The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 127: Painted in Forgiveness

Mara stared at him for a beat. Then... she nodded.

She didn’t feel bad. Not even a little. Jason had taken too much from her—years of confusion, stolen truths, and intentional lies. And Steve? Steve had just given her something no one ever had before: justice wrapped in loyalty. She felt it in her chest like warmth spreading.

"Good," she said simply.

Stanley smirked, eyes glinting. "Nice job, brother."

"Yeah," Stanford muttered. "I wish I could take his eyes too."

The brief exchange pulled a smile from Mara despite herself. Stanley and Stanford’s phones buzzed almost at the same time—corporate life never slowed down. They both looked apologetic but firm.

"I need to head back," Stanley said. "Board meeting."

"You’ll be okay?" Stanford added, more brother than banker now.

Mara nodded. "I’ll be fine. Thank you... all of you."

They left with a promise to see her later, and Steve offered her his arm.

"I’m heading to the law firm," he said.

"I’ll come with you," she offered quickly.

But Steve shook his head. "You promised Vera you’d go to her art exhibition today. Remember?"

Her shoulders dropped. "Right..."

"It’ll be good for you," he said, already steering her toward the exit. "A little color. A little beauty. Maybe something that isn’t soaked in drama for once."

She hesitated. "Will you come after?"

"If I’m done in time," he promised.

And so they pulled up in front of the art gallery twenty minutes later. It was tucked between cafés and boutiques, the windows filled with splashes of bold color and expressive shapes.

Steve leaned across the car, brushing a curl away from her cheek. "You’re strong, Mara. You’ve made it through worse. This? This is just a new beginning."

She nodded, holding onto that thought like a lifeline.

With one last look, Steve pulled away, leaving Mara standing at the edge of something she didn’t quite expect: an afternoon of color, expression, and maybe... something that would remind her she was still allowed to feel alive.

The gallery was a dream made of color.

Soft music played in the background, instrumental, warm, like it wrapped guests in a gentle embrace. Abstract pieces and delicate portraits lined the white walls, each one a slice of Vera’s heart spilled out onto canvas. The space was alive with quiet chatter, the clinking of wine glasses, and the smell of lilies placed in elegant vases.

Mara walked in slowly, her hand instinctively brushing over her belly, comforted by the twin heartbeats tucked safely within. The lavender dress swayed around her ankles as she moved, elegant and free, for once not trying to hide.

"Stef!" a familiar voice called with joy.

She turned to see Vera, her cousin and the artist of the day, rushing over in a swirl of navy-blue silk and paint-stained fingers. She was glowing not in the way Mara was with pregnancy, but in that electric, I-just-chased-my-dream kind of way.

"You came!" Vera threw her arms around her gently, careful of the bump. "I didn’t think you’d make it!"

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world," Mara smiled, pulling back to admire her. "You look incredible, and this place? It’s magic." freёwebnoѵel.com

Before Vera could say more, Valerie joined them with a flute of champagne in hand and her signature graceful poise. "Stef, darling. Look at you. Absolutely radiant."

"Hi, Valerie," Mara greeted warmly. Despite everything that had happened in her life, Valerie had always treated her like her own.

And then came Bella. Not by law for much longer, but family all the same. Bella looked every inch the sophisticated matriarch in her emerald shawl and soft curls.

She cupped Mara’s face gently, emotion welling in her eyes. "You’re blooming, sweetheart. Truly."

"Thank you," Mara whispered.

And for a little while, they laughed. They talked. They walked through the gallery together, pausing to admire Vera’s work, bold, vulnerable, raw. There was a sense of belonging in that room, the kind Mara hadn’t felt in a long time.

But then—

The energy shifted.

A hush rippled through the room like wind through tall grass. Heads subtly turned. Conversations paused. The door had opened, and in stepped a man who seemed to bring gravity with him.

Ethan.

He wore a dark navy suit, sharp enough to cut tension, paired with a crisp white shirt and no tie, just the first button undone, revealing the faintest glimpse of the man beneath the armor. His hair was tousled just enough to look effortless, his expression unreadable.

But his eyes, God, those eyes, searched the room with purpose.

Mara froze, the glass of water in her hand trembling slightly. She felt Valerie’s hand tighten gently on her shoulder, felt Bella glance toward her, and heard Vera exhale with a quiet, "Wow."

Because everyone saw him.

Everyone felt him.

But Ethan only saw one person.

Mara.

His gaze landed on her like it always had, intense, unblinking, full of things he never said when he should have. She felt her breath catch, the months between them folding into a single moment that hit her like a wave to the chest.

He didn’t smile.

She didn’t look away.

The room might as well have disappeared.

And still, her heart, traitorous and trembling, whispered the thing she didn’t want to admit out loud. He’s here. He came for me.

He didn’t speak right away.

Ethan stood across from her like a storm held together by sheer willpower. His hands were in his pockets, his jaw was set, but his eyes... his eyes were soft. The kind of soft that only comes from breaking, then choosing to rebuild.

Mara watched him silently, the hum of the gallery fading around them like static peeling away. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t tell if it was her heart pounding... or the babies reacting to his presence, those fantasy dreams of hers, and seeing Ethan made her defense walls crack.

"Hi," he finally said.

Her voice was quieter. "Hey."

"I didn’t know if I should be here," Ethan admitted. "Didn’t know if I even had the right to. But I had to see you, Mara."

She looked at him, truly looked at the tiredness under his eyes, the way his shoulders carried a weight she recognized but had never seen on him before. "Why now?"

He stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Never assuming. Never pushing.

"God, you look incredible," he said. "And you are glowing like never before, I have a feeling they are boys."

Mara’s throat tightened. Her hand instinctively moved to her belly, protective. "Boys,"

"Yes," Ethan said, his voice cracking. "I heard, baby boys make their mom beautiful during pregnancy..." He exhaled, stepping close enough that she could smell his cologne, clean, familiar, warm. "Every day, I’ve thought about you. About us. About all the ways I failed you. And not just with the truth, but with silence. With cowardice."

He looked down, took a shaky breath. "I thought letting you go would give you peace. But I only made it harder."

Mara blinked back the sting behind her eyes. "What makes you think so, Ethan?" He looked up, and this time there was no mask. No charm. Just love, raw and steady.

"Your eyes," he said. "Your body. I want you."

Mara’s heart skipped, the way he said I want you, she hated her body for melting right into his words, she bit her lips.

"I know I don’t deserve that yet," he continued. "But I want to earn it. If you let me. I’ll show up to every appointment, every craving, every late-night panic. I’ll talk to the babies every day, even if you never let me hold your hand again."

His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I just want to be yours again. And if I can’t... then I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure our children know how much their mother was worth."

A pause.

Heavy. Hopeful.

He slowly reached into his coat and pulled something out—a tiny, hand-knit pair of yellow booties.

"I made these," he said sheepishly. "They’re not great. I followed some YouTube tutorial, and I stabbed myself with the needle twice, but... I wanted to bring something. Something from me."

Mara stared at the booties. They were lopsided, and one was slightly smaller than the other, but they were real. Tangible. Honest.

She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled from her lips, half amused, half in awe. "You knit?"

"I tried," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mostly, I swore a lot and questioned my life choices."

And that’s when it happened, her walls cracked. Just slightly.

Because this wasn’t the man who broke her. This was the man who was trying to build something better, and what? They had three months until their divorce. What could change?

She took a slow breath and whispered, "They’re beautiful."

Ethan smiled tentatively, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to. And just then, one of the babies gave a gentle kick. Mara looked down, startled.

Ethan’s eyes lit up, his hand halfway raised. "Can I...?"

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she took his hand and guided it to the place just beneath her belly button.

There.

Another soft kick.

Ethan’s eyes flooded with tears, he didn’t try to hide. He looked at her like she was holding the whole world.

"It’s magical," he whispered.

"Yeah, this time the kick is real," she said softly. Ethan smiles.

"Wait, what!" a sharp voice said, making both Ethan and Mara jot back to their present environment.