All Chapters of She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife: Chapter 121 - Chapter 129

(Piper)The glass offices at Stein M&A offer zero privacy.It’s an architectural choice designed to project transparency, which just means everyone can watch you pretend to work.I have absolutely no legitimate business in this building today.I’m staying well out of any involvement with the Bauer merger. That’s a disaster headed for a cliff.I want nothing to do with it.I’m lucky Gloria hasn’t tossed me out yet.She pretended to believe the flimsy excuse that I just needed somewhere quiet to catch up on work between meetings in the area.For the third time this week.So here I am, sitting on the leather couch in her office, staring at the keys of my laptop.I can’t stay away from her. It’s pathetic.I flew to Los Angeles under the guise of corporate oversight, but the truth is much less palatable.The sheer, irrational anger that spiked in my chest when I heard Nathanial was making overtures to her again was enough to get me on a plane.I don't want to talk about London.I definitel

(James)I sit in my car in the St. Jude’s parking structure for ten minutes before gathering the courage to pull my phone out.I haven’t spoken to Evie in thirty years.I built an entire life, a medical career, and a wall of silence between me and the rest of my family, specifically to ensure I never had to deal with what I found out.Evie was right at the center of it.And if I could have gone the rest of my life without speaking to her again, I would have gladly taken it.But Lily’s kidneys could start failing at any point.And while Nathanial is a possible match, he’s not the closest family Natasha has.I didn’t do right by Nat when Will died of a broken heart, helped along by rivers of booze.But I’m not making the same mistake with her daughter.I pull Nathanial Morton’s cell number from the hospital donor registry and hit dial."Morton," he answers. He sounds wired."It’s James Bailey."A short, hard silence."Is it Lily?""No. Her numbers are stable. I need your mother’s addres

(Clarice)I tell myself to stop.Nat is a closed door.She has been a closed door for twenty years, and one afternoon with James Bailey on my doorstep is not enough to open it again.I press my fingers to my temples and breathe in slowly.Four counts in. Eight counts out.It does nothing.Her face keeps assembling itself behind my eyelids.Not as she must be now, I haven't seen her, but as she was.Six years old. Solemn mouth. The little furrow between her brows that she got from her father.Stop.Sonia is on the edge of the sofa with her knees pulled up and her arms wrapped around her shins.She looks like a child who’s been caught and is waiting to see how bad the trouble is going to be.She’s the daughter I raised from infancy to adulthood.She’s the daughter in the room with me right now.She’s the one I have to think about at the moment.In all likelihood, Nat will never forgive me anyway."Sonia."She doesn't look up."Sit properly," I say, surprised by the steadiness in my own

(Clarice)I shouldn’t be here.I tell myself this in the parking structure.I tell myself this in the lift.I tell myself this as I cross the polished floor of the St. Jude's pediatric wing in a wide-brimmed hat and dark glasses that make me look exactly like a woman who’s somewhere she shouldn’t be.I called the hospital and pretended to be Natasha Warren, confirming Lily’s next appointment.It turned out to be today.Sonia is upstairs in her bedroom packing for Paris and refuses to speak to me.I tell myself I’m only here for a quick look.The pediatric atrium has a glass wall that overlooks the courtyard fountain.There’s a row of upholstered chairs facing it for parents who need to pretend, briefly, to be somewhere else.I take one of the chairs at the far end and angle myself toward the corridor.Natasha comes out of the lift at three forty.She comes in with the baby in her arms and a leather bag over one shoulder.She looks exhausted, but she’s pushing through it in that way wo

(Julian)The text comes through at nine fifteen.I’m at the bar at the Beverly Wilshire. Drinking alone. Don't tell anyone.I stare at my phone for a full ten seconds.Three weeks of charm offensive.Orchids.A handwritten card after the gala.Several coffees dropped at the Stein M&A reception desk with a note that said only thinking of you.A text every other day that asked nothing, demanded nothing, and made it clear that if she ever wanted company that did not have an agenda, the offer stood.She has finally taken me up on it.Persistence always pays off.I type back, Be there in twenty.I make it in fifteen.She’s in a back booth in a red silk blouse that drapes her frame in a way that would make angels weep.Her hair is down, which is not how she wears it to the office.She honestly is the most breathtakingly beautiful woman I’ve ever met.There’s a half-empty whisky in front of her and a full one beside it, which tells me everything about the pace.I slide in across from her."N