The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 99

Winona froze, her whole body going rigid in Yves Prescott's embrace. Even Yves seemed caught off guard, arms tightening protectively around her.

He could feel her fighting to keep her frustration and pain in check. Only when she'd smoothed every trace of emotion from her face did she turn back to look at Julian.

Her voice was cool and composed. "Mr. Nicholson… were you calling for me?"

Julian felt a jolt of irritation at the question.

Did she really need to ask?

She was his wife—Winona! Who else would he be calling?

When Julian didn't answer, Yves stepped in to break the tension. "Is there another Winona in the room? Of course Mr. Nicholson meant you."

Winona smiled, a clear, placid smile. "Forgive me. I thought Mr. Nicholson didn't even know my name."

Julian's lips pressed into a thin line.

Six years of marriage.

Until today, he'd never once spoken her name. In fact, their conversations had always been minimal, bordering on nonexistent.

Most days, it was her asking him questions: "What did you have for lunch? Did you like it? Are you comfortable in the new suit I bought? If anything bothers you, tell me, so I can do better next time."

All met with the same responses from him: "Mm." "No need." Or, more often, no answer at all.

Six years—and today was the first time he'd ever called her by name.

For a moment, embarrassment flickered across his face.

But Winona seemed perfectly at ease. She met his eyes, her gaze calm and even. "Mr. Nicholson, did you need something from me?" she asked quietly.

Julian's face remained inscrutable. What he wanted to say was: Haven't you always wanted to talk to me? I can give you more time today. But he kept his mouth shut.

Instead, his eyes—cold and sharp as a drawn blade—cut toward Yves Prescott. "Suit yourself," he said, his tone icy.

"Thank you," Winona replied politely, then turned and walked out of the ballroom with Yves at her side, never once looking back at Julian.

"Julian." A gentle voice called from behind him.

He turned to see Felicity, her smile bright, resilient, warm—full of grace and strength.

"If you have things to take care of, don't feel like you have to stay," she said quietly. "This is the Shepherd family's celebration, not the Nicholson family's. You're not obligated to be here."

Was she distancing herself from him? Asking him to leave?

Guilt pricked at him.

He'd been distracted the whole evening.

Before the party, he'd promised the old matriarch that, though the event was in her honor, it was also a gift for Felicity—a way to show all of Greenwood City that the Shepherd family had his full support.

Felicity was his woman.

But tonight, he'd failed her. He hadn't been there when Felicity was knocked to the ground in front of everyone by Mia.