All Chapters of She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife: Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

(Clarice)There are eleven letters in front of me.I have laid them out in two neat rows on the kitchen table.The way I used to lay out invitations when I planned dinners for two hundred.Five on the left. Six on the right. Each one stopped at a different sentence.Letter one. Dear Natasha. I am writing to say what I should have said a long time —Letter two. Dear Natasha. There are a number of things I think you should hear from me rather than —Letter three. Natasha. Please.That one took me four hours.Letter four. Dear Natasha. Your father —Obviously I couldn’t use that one. Will isn’t to blame for any of this.Letter five was ready to go.I had it folded and in the envelope.I walked it to the box at the gate and stood with my hand on the slot for two minutes and brought it back inside.Letters six through ten are variations on more opening lines I can’t finish because there’s no good way to say what I need to say.Letter eleven is what I’m working on now.If by working I mean

(Piper)I was so sure Nathanial and Gloria were over once and for all after he stood her up the last time.She told him they should just be friends.She finally saw the truth.That he’d never put her on the pedestal she deserves.But here we are, a few weeks later, and she’s letting him off the hook again.Putting her heart on the line for another chance at happiness with my step-brother.Natasha pleaded his case and Gloria decided this wasn’t the same as Sonia’s contrived emergencies.Lily was sick. Natasha found out she was his sister.He could be forgiven for being overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation.Just this once.But it’s not just this once. It’s a pattern. And Gloria has to end this before he breaks her heart again.I’m at the dressing table in a silk robe and bare face because there’s nobody coming and nobody to perform for.The lipstick on the marble in front of me is a tube of the same shade of red I’ve been buying since I was twenty-two.Habit, not vanity.I pick

(Natasha)My week is going exceptionally well, which should have been my first warning.The panel went smoothly on Monday.Bauer's lawyers fold by Tuesday.Lily slept eight hours straight last night for the first time since the transfusion.I leave the office at six thirty with half a chocolate eclair in my hand because Priya keeps a bag of them in the small fridge under her desk and has decided I’m too thin.The garage on level B2 is the usual at this hour.Very little foot traffic.Most employees are on their way home already.The fluorescent strip above the lift bay is flickering. I’ll have to get maintenance to take care of that tomorrow.My white Volvo is in my personal parking space.I press the unlock on the fob, licking cream from the corner of my mouth, and the lights blink twice at me from the far end of the row.A white laundry van is parked two slots over from mine. Engine running quietly.I guess they’re running late today. They usually drop the tablecloths and things by

(Natasha)The drive is gravel and long enough to make a point.Two full minutes of crunch.The kind of approach you build when you don't want neighbors.The driver kills the engine.The man from the passenger seat comes round, opens my door, cuts the zip ties with a small folding knife in three controlled motions.I rub the welts and don't thank him.Thank you would be wrong on every conceivable level.Jeffrey Bauer is waiting on the porch.He’s wearing a sport coat with an open collar and the expression of a man who’s rehearsed smiling in a mirror."Natasha."He says it the way people say finally.He’s cooked me dinner.The dining table is laid for two.White table cloth, candles in silver holders, a platter under a domed lid on the sideboard.The French doors at the far end open onto a flagstone terrace.I take careful note of where all the exits are.Doors and windows.Any place with an opening large enough for me to crawl out of.Jeffrey pulls out my chair like we’re on a date.My

(Clarice)It feels like the kitchen has shrunk to the size of a doll’s house.After Natasha's kidnapping I realized that I couldn’t put this off any longer.And not only because of the sword James is holding over my head.The truth is unlikely to give me my eldest daughter and my son back, but if there’s even the faintest chance that they could forgive me, I have to take it.If Natasha can see past the fact that I abandoned her, maybe she can get past the truth of my character as well.With time.Holding her in my arms the other night, realizing part of her still craved comfort from her mother, ignited a flame of hope in my heart.Then she and Nathanial ganged up on me, demanding the truth.Natasha is at the table.Hands flat on the wood.She hasn’t touched the tea I made her.Nathaniel is by the sink. Arms folded.I sit down. I don’t know where to put my hands."I'm going to tell you everything," I say. "I know I’m going to tell it badly because there’s no good way to say any of this