The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 36

He'd already made plans with Winona yesterday: today, she'd meet a few investors, have some face-to-face conversations, then weigh her options before deciding who to partner with. After seeing Winona's designs and the proposal, every investor wanted to sit down with her personally.

The more investors, the better—at least, that was the hope.

"Nona, where are you? The investors are arriving any minute! Oh, and Yves Prescott from the Prescott Group caught wind of this somehow—he's coming, too! I know you find Yves a little eccentric, but the Prescott Group is one of the biggest names in the country. Just talk to him, okay? Don't—"

Winona's raspy voice cut Wesley off. "Wesley, thank you for arranging all this. I'm dealing with something personal right now, I can't make the meetings. Please apologize to everyone for me—let's reschedule."

"You—" Wesley started.

But Winona had already hung up.

Nona had never been one to flake. Not ever.

Especially not when it came to the retirement project she'd spent five, almost six years painstakingly designing.

There was no way she'd back out so easily. No way she'd let anyone down—unless something was seriously wrong.

Wesley's gut told him Winona was facing an emergency. He didn't call again, just sent a string of messages.

Nona, you have no idea how incredible your project is! You've improved on every flaw in senior care facilities worldwide. The investors are thrilled—how can you miss out on a chance like this?

You must be dealing with something even more urgent than the project, right?

Don't worry. I'll buy you some time with the investors. If you need anything, just tell me—I'll do whatever it takes to help. Remember, you're not alone.

Winona read Wesley's barrage of messages, guilt gnawing at her.

Wesley had worked so hard to gather all these investors, and now she'd let him down.

I'm sorry, Wesley.

But my daughter matters more than any project.

And now, all she saw was the picture of a cozy family—father, daughter, and a gentle woman—wrapped in warmth she could only watch from the outside.

Julian spotted Winona standing at the door, and his face twisted with an irritation—no, with an outright cold, relentless loathing he'd never shown before.

His voice was ice. "I don't have much patience, so do us both a favor and leave. Now. Unless you want to deal with the consequences."

He turned to Tiana. "Tiana, inside. Now."

Tiana glanced at Winona.

Gone was the fear and helplessness that had filled her voice when she'd called last night. In its place was a wall—distance and distrust, thicker now than it had been a month ago.

"If you want to come back, you'll have to take care of Miss Felly while she's sick. Make her nourishing soup, and take care of all of us, just like a housekeeper would. Then maybe I'll let you stay." Tiana's voice broke as she spoke.

"What did you say?" Winona's voice sounded hollow, a ghost of itself.