All Chapters of The Billionaire’s Wife Revenge Plot : Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Jessica and James arrived together on Saturday morning, barely through the front door before Jessica had crossed the entryway and pulled me into an enthusiastic hug that lifted me slightly off my feet."I still can't believe it," she said, pulling back to study my face with obvious delight. "A baby, Lily. I'm going to be an aunt.""You're already an aunt," I reminded her, laughing. "Alena's been calling you Auntie Jess for weeks now.""Yes, but this one I get to know from the very beginning." Her enthusiasm carried an infectious warmth that made even Alexander, standing behind me, break into an easy smile. "How are you feeling? Are you nauseous? I read that the first trimester can be brutal. Do you need anything? Ginger tea, crackers, anything at all?""Jessica." I laughed, holding up both hands in gentle surrender. "I'm fine. Genuinely. A little tired, some mild queasiness in the mornings, but nothing unmanageable.""She's exaggerating how fine she is," Alexander said, settling his h

Everything felt like too much at once, these past few days. The missing funds investigation had stalled somewhere in Max’s careful, methodical process, each update carrying more questions than answers, more shell accounts traced back to dead ends rather than the clear culprit I desperately wanted named. The board had grown restless, several members pushing for a public statement I wasn't yet ready to make, uncertain how much transparency would help versus how much might simply invite further scrutiny before we'd properly identified the threat. And now, as though my body had decided the emotional exhaustion wasn't quite enough on its own, the morning sickness had arrived in full, unforgiving force. I woke that particular Thursday already nauseous, the familiar rolling discomfort settling deep in my stomach before I'd even properly opened my eyes, and made it to the bathroom with barely a moment to spare. Alexander found me there minutes later, kneeling on the cool tile, my forehead

Alexander’s pov Lily came home earlier than usual that evening, something I'd noticed happening more frequently over these past few weeks as the pregnancy advanced and her body demanded rest in ways her stubborn determination usually resisted. I'd been quietly grateful for it, even as I worried about what it meant that she needed the extra hours to function properly through each day. I found her already upstairs when I arrived home myself, kneeling beside the bathtub while Alena splashed enthusiastically in the warm water, her small giggles echoing through the bathroom with the particular unguarded delight only bath time seemed to properly inspire. "Dada!" Alena announced, spotting me in the doorway, one small wet hand slapping the water's surface with enthusiastic force that sent droplets scattering across Lily's already damp shirt. "Hey, sweetheart." I crouched down beside them both, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Lily's head. "How was your day?" "Tiring," she admitted, thou

Lily's POV Home didn't feel like home the first evening back. Everything looked exactly as I'd left it, the same soft grey throw folded over the back of the sofa, the same small collection of Alena's toys scattered across the living room rug where Margaret had clearly given up trying to keep them contained. But I stood in the doorway a long moment before I could make myself step through it properly, some strange, disorienting gap opening up between the woman who'd left this apartment three days ago and the one walking back into it now. *You have a tumor in your brain.* I'd said the words to myself so many times since Alexander first told me that they'd started to lose their shape, the way any word does when you repeat it past the point of meaning. Tumor. Surgery. Complications. I turned them over and over, waiting for them to finally land properly, and mostly they just sat there, heavy and strange, refusing to settle into anything I could actually hold. Alexander's hand found the

Lily's POV Alena had started following me from room to room. Not in the ordinary, curious way toddlers sometimes did, trailing behind out of simple boredom or the desire to be wherever the interesting people were. This was different. Deliberate. She'd toddle after me into the kitchen and simply stand there, watching, one small hand fisted in the hem of my shirt, as though she suspected that letting go might mean I wouldn't be there when she looked again. I noticed it properly on a Tuesday morning, standing at the counter waiting for the kettle to boil, and glanced down to find her sitting cross-legged on the tile at my feet, patient in a way she'd never once managed before, simply waiting for me to finish whatever I was doing so she could be picked up again. "You're my little shadow lately, aren't you?" I crouched down, scooping her up despite the small ache it put in my lower back these days, and she immediately pressed her face into my neck, a small, contented sigh escaping her.