The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 109: Never to love

Rafael didn’t flinch. "Yeah. I do."

Ethan’s fists clenched slightly. Not from anger just ache.

"She will never love you back," he said.

"I know but she’s figuring things out," Rafael said. "And whatever she chooses... I’ll stand by it."

The implication was clear: Even if she doesn’t choose me.

That silence again, heavy as thunderclouds.

"I messed up," Ethan said. "I know that."

Rafael looked him dead in the eyes. "Yeah. You did."

"But I’m still their father and she is still my wife."

"And no one’s trying to take that from you, for the wife part I’m not too sure"

Ethan blinked as the words caught him off guard. "You’re not gonna fight me?"

Rafael tilted his head. "This isn’t about me proving who’s better for her. I’m not in competition with you, Ethan. I’m just... here. Showing up. Being steady. Loving her the way she should’ve been loved all along."

The truth cut sharp. But it wasn’t meant to wound—it was meant to wake.

Ethan exhaled slowly. His shoulders dropped. "I hate that you are a good guy, Rafael."

"Yeah I am and I’m glad you messed up, giving me the chance to meet an incredible woman," Rafael said. "Plus I don’t trust you."

Fair. Honest. Final.

Then, as if the universe had grown tired of their stand-off, a breeze passed through. The street noise picked up. Life moved on around them.

"I won’t stop fighting for her," Ethan said, voice cracking just a little.

"Fair," Rafael replied. "I know you would show up for your kids and you will be a damn good father, Ethan. Maybe that’s the piece you get to hold onto."

And with that, Rafael stepped back. Coffee in hand. Head high. Not triumphant, just... solid.

Ethan watched him go, a man standing in the shadow of his own mistakes. Because sometimes, the biggest punishment isn’t losing someone—it’s watching someone else love them right.

__

She didn’t mean to see them.

She was just passing the window, book in hand, half-listening to Vera ramble about gym memberships and murder weapons when her eyes caught something that made her freeze.

Two men. One heart. And a battlefield made of silence.

Rafael and Ethan stood face-to-face on the sidewalk across the street, the world rushing past them like a blur. Mara couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she didn’t need to. She knew that body language like the back of her own shaking hands.

Rafael was steady as stone, but with those eyes that held too much softness for his own good.

Ethan wrecked in a way only the guilty could be. Like a man who couldn’t outrun what he lost.

Mara backed away from the window slowly, her chest tightening, her vision blurring at the edges. She clutched the book to her chest like it might stop her heart from falling apart.

"What’s wrong?" Vera asked, instantly alert.

"They saw each other," Stef whispered, voice barely holding together.

Vera stood beside her, peering out. "Shit."

Yeah. Shit.

She sat down hard on the edge of the couch, fingers trembling.

"It’s not fair," she whispered.

"What isn’t?" Vera asked.

"That I still feel everything while he doesn’t remember." Mara bit her lip, trying not to break. "I hate him for what he did, but I loved him for so long. And Rafael? He came in and held the shattered pieces without trying to glue them back the wrong way. But I still ache for something I wish hadn’t been destroyed."

Vera didn’t say anything. Just sat with her, like a shield made of silence.

"I don’t know how to be okay," Mara said. "Ethan... he was my person. And when he broke us, he didn’t just break my heart—he broke my belief in forever."

She paused. "But Rafael makes me feel... safe. Seen."

Vera gave a small nod. "Then maybe it’s not about choosing who makes your heart race, Stef. Maybe it’s about choosing who keeps it beating."

A tear slipped down Mara’s cheek. "Why does love feel like grief?"

"Because you’re mourning the future you thought you had with my uncle," Vera said gently. "And maybe... maybe making peace with that is how you step into a new one."

Outside, Rafael walked away without looking back.

Ethan stood there for a long time, just watching.

And inside, Mara closed her eyes, holding every memory, every crack, every moment that had shaped her. She didn’t have the answers yet. She wasn’t ready to choose, to leap, to forgive.

But she was here.

Still breathing. Still feeling.

Still learning that even broken hearts can bloom again.

And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do... is keep going.

"You should leave now, Vera," Mara said softly, her voice warm, but edged in that quiet steel that said: I need space. "It was nice seeing you."

Vera blinked, lips parting as if she might protest, but instead, she nodded. She understood. There was a kind of ache Mara wore now, like a second skin—one that needed solitude, not comfort.

Still, before she turned to go, Vera stepped closer.

"Mrs. Bella would like it if you visited," she said, her smile slipping into something more hopeful. "And my great-grandfather too. They like you even more now that I told them how much of an angel you were to me."

Mara’s mouth curved, just slightly. "An angel, huh?"

Vera laughed, brushing her curls behind her ear. "Don’t act like you’re surprised. You saved me, Mara. In more ways than one."

There was a pause—just a breath between them.

"Oh! And... I got into art school." Vera’s eyes lit up like the sun breaking through gray skies. "Mum insisted on doing a whole gallery exhibit for my first art entries. She believes in it that much."

"Of course she does." Mara’s eyes warmed, her smile blooming a little more now. "They must be amazing. I’ll definitely come to see it."

"And... take care of my little cousins in there," Vera said, eyes briefly darting to Mara’s barely-there baby bump, then back up with a wink.

Mara chuckled, hand resting on her belly, protective and instinctive. "I will."

Vera took a step back but stopped herself. "My uncle’s changed, you know," she said quietly. "I’ve seen it. Slowly... but it’s there."

Mara didn’t answer. She just smiled again—one of those soft, unreadable ones. The kind people give when they’re still figuring out what to feel.

Then, like a gust of spring wind, Vera turned and ran off, her laughter trailing behind her like watercolor in rain.

And Mara was left alone.

Alone, but not lonely.

She wandered through the park paths, the gravel crunching under her shoes. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the silence didn’t press against her chest like a weight.

Instead, it filled her like breath.

She tilted her face toward the sky, eyes fluttering closed.

Maybe everything wasn’t perfect. Maybe healing still had miles to go. But there was life in her again. New life. Old ties. Second chances. Soft goodbyes. And beneath it all hope, curling around her ribs like something sacred.