All Chapters of From Ex-wife to his Uncle's Obsession : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

(Celeste’s POV) Stefano shot up from the chair, his face a mask of dark fury. He paced the length of the VIP hospital suite, his expensive leather shoes clicking sharply against the linoleum. "If you are actually pregnant, Celeste, why the hell would you joke about it?" he snapped, spinning around to point a finger at me. "Is this jealousy? Are you that angry? You do not use an unborn Conti heir as a bargaining chip. That is low, even for you." I sat perfectly still, watching him unravel. "You will take this check," he commanded, his voice dropping into a growl. "Ten million dollars. And I am adding a clause. I will use my personal network in the medical field. I guarantee a stem cell donor for Luca within two months." I narrowed my eyes, studying the man I had once loved. It was almost laughable. He was hopelessly devoted to Tiziana, yet completely obsessed with the idea of the child I supposedly carried. The thought twisted in my stomach. Would he take the baby after birth

(First Person POV — Tiziana) The Italian restaurant was quiet at noon, wrapped in white tablecloths and soft piano music that softened every expression and made even the faintest crack in a voice feel delicate. I chose it deliberately, because a place like this turned tears into something almost elegant, something people did not question too closely. It took me three days to get Serena to sit across from me like this. Three days of carefully timed calls, gentle persistence, a few soft sobs placed exactly where they would have the most effect, and a subtle reminder that we were practically family whether she wanted to admit it or not. “I just need you to understand,” I said, letting my voice tremble as I met her eyes, “I am not that kind of woman. I would never deliberately destroy a marriage. Never.” Serena shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers brushing the rim of her glass. “Tiziana, I didn’t say you did.” “But you’ve been avoiding me,” I pressed, lifting a folded napkin to

(Author’s POV) Stefano Conti stood frozen, his gaze locked on the empty doorway where Celeste Moretti had just disappeared. A tight knot of unease twisted deep in his chest, growing heavier with every passing second. Just before she vanished, he had seen it clearly, the way her hand flew instinctively to her stomach. Had she hit it when he shoved her? The thought sent a cold rush through his veins. She was supposed to be three months pregnant, yet there had been nothing full or radiant about her. She had looked fragile, almost hollow, her frame too thin, her presence too faint. Instead of carrying life, she had looked like something slowly fading away. “Daddy!” Bianca Conti huffed from the bed, crossing her arms with childish irritation. “Stop looking at the door. Are you thinking about that bad woman again?” Stefano blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He forced a stiff smile onto his face and reached out to pat Bianca’s head, though his attention was already drifting elsewh

(Author’s POV) It was close to eleven at night when Stefano Conti finally stepped through the grand doors of the Conti family estate. He had expected darkness and silence, but instead, the living room was brightly lit, the atmosphere tense. Adelina sat upright on the velvet sofa, her posture rigid, her expression sharp and unyielding. Stefano paused, caught off guard. “Mother? Why are you still awake?” Her eyes swept over him slowly, cold and calculating. “I thought you were taking Bianca away for a few days. Why are you back here alone?” Stefano shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. “Everything is under control,” he said, though his voice betrayed him. “Bianca insisted on staying. She is enjoying herself. I had urgent matters at Vitale Group International, so I asked Tiziana to remain with her. I will return in two days.” Adelina let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I was not aware that a hospital had been built along the shores of Malib

(Celeste’s POV) We returned to the private room of the Michelin-starred restaurant. Vincenzo Conti pulled out my chair before taking his own seat across from me, his movements smooth and deliberate. He handed me the menu as though this was the most natural thing in the world. “Order whatever you like,” he said. I opened the heavy leather folio and immediately noticed it was a ladies’ menu. There were no prices listed beside the dishes. My stomach tightened. I quickly calculated in my head based on the reputation of the place. The bill would be outrageous. Still, I had offered to pay, and I was not the kind of woman who went back on her word. “I’ll have the Filet Mignon and the Truffle Risotto,” I said, keeping my tone steady. Vincenzo barely glanced at the waiter. “Add the Escargots for an appetizer and the Chocolate Soufflé for dessert. And a bottle of sparkling water.” The waiter nodded with a practiced smile and slipped out, the heavy door clicking shut behind him. Silenc