The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 112: What can change

Mara stepped through the doorway, the scent of home lavender and lemon polish, old books, and something baking wrapping around her like a well-worn shawl. Her brothers followed behind her, trailing laughter and half-finished arguments, jackets slung over shoulders, their presence filling the house like warm light after a long night.

She sank into the couch, her shoulders finally unclenching. The six months... they were coming. So close now she could almost taste the freedom in the air.

"You don’t have to worry about me," Mara said quietly, looking up at her brothers. "The six months will be over soon. It’s almost done."

Stanley flopped into the armchair across from her, a grin tugging at his lips. "Very soon," he teased, "you’ll get rid of Ethan, and then? Finally, live your life again with your baby and Rafael." He wiggled his brows playfully.

Mara rolled her eyes, but her smile faltered into something wistful. "Don’t say that," she said. "I’ve grown fond of Rafael... more than I expected to. But I’ll never love again. That part of me," she paused, pressing a hand to her chest "—it’s not just broken. It’s gone."

Stanford frowned. Steve leaned forward, elbows on knees.

"I’m dedicating my life to my babies," Mara continued, steady now. "My career. The foundation. That’s enough for me."

"Just give it time," Steve said gently, not trying to convince her, just placing the words softly like stones in a river. "He doesn’t expect anything from you, Mara. But you don’t have to lock the door forever."

Mara didn’t reply, only looked down at her hands. Silence followed for a beat until she lifted her head to Stefan. "Did you speak to Eva? After she left the other day?"

Stefan shook his head, jaw tightening. "No. She’s leaving the hospital."

That hit the room like a cold gust. Mara’s face fell, but she didn’t push.

Stefan continued, his voice low. "We can’t be together. We never could. We’d be toxic. And I’ve made peace with that. I made the right decision, back then and now."

Stanley snorted. "Lucky you," he muttered. "At least you can get rid of her."

The siblings turned toward him like a pack of wolves catching a scent.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Steve narrowed his eyes.

Stanley hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Rhina... she’s pregnant."

Mara’s mouth dropped open. "Wait, what?! You’re gonna be a dad?"

Stanley made a face. "She wants to keep it."

Mara reached over and smacked his arm, not hard, but not soft either. "You are going to be a dad."

Steve crossed his arms. "Man up. You made the baby, now be there for the baby."

Stefan leaned in, always the quiet voice of logic. "If she’s that bad, why were you with her in the first place?"

Stanley groaned and let his head fall back. "I don’t know! She was fun... we weren’t serious... Now everything’s serious. I don’t even know if I like her like that, let alone wanna co-parent a whole baby with her."

"Well, tough," Steve said. "This is happening. You don’t have to marry her. But you will be a father."

"The first step," Stanford added, "is calling her. Tonight. Tell her you’re with her in this pregnancy. No running."

Mara softened, reaching for her brother’s hand. "You’ve always been the wild one, Stan. But maybe this is what slows you down. Grounds you. You might surprise yourself."

Stanley looked at them all, his annoying, loving, meddling siblings, and sighed like a man accepting a fate he’d long tried to outrun.

"I’ll call her," he muttered.

–

The phone buzzed against the kitchen counter, its glow the only light in the dim room. Rhina stood barefoot on the cool tile floor, one hand cradling her belly without even thinking about it. The other held a chipped mug of peppermint tea, steam curling like ghosts around her face.

She hadn’t been sleeping. Too many thoughts. Too many what-ifs. She hadn’t expected Stanley to call. Honestly, she’d half-hoped he wouldn’t—at least that way, she could pretend he didn’t care, and it wouldn’t hurt so much.

But his name lit up her screen, and for a second, she just stared at it.

Then she answered. "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end. A breath. And then his voice, hesitant but steady. "Hey... it’s me. I’m... I’m in. I mean if you’ll let me, I wanna be there. For you. For the baby."

Rhina closed her eyes, exhaling slowly like she’d been holding her breath for days. "You sure?" she asked softly.

"No," he admitted with a nervous laugh. "But I’m not running. I promise."

Her lips parted, maybe to say something more, but then a knock at the door. Sharp. Heavy. Male. She stiffened.

On the other end of the call, Stanley caught the shift in her breath. "Everything okay?"

Before she could respond, a man’s voice echoed faintly through the door.

"Rhina, it’s me open up!"

Stanley sat up straighter, suddenly alert. "Who the hell is that?"

Rhina’s throat tightened. "I—I have to go," she said quickly, her voice clipped. And before he could ask again, the line went dead.

Stanley sat on the edge of the couch, phone still in hand, brow furrowed deep. He kept replaying the voice in his head. He didn’t recognize it, but something about it was too familiar. Too comfortable.

Mara breezed in from the kitchen with a warm smile and a baby blanket tossed over her arm. "You called Rhina?" she asked brightly. "I’m so happy for you, Stanley."

He looked up, distracted. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she nodded, eyes soft. "My babies are going to have a cousin to grow up with. Can you believe it?" She sat beside him, dreamy. "Built-in playdates. Birthday chaos. Sibling-style alliances. It’s kind of beautiful."

Stanley forced a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Mara leaned her head on his shoulder. "You’re gonna be a great dad."

He didn’t answer.

Because all he could think about was that voice behind Rhina’s door.

And whether the baby she was carrying...

was really his.

–

Ethan had one foot out the courthouse doors, his coat slung over one arm and his mind already elsewhere, when Steph’s voice cut through the corridor like a sudden gust of wind.

"Wait, Ethan don’t go. You’ll want to see this."

He turned, eyebrows pinched, and Steph nodded toward a side hallway. "Lucy’s father. His sentencing. It’s happening now."

Ethan hesitated. Then followed.

They slipped into the courtroom like ghosts, sliding into the back row, unnoticed. The lights were too bright, the air too stale, the silence heavy until it was broken by the clanging of handcuffs and a man’s voice, loud and laced with venom.

"Rot in hell, Lucy!" her father spat, as guards gripped his arms and dragged him down the aisle.

He twisted in their hold, face red with fury. "You ungrateful little parasite! I raised you better than this!"

Lucy, seated primly at the defense table, didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Her expression was carved from marble. Cold. Immaculate.

The judge’s gavel cracked once. "Order in the court."

The courtroom settled.

Then Lucy stood, heels clicking against polished wood, her posture regal even as the stink of disgrace clung to her like cheap perfume.

"I’ll represent myself, Your Honor," she said calmly. "I trust no one else can speak to my truth better than I can."

The judge raised an eyebrow but allowed it with a nod.

She launched into a defense that was equal parts calculated and performative—tears pricking at just the right times, her voice catching with rehearsed sincerity.

"For the actions taken while I worked at the firm," she said, "I was following direct orders. I was a loyal employee, loyal to a fault. Can I truly be blamed for doing what I was told? For protecting the company I believed in?"

She shifted her tone then, softer, sweeter. "And yes, I admit to other errors in judgment and minor infractions. Nothing malicious. Nothing cruel. And if I may..." she paused dramatically, placing a hand over her abdomen, "I’m currently four weeks pregnant."

That silenced the room.

Ethan sat forward in his seat, jaw tightening. "What condition?" he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Lucy dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. "This child... is innocent. And I wish to raise them in a world where justice means compassion."

The judge sighed, clearly torn. "Given the new information and the nature of your lesser charges, I’m sentencing you to pay a fine and complete two hundred hours of community service."

The gavel struck again. Case closed.

Ethan stood so fast his chair scraped the floor. He stormed out, fists clenched, rage threatening to boil over.

But she followed.

Her limp slowed her pace, but her voice was as sharp as a blade. "Ethan," she called sweetly. "Aren’t you going to ask... who the father is?"

He stopped. Turned. His eyes burned like coals.

"No."

Then he walked.

Lucy stood there, alone in the courthouse hallway, but unbothered. A dark smile curved across her lips.

"Still a coward," she murmured. "See you soon, Ethan."

She turned, limping away, but her eyes were full of fire.

Inside her head, a single vow echoed like a war drum:

I’ll make Mara’s life a living hell.