly beyond the plane.New York is almost beneath us now.And despite everything happening tonight, despite Rhys missing and the growing feeling in my gut that something is terribly wrong, my eyes keep drifting toward the exact thing I have been trying hardest not to look at.Betty.At some point during the flight, exhaustion must have finally dragged her under because her head rests awkwardly against the window while strands of dark hair spill across the seat around her like ink spreading over silk.Her laptop is balanced on her thighs, tilting dangerously every few seconds whenever the plane shifts slightly, and from the way she has not even noticed, she must be sleeping deeply.I watch her quietly for a moment longer than I probably should.The warm cabin l

NATHANIEL.I have been watching her spiral for the last thirty minutes, and I am quickly realizing there is no right way to calm a woman who thinks the man she loves might be bleeding somewhere in this city while we stand here doing nothing.Every attempt I make only seems to make things worse.The first time, she looked at me like she wanted to stab me with the lamp sitting beside the bed.The second time, she waved her hand in my direction and told me to get the hell away from her.So I did.I’ve kept my distance and let her pace across the hotel suite while I sit at the edge of the bed watching helplessly, hoping she would eventually exhaust herself enough for us to have an actual conversation without yelling, accusations, or one of us saying something unforgivable.Though judging by the way she keeps dragging both hands through her hair every few seconds, I am beginning to think that hope might have been a little too ambitious.This is exactly what I had been trying to avoid ever