Todos los capítulos de A Second Chance For The Billionaire: Capítulo 21 - Capítulo 30

I had just stepped out of a meeting with German investors when I asked my secretary to give me half an hour without interruptions. The real estate agent was already waiting for me in the reception area, always punctual, and as soon as he entered my office, he carried a leather folder and a tablet in his hands."Mr. Bonetti," he greeted me with a professional smile, and I led him to the meeting table in the corner of the room. I asked for coffee to be brought and sat down, crossing my hands on the table.He opened the folder and began organizing the papers with meticulous efficiency."You mentioned urgency, so I brought some options that might suit you. All of them are close to your penthouse, in high-end areas, with 24-hour security and complete infrastructure."I nodded in silence, my eyes fixed on the images appearing on the tablet. I didn't just want walls and a roof for her. I needed something solid, safe—where Manu could breathe in peace and my daughter could have space to grow w

The clock on the car dashboard read 8 a.m. when I parked in front of the café. I had spent the entire night reviewing the documents in the folder about the apartments.I chose three that could be perfect for Manu and the baby, every detail measured as if I could already see the two of them living there, safe, far from the hell she called a marriage.I pushed open the glass door, feeling the strong aroma of fresh coffee. My eyes scanned every table, every corner, but she wasn't there. Strange. Manu wasn't the type to be late—I had already noticed that in all the small encounters we'd had.I ordered a black coffee, trying to hide my anxiety, but my fingers drummed against the folder. Minutes dragged by and nothing from her. An uncomfortabl

The smell of the hospital is already suffocating me. Two days lying in this bed, staring at the same white walls, hearing the same sounds—hurried footsteps, the monitor's beep, the squeak of the nurses' cart.Two days that feel like two weeks.I never imagined that resting could be so exhausting.My body doesn't hurt as much as my head, doesn't hurt as much as this feeling of being trapped, unable to do anything. I've always been driven by work, by effort, by the habit of solving everything with my own hands.Now, every time I try to get up beyond what the doctors allow, someone appears to remind me that I can't, that I need to rest, that my body needs calm.

The steam from the bathroom enveloped me like an unexpected embrace. I stood there, in front of the bathtub, almost unable to believe it was real. It had been so long since I'd known what it was like to take a shower without fear. Fear of the door being opened at any moment, fear of screams, of accusations, of being ripped from that small moment of peace.My chest tightened. I had forgotten what it felt like to be safe.The bathtub was full, the water releasing a light lavender scent. Around it, on the edge, rested bottles of liquid soaps, bath salts, creams... all new, sealed, as if they had just come from the store. They were things that would never have a place in my world. And yet, they were there, clearly bought for me.My fingers trembled as I took off my robe and dipped one foot into the water. The warmth enveloped my skin, sending goosebumps across my entire body. I stepped in slowly, feeling my whole body give in. It was as if every part of me had been

I woke up with a strange feeling. For the first time in months, perhaps years, my body didn't feel heavy with fear, but just heavy with sleep. The mattress was so soft it seemed to hug me, and the warmth around me didn't come only from the covers.It took me a few seconds to understand what was happening.Ravi's arms were firm around me, like a chain that didn't trap me but protected me. I was nestled against his chest, his strong, steady heart beating against my back.I smiled slightly, without meaning to. It felt wrong, dangerous, but at the same time... so good.Except my bladder didn't share that comfort.I sighed softly a