All Chapters of A New Babysitter and the Billionaire Widower: Chapter 131 - Chapter 140

The campus felt different that morning. The sun seemed shyer, as if hesitating to light the day. I parked my motorcycle, took off my helmet, and looked around for her.Nothing.No Giulia waiting for me at the entrance with that sleepy smile and her hair tied in a messy bun. No coffee she always held for me, even though she knew I complained about the taste. That left me unsettled, as if I had forgotten something important at home.I grabbed my phone and sent a message."Good morning, missing person. Is everything okay?"It took a few minutes for the reply to come. Long enough for my mind to fabricate a thousand absurd reasons for her absence."Hi… I decided to stay home today. Still a bit sick with that flu, you know? Thought it was better to rest."I sighed, relieved. But something in that message still felt strange. Distant. Too cold for someone who, two days earlier, had slept with her head on my chest while I stroked her ha

The walls of the Crawford mansion seemed even larger than last time. Every step through the entrance hall echoed louder than the last, and everything inside me begged me to turn back. But I couldn't. Not anymore. I had already come this far, and my child — my child! — deserved the truth.Noah's father looked at me as if I were just another unwanted visitor. His icy gaze cut through my skin. He didn't invite me in but turned and said in a firm voice:"This way."I followed his steps to a large office, decorated with dark furniture and heavy curtains. The smell of leather and tobacco permeated the room, and I felt even smaller inside that space where everything screamed "power.""Serve tea to the young lady," he said to one of the maids passing through the hallway.The woman nodded and left silently. I sat in the armchair in front of the desk, clutching my fingers in my lap, while he took his place behind the desk as if I were an unruly s

ONE YEAR AND TWO MONTHS LATER...Just thinking about that name warms my chest. I don't know if it's the climate, the architecture, or the strange sense of freedom this city seems to promise. But as I crossed the skies and watched the buildings approach through the airplane window, I felt as if I was landing not only in another country — but in a new version of myself.A year and two months ago, I was just a frustrated medical student trying to please my father. Today, I am here, in one of Europe's cultural capitals, about to set up my first exhibition outside Italy. My first solo exhibition. Mine.It wasn't easy. None of this came for free.After leaving home, I lived for a few months with Mateo, my best friend and the owner of the gallery where it all began. It was there that I immersed myself in paint, in charcoal, in brushes, and in pain. Because yes, the pain was still there — and, in a way, it still is. Giulia never left me. The way she l

The Madrid sun streamed through the thin curtains of the rented apartment, illuminating the room with a golden, lazy light. I had woken up early, even after a restless night. Between travels, gallery meetings, and the final adjustments for my first exhibition, my body begged for rest, but my mind wouldn't shut off.I sat before the blank canvas, brushes scattered across the makeshift table as if judging me. I tried to paint. I tried to let color guide my hand, but the ideas came out fragmented, broken. Ever since I arrived in Madrid, I felt something different… as if every street called to me, as if something was about to happen.I ended up putting down the brushes and went for a walk through the gallery district. It was a lively area, where artists displayed their work on the sidewalks and crowded cafes hosted conversations in different languages. The old facades with flowered balconies reminded me of a color palette I wanted to capture on canvas forever.I walked slowly, letting my

The day seemed longer than any other since I arrived in Madrid. When the last customer left and the café finally fell empty, I took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension still gripping my shoulders. The conversation with Noah echoed in my mind in every detail — the shock in his eyes, the wounded tone of his voice, the question that shattered my heart: "Did you stop loving me?"I put away the last utensils, turned off the lights, and locked the café door. Vicente and Clara had already left, and I sent them home early because I needed a moment alone. Today, every sound, every movement felt larger than I could bear.Night fell over Madrid, painting the streets orange and blue. The reflection of the lampposts illuminated my car window as I got in and closed the door, the muffled sound giving me a strange sense of protection. I placed my hands on the steering wheel, took a deep breath, and tried to control the trembling that insisted on taking over my fingers.I