All Chapters of She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

(Sonia)I’ve been pleasant for three weeks.Three. Weeks. It feels like an eon.I’ve asked about potassium levels.I’ve relayed information to Eleanor with painful sincerity and a straight face.I’ve sat through approximately nine thousand conversations about feeding schedules and scan results and whether Lily's urine was the right colour, and I have not once said what I actually think, which is that I did not sign up for any of this.I need to vent to someone who won't judge me, so I call Julian.We meet at the bar on Sixth, because it has good lighting and I deserve good lighting after what I've been through."You look tired," Julian says, which is outrageous because I look fantastic."I've been pleasant for three weeks."He winces. "God. How bad is it?""I keep asking about her potassium levels, Julian. I don't even know what potassium is. I had to Google it in the bathroom the first time and I’m still not actually sure."He picks up his drink to hide his smile, but I see it."And

(Gloria)I have attended enough industry parties to know that the real entertainment is never the canapés.It's the people in the room.Specifically, tonight, it's the corner near the bar where Nathanial is standing with a glass of scotch.Wearing the expression of a man who’s recently had his entire personal history rewritten and isn’t quite sure what to do with the new edition.Sonia is across the room in ivory silk, positioned at Chase's elbow like a very elegant barnacle.And Piper, who apparently decided that flying home could wait, is in black, near the window, talking to no one and watching everything with the focus of someone who came here specifically to monitor a situation.I know all of this because I’ve been keeping track of each and every one of them.I also know that the three of them have not yet been in the same area of the room tonight.That’s about to change, because Piper is moving in Nathanial’s direction.I follow at a distance that could plausibly be described as

(Nathanial)My mother has put flowers on every surface.It's a good instinct.Flowers fill space, give the eye somewhere to land, make a house feel inhabited rather than merely occupied.She’s thought carefully about this afternoon and it shows.What she hasn't thought about, or perhaps has thought about too much and decided to face anyway, is that this house remembers everything.I can feel it the moment I walk through the door.The layout is the same.The smell is almost the same. Sea salt and old timber.Something particular to this stretch of coast that I haven't encountered anywhere else.I was twelve years old the last time I stood in this hallway.I make the appropriate noises, admire what my mother has done with the place, accept a glass of something and then find the first excuse to take it outside.We haven’t made peace since our last conversation, where she continued to refuse to discuss her reasons for leaving.But our family is nothing if not fantastic at pretending to be

(Julian)Natasha isn't here.I established this within thirty seconds of arriving and have been quietly disappointed about it ever since.Work emergency, apparently.I accept a glass of red wine from a tray and conduct a swift survey of the room.Clarice first, because Clarice is the reason we're here and therefore the most important variable.She's holding up better than I expected.My stepmother, and I use the term loosely, out of technical accuracy rather than affection, has always operated best when she has an audience and a role, and today she has both.The fragile beauty in the ancestral home, facing her ghosts with tremendous courage.She's doing it very well.Her angst may even be real. Who the hell knows.I’ve just never bought that someone can be distraught for an entire lifetime and never really tell anyone why.Unless the reason is ridiculous, or criminal.She wasn't a bad stepmother, truly.She remembered our birthdays.She asked questions about our lives and listened to

(Natasha)I pick my moment carefully.Sunday morning, after Lily's early feed, before Sonia and Eleanor are moving about.The other night in the nursery, when they came back from Sonia’s mother’s beach house, made it clear that we can’t continue this way.Chase is in the kitchen with coffee, looking like a man who hasn't fully committed to the day yet.It’s just the two of us and the pale morning light coming through the window.I have notes.Not physical notes, I'm not going to stand here and make it look like a business proposal, but the mental kind, organized and ordered, every point considered from multiple angles.I am calm. I am reasonable. I am prepared."I want to talk about the divorce," I say.He looks up from his coffee.Something shifts in his expression. A subtle tightening, like a door swinging quietly closed, but he says nothing, so I continue."I'm not looking for a fight," I tell him."I want to find something workable. Something that gives Lily stability and protects