Todos los capítulos de A Second Chance For The Billionaire: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

The smell of fresh herbs filled the kitchen. Rose stirred the hot water with the wooden spoon, explaining to me, with the patience of someone who had taught the same recipe a thousand times, how to prepare the perfect calming tea."Chamomile is the base, but the secret is the combination with lemon balm," she said, smiling softly, the colorful scarf she always wore tied in her hair swaying as she leaned in to check the brew. "This mixture not only calms the body, but also the heart."I watched her gestures, small and firm, and felt strangely at peace. The steam rose from the kettle and fogged up the window, where the city stretched out, distant, indifferent. The soft sound of the spoon tapping against the cup reminded me of sounds from my childhood that I thought I had forgotten.

The penthouse door closed behind me, muffling the distant sound of the city. Silence greeted me, broken only by the ticking of the clock on the wall and the low sound of the television in the living room.I left my jacket on the sofa and loosened my tie, feeling the weight of the day fall from my shoulders. It was late, but the apartment was bathed in a calm twilight, lit only by the yellowish lights coming from the kitchen. That's when I saw her—Manu was sleeping curled up on the sofa, her loose hair spread over the pillow, her face peaceful, almost serene.In the center of the coffee table, the bouquet of flowers I had sent was there. The petals still fresh, the ribbon bow undone, as if it had been opened in a hurry.I sat down beside her, wa

The afternoon breeze came in gently through the balcony, bringing the light scent of the flowers Rose cared for with such affection. The leaves of the plants swayed in a lazy rhythm, and the distant sound of the city was almost a reminder that the world outside kept spinning—even as I seemed to stand still in time.The days of rest had turned into an eternal Sunday. I read, napped, ate what Rose insisted on giving me, and spent a good part of the time thinking too much. Thinking about Ravi. Thinking about the baby. Thinking about everything that still scared me.When the doorbell rang in the morning, I thought it was the doctor, but it was a delivery man with a huge box, wrapped in light blue ribbon. On the label, only: "So that time passes more lightly. — Ravi."I opened the package slowly and found about five books—all about motherhood, humanized childbirth, first care, nutrition, and even a pregnancy journal with space to write down each week.I felt my chest tighten.Ravi could be

The bar was packed, the smell of stale beer and fried grease mixing with the hoarse sound of cheap blues. It was the kind of place where no one paid attention to anyone—perfect for what I needed to do. I sat in the darkest corner, facing the door, and ordered a double whiskey. The glass sweated in my hands before I even took the first sip.My contact arrived fifteen minutes later. Chief Marcos Duarte, an investigator long enough to know that there are certain conversations you don't have inside a police station. "Roger," he greeted me, looking around, as if the bar's heavy air could stick a reputation to him. "What the hell do you want with me in a place like this?"I smiled from the corner of my mouth. "I thought you liked discreet environments."

The silence of the penthouse slowly swallowed me.There were days when it felt like an embrace—welcoming, calm, safe. But today… today it was suffocating.The clock showed just past three in the afternoon, and I had already counted how many times the wind had swayed the curtains, how many pregnancy books were stacked on the coffee table, and even how many white tiles there were in the kitchen.Three days.Only three days until the next doctor's appointment, three days until I might hear from the doctor that I could return to a slightly more active routine—walking, doing something on my own, feeling like I still existed outside the sofa, the bed, or that colossal balcony that felt like a gilded cage.