All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Obsession: My Ex‑Wife Became a Queen: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

Victoria woke to sunlight and the sound of a heart monitor.She was in a hospital room—not the one she remembered, but a different one, smaller, with a window that faced a brick wall instead of the garden. Her body ached. Her head was foggy. And her hand was wrapped in Nathaniel's, his grip so tight it was almost painful.“You're awake,” he said. His voice was hoarse, wrecked. “You're awake.”“The baby,” Victoria whispered. “Where's the baby?”“He's fine. He's perfect. He's in the NICU, but he's fine.” Nathaniel pressed his forehead to her hand. “You scared me. You scared me so much.”“What happened?”“Placental abruption. Emergency C-section. You lost a lot of blood.” He looked up at her, his eyes red-rimmed. “They had to put you under. You've been out for almost two days.”Two days. Victoria tried to process that, but her brain was sluggish, uncooperative. “Can I see him?”“Soon. You need to rest first.”“I want to see my son.”Nathaniel hesitated. Then he nodded. “I'll get the nurs

The bleeding started without warning.Victoria had been sitting up in bed, propped against pillows, Michael asleep in the bassinet beside her. She was feeling stronger that morning—the fog of the past weeks finally lifting, the exhaustion beginning to fade. She had even talked to Nathaniel about maybe, possibly, taking a short walk around the garden later that day.Then she felt it. A rush of warmth. A spreading stain on the sheets.She looked down at the blood and felt the world tilt sideways.“Nathaniel,” she called, her voice remarkably calm. “Nathaniel, come here.”He was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He appeared in the doorway, toothbrush still in hand, and froze.“Don't panic,” Victoria said. “But I'm bleeding. A lot.”He didn't panic. He moved. In the space of a breath, he was at her side, pressing the call button, shouting for help, holding her hand with a grip that would leave bruises. Victoria was grateful for the bruises. They meant she was still there to feel them.

Nathaniel Hamilton had cried three times in his adult life before Michael was born.The first time was at his father’s funeral, not because he missed the man—he didn’t—but because of the weight of everything unsaid, everything that would never be resolved. The second time was when he married Victoria, watching her walk down the aisle in Margaret’s garden, unable to believe that someone like her could love someone like him. The third time was when Victoria almost died from the poison, holding her limp hand in the ambulance, bargaining with a God he wasn’t sure existed.Since Michael’s birth, he had cried almost every day.Not in front of anyone—he was careful about that. He waited until the house was quiet, until Victoria was asleep, until Liam was in bed and Patricia had gone home. Then he sat in the nursery, Michael in his arms, and let the tears come.He cried because he was tired. He cried because he was scared. He cried because every time he looked at his son, he saw everything he

The letter arrived on a Wednesday, in an envelope that smelled faintly of lavender. Patricia recognized the handwriting immediately—her own, from decades ago—and felt her heart stop.She was sitting in the kitchen of the brownstone, a cup of tea growing cold beside her. Michael was asleep in the nursery. Victoria was at the institute. Nathaniel was at work. Liam was at school. She was alone.She opened the envelope with trembling hands.Inside was a single sheet of paper, yellowed with age, covered in her own youthful script. A letter she had written to Nathaniel when he was a baby, never sent, hidden away in a box she had forgotten existed.My dearest Nathaniel,You are three months old today. Your father is away on business, as usual. The nurse is asleep in the guest room. And I am sitting here, in the dark, holding you, wondering if I am capable of loving you the way you deserve.I didn't want to be a mother. I don't know if I've ever told anyone that—I certainly haven't told your

The society pages had been speculating for months. “Marcus Chen, the billionaire tech mogul, has found love at last,” the headlines read. “But who is the mysterious woman who captured his heart?”Jenna, it turned out, was not mysterious at all. She was a kindergarten teacher from New Jersey, a divorced mother of two, a woman who had never owned a pair of designer shoes and didn't care to. She was also, by all accounts, one of the kindest people Victoria had ever met.The wedding was scheduled for the first weekend in June, at a small vineyard in the Hudson Valley. Jenna had wanted something intimate—just family, just close friends—but Marcus's guest list had a way of expanding. By the time the invitations went out, nearly two hundred people were expected.“It's not a wedding,” Patricia said, reviewing the guest list. “It's a corporate retreat.”“It's a celebration,” Victoria replied. “And Jenna is handling it beautifully.”Jenna was, in fact, handling it with a calm that Victoria envi