Divorced and Pregnant My New Life with a Billionaire Drives My Ex Crazy novel Chapter 96

She couldn't even begin to imagine what Conrad had done over the years to keep everything looking so calm on the surface.

Wiona scribbled quickly in her notebook. “Did you ever try hypnosis on Ms. Sullivan? To help her forget everything?”

Conrad hadn’t expected her first question to be about Alice. He glanced up, studying Wiona with a look that lingered just a little too long.

“It actually worked for a while,” he said quietly. “But the deeper wounds, those always found their way back. After a few sessions, her trauma just kept resurfacing. It got worse, so we had to stop.”

Wiona could only sigh. She nodded to show she understood, then flipped her notebook to a page she had prepared ahead of time and handed it to Conrad.

“No matter what you think, Mr. Sullivan, there’s something you need to know,” she had written. “A year ago, I lost a bet to an enemy of my mentor’s. Since then, I’m not allowed to paint anymore. What happened at the nursing home was a fluke. If anyone finds out, it’ll ruin everything for my mentor’s entire circle. So I’m sorry, but even if you broke both my hands, I still couldn’t paint for your sister.”

Conrad’s frown deepened. Nothing about this was going the way he’d expected.

“What kind of bet was it? Was it even fair?” he pressed. “Your art is leagues ahead of anyone else’s. Are you sure there wasn’t a mistake?”

Wiona tilted her head, considering, then shook it. She wrote, “I wasn’t competing with my peers. The person I lost to was truly talented. That time, I really lost.”

Conrad shot to his feet, his frustration obvious.

“I’m not letting this go,” he said. “Ms. Morgan, you don’t want everyone finding out who W really is, do you? Think it over. I hope I don’t have to force your hand.”

He turned and walked out of the garden without looking back.

Wiona didn’t bother watching him leave. She just stared at the cold tea on the table and let out a small, self-mocking smile.

That night at Hawthorne Hall, Conrad was at the archery range, shooting arrow after arrow. Ten perfect shots in a row, tearing the center out of the target. He moved too quickly, and the wound on his back, barely healed, split open again, blood seeping through his shirt.

The medical team rushed over, disinfecting and bandaging him with practiced hands.

Jason, the doctor overseeing his recovery, tried to reason with him. “Mr. Sullivan, you can’t keep opening the wound like this. If it gets infected, it’ll never heal right. You’ll be stuck with it for life.”

Conrad’s expression stayed icy. He ignored Jason, pulled out his phone, and called Korey.

“Dig up everything about W’s mentor’s enemies. Find out who she lost to a year ago. And set up a meeting with her mentor. I want to see them.”

He hung up, practically crushing his phone in his grip. His mind kept circling back to earlier that day, to the way Wiona had just sat in the wicker chair, unmoving, as he left her villa.

He remembered that night in the car, too. She’d been shivering, face pale, lips split and bleeding, soaked to the skin. Without thinking, he’d taken off his jacket and draped it over her. She’d grabbed his hand like she never wanted to let go, and only released it when they arrived.

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