All Chapters of Billionaire Regret: Gone with Our Newborn: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Marcus's POVI stood silently by the wheelchair, watching Evelyn's elegant, perfectly composed exit. Her retreating figure left Blair practically vibrating with an ugly, unhinged rage.I was genuinely astonished. Was this really Evelyn Hawthorne? The woman who used to be a complete pushover? I distinctly remembered when Blair had "accidentally" spilled hot coffee on Evelyn's dress last year. The old Evelyn had just smiled apologetically and endured the humiliation. But today, the way she effortlessly reduced Blair to a desperate copycat obsessing over her "leftovers" was executed with the lethal, elegant precision of a master assassin. The "rearview mirror" takedown was a masterclass in psychological warfare."Did you see that?!" Blair shrieked. "The absolute nerve of that woman! She's completely changed. There's no way she's acting like this unless she's hiding some massive secret. Marcus, I want you to investigate her medical records immediately!""Miss Reed," I replied coolly. "My

Evelyn's POV"Will you be staying home tonight?"The question left my lips before I could overthink it. My voice was clear and surprisingly steady, hanging in the heavy air of the study. The butler, caught entirely off guard by my sudden, unprecedented directness, widened his eyes. He looked from my rigid posture to Sebastian's desk, instantly recognizing that the dynamic in the room had fundamentally shifted. Knowing his place, he bowed his head slightly. "I will leave you both to discuss your evening plans," he murmured, quickly stepping out and pulling the heavy mahogany door shut with a soft, final click.The silence that followed was electric, dense enough to cut with a knife. Sebastian slowly leaned back in his high-backed leather chair. The freezing, corporate dismissal from moments ago completely vanished. Instead, his dark eyes locked onto mine, his gaze transforming into something intensely gentle, yet incredibly probing."Do you want me to stay?" he asked. His voice had d

Evelyn's POVSebastian gestured toward the leather chair across from his desk. "Stay as long as you'd like."I settled into the chair, carefully tucking my feet beneath my nightgown. The study was warm, filled with the soft glow of the desk lamp and the soothing aroma of jasmine tea.He picked up a piece of the ciabatta and took a bite. I watched, holding my breath slightly. His usually stoic expression shifted to one of genuine surprise."This is excellent," he said, his dark eyes looking up at me with sharp appreciation. "The herb blend on the beef is incredibly balanced. It's not the standard heavy seasoning."A flutter of quiet pride warmed my chest. "It's a specific combination of fresh rosemary and thyme, but the secret is the finishing salt. It's hand-infused with dried Meyer lemon zest."Sebastian set his fork down, giving me his complete, undivided attention. "Where did you learn this level of detail? I don't think I've seen anything this meticulous even in Marcus's culinary j

Evelyn's POVThe distinct hum of Sebastian's Maybach pulling into the driveway sent my pulse racing. I glanced at the antique wall clock—nearly midnight. With merely 13 days left before I left him forever, my nerves were constantly on edge.He never came home this late unless something was wrong.I hurried downstairs, my hand nervously smoothing the silk of my robe. When he stepped through the front oak door, I was waiting in the foyer, automatically stepping into the role of the attentive wife."Sebastian," I said warmly, stepping forward to take his tailored coat. "You're home late. Can I get you anything? Some hot tea, or—""Did you go to the hospital this week?"His question cut through my polite greeting.I froze mid-step, my hand still extended in the air. The absolute directness of his inquiry, and the sharp, probing way his dark eyes were studying my face—it caught me completely off guard.My mind raced frantically. There was only one way he could know. Marcus. The assistant

Sebastian's POVI stood at the bottom of the grand staircase, my hand resting on the polished banister as I watched Evelyn's retreating figure. The way she had just fled—her usually pale cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, her movements hurried and completely devoid of her usual careful grace—was fascinating.It was entirely at odds with the cold, calculating woman I had always imagined her to be.For years, I had operated under the strict assumption that Evelyn was a masterful, ambitious schemer. The Hawthorne family had drilled absolute caution into my bones since childhood. I was taught to be suspicious of everyone's motives, to assume that every smile was a weapon, every act of kindness a transaction, and that innocence was always a performance. I believed she was just a spy planted by my stepmother, biding her time.But watching her just now...My mind raced, pulling up memories from the past few weeks. If she was a spy, why did she look so genuinely panicked when I pulled her