Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife: Capítulo 451 - Capítulo 460

MiaGetting three children ready to go anywhere is always a production, but today it feels especially chaotic, like the universe is conspiring to delay us, to give me more time to reconsider this decision, to back out and send Kyle away and keep my new house separate from this complicated mess of our almost-relationship.Alexander is upside down on his bed when I open the door, his feet planted against the wall, his face red with the rush of blood, his shirt riding up to expose his pale belly."Why are you upside down?" I ask, even though I know better than to expect a reasonable answer."Practicing being a bat," he announces, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. His voice sounds congested, thick, all the blood settling in his head making him sound like he's underwater."Why do you need to practice being a bat?""In case I need to be a bat someday. Ethan says it's good to have diverse skills. I'm diversifying."I look over at Ethan, who's sitting on his own bed with a bo

Mia's POVAlexander's voice echoes from somewhere upstairs. "THERE'S A CLOSET UNDER THE STAIRS!"His footsteps thunder across the ceiling. Then Ethan's voice, quieter, more measured: "That's not under the stairs. We're on the second floor. There are no stairs above us.""It's a SECRET closet then!""Alexander, all closets are 'secret' until you open them. That's just how closets work."I'm still standing in the living room. Kyle is still at the kitchen counter. His hand has moved from the grout lines to the edge of the sink. Stainless steel. Undermount. Deep basin. I'd specified the gauge of the steel. Eighteen gauge. Heavy duty.Madison tugs my hand again. "Mama, can I go upstairs?""Of course. Be careful on the stairs.""I will."She lets go and walks toward the staircase. Her steps are careful. Deliberate. One hand trailing along the wall as she climbs.The stairs are hardwood with a simple black metal railing. No carpeting. I'd wanted to be able to hear the children moving through

Mia's POVThe cold hits immediately. November in New York. The kind of cold that makes your nose run and your fingers ache.I should have grabbed a jacket.Kyle steps out behind me. He's wearing a sweater. Cashmere probably. "MAMA!" Alexander waves from the far side of the yard. He's standing on top of a pile of leaves that reaches his knees. "LOOK HOW BIG IT IS!"Ethan is still adding to it. Methodical. Carrying armfuls from under the oak tree. His systematic approach to leaf-pile construction.Madison is sitting at the base of the tree. She's arranged leaves in a circle around herself. Some kind of pattern. Colors alternating."Come down here!" Alexander shouts. "Come see!"I walk down the deck steps. My socks immediately soak through. The grass is wet and cold.Kyle follows. His shoes making soft sounds on the wood. Then on the grass."It's freezing," I say. To no one in particular."Yes.""We should have brought jackets.""Probably.""The children are going to catch cold.""They'

Mia's POV"Three," Kyle says.His hand on my hip tightens. I can feel each finger through the denim. The pressure is specific. Deliberate.He lifts. I push. We move together in a way that feels practiced even though it's not. Has never been.I'm up. On my feet. Swaying slightly because the leaves under me shift and my socks are completely soaked through and my legs have that shaky feeling from adrenaline or cold or something else.Kyle stands too. Brushes leaves off his sweater. They cling to the cashmere. Static. He has to pick them off one by one.The children have stopped chanting. They're watching us with that focused attention kids get when adults do something interesting."That was close," Alexander announces. "You almost kissed.""We didn't almost kiss," I say. My voice comes out too sharp. "We fell. That's different.""You were really close though." He holds his hands up, making a tiny gap between his thumb and finger. "Like this close.""Alexander—""I could see it. Your face

Mia's POVI stop walking.I lean against the hallway wall. Cross my arms. This should be good.The girl flips her ponytail. I remember doing that move. In high school. A thousand years ago when I thought hair-flipping was subtle.Kyle says something. I'm too far to hear but I can see his posture. Polite. Reserved. That particular stiffness he gets when someone is invading his personal space and he's trying not to be rude about it.The girl laughs again. Too loud for whatever he said. Her hand comes up. Touches his arm. Her fingers lingering on his forearm.I bite my lip to keep from smiling.He's going to hate this. Kyle hates unsolicited touching. Always has. In college once, a girl grabbed his arm at a party and he literally flinched away like she'd burned him.Sure enough, Kyle steps back. Just slightly. Enough to dislodge her hand without being obvious about it.The girl doesn't notice. Or doesn't care. She shifts closer. Closing the distance he just created."Single dad? That's l