All Chapters of THE BILLIONAIRE'S FORGOTTEN WIFE: My Husband's Redemption: Chapter 241 - Chapter 250

NATHANIELAs promised, I have spent the last three weeks helping Betty with her rebrand. We’ve been meeting exclusively in public places— restaurants, hotel lobbies, or crowded cafés—as if she is terrified to be alone with me.There was a time that would have driven me insane, but now? Every single second I get to sit across from her feels like oxygen. And if I have to spend the rest of my life drinking coffee in hotel lobbies just to be near her, I will gladly do it.The air between us has been constantly vibrating with an unspoken, agonizing tension. And it has been that way since she found out Rhys’s club opening.Every now and then, I catch her giving me that heavy, searching look, like she is standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to figure out if she wants to jump. But the second I meet her eyes, that look disappears, and she looks away.I know better than to push her, especially now with Martha’s voice playing on a constant, bruising loop in my head: Just be her friend. Don't

BETTYIt's hard not to notice that the interior of the sleek, heavily tinted Maybach smells sharply of untouched, expensive leather as I stare out the dark window, my fingers nervously tracing the smooth, cool edge of my gold clutch.When Nathaniel’s driver arrived at my apartment, I had braced myself for one of the familiar estate cars—the ones I used to ride in when I was still living there. Instead, he sent this. A completely pristine, brand-new vehicle. One I had never seen before. And judging from how it looks and smells, I might be the first person to ride in it.I drag a shaky breath into my lungs, trying to steady the frantic hammering against my ribs as the streetlights blur past the glass.I wasn’t sure I was going to attend this gala. Especially after I fatefully remembered the last adult party I had attended and how things had gone from bad to worse.It was Harriette’s 80th birthday party. Staring at my ceiling, I could feel the oppressive, sweltering heat of the estate's

BETTYThe sheer, suffocating reality of him standing mere inches away—for the first time since we broke up—slams into my chest like a freight train and panic spikes hot in my blood. My palms turn clammy, slipping against the smooth gold metal of my clutch. I lock my knees to keep them from buckling and drag a sharp, jagged breath into my burning lungs.“Get it together, Betty.”I swallow the dry dust in my throat, bury the frantic hammering of my heart, and force my expression into a smooth, impenetrable mask. Only then do I let myself take him in.He looks different. Undeniably him, but fundamentally altered.He towers in my space, draped in a bespoke, all-black tuxedo that grips his broad shoulders and chest like a suit of armor, the sharp lines of his muscles pressing heavily against the dark fabric. He stands rooted in polished Italian leather shoes, one hand slid deep into his trouser pocket, pulling the jacket back to expose a heavy, gleaming silver watch at his wrist. The other

NATHANIELAfter a long moment of staring at the fairy lights, I force the impending death of our company out of my head and focus on the only thing that actually matters tonight.Is she here yet? Or did she bail?The thought pierces through the rage, and I push off the desk. I need to see for myself. I take a deep breath, cross the room, and pick up the heavy glass paperweight. I set it back on the desk, adjust my cuffs, and walk out the door.The bass of the string quartet hits my chest the second I step into the hallway, followed by the echoing, chaotic laughter of a hundred wealthy guests. But before I face them, I walk in the opposite direction to Grace’s room.The space is dark, bathed in the faint glow of a nightlight. She is fast asleep, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I cross the plush carpet, pull the heavy duvet up over her shoulders, and step back out, pulling the door shut with a silent click.I make my way to the grand landing, and unfortunately, I find R

BETTYI remain there standing, shaking my head, not knowing if I should be furious that he made me the center of a public spectacle, or incredibly flattered that he just risked his mother's wrath to defend me.He closes the final foot of space between us and reaches out, his large, warm hand gently wrapping around mine, giving my fingers a reassuring squeeze."Are you okay?"I blink, the heat of his touch sending a jolt straight up my arm, and I slowly pull my hand away, turning to place my clutch on the marble counter to give my shaking hands something to do.He steps in right beside me, his shoulder brushing mine."You didn't have to do that," I mutter, swallowing the thick lump in my throat.He turns fully to face me and leans his forearm against the counter, bringing his face dangerously close to mine."I actually did, Betty," he says, his voice dropping into a quiet, intimate register meant only for us. "For years, I stood back and let my mother and her friends treat you like an