The Billionaire's Unwanted wife

Chapter 4

Emily’s POV

I got home that night and dropped my handbag on the floor.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the carpet.

“He loves me,” I whispered, almost laughing at how ridiculous it sounded.

I spent years begging that man for the smallest amount of affection and waiting for him to look at me the way husbands looked at their wives.

And now, when I had finally decided to leave, he suddenly loved me?

I shook my head. “No. I don’t believe it.”

My phone buzzed beside me.

I picked it up and saw that Lucas had called.

I quickly typed a message.

Emily: Everything is alright.

Lucas: Hope you’re feeling better and ready for tomorrow.

His reply came almost immediately.

Lucas: Don't let him ruin your night.

I smiled despite myself.

Lucas : Just be careful around him. Men like him can be very tricky.

Emily : Don’t worry. I’m not falling for his tricks.

A small laugh escaped me.

Lucas was different. He made me laugh without trying too hard. He asked about my shop and actually listened when I talked about it.

It felt strange. I was used to talking while Christian stared at his phone or walked away.

I placed my phone on the bedside table and pulled the blanket over myself.

Tomorrow was my first day as a business owner.

For once, I had something that had nothing to do with being Mrs. Russo.

The next morning, I stood outside my shop with the keys clutched tightly in my hand.

I looked up at the sign.EMILY BLOOMS.

My lips curved into a smile as I had imagined this moment so many times.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside.The scent of fresh flowers immediately filled the room.

Roses sat in glass vases near the entrance. Lilies were arranged along the counter, while smaller bouquets filled the shelves.

It wasn’t perfect. There were still boxes in the corner and a few things that needed fixing. But it was mine.

I ran my fingers over the wooden counter.

“I actually did it,” I whispered.

For the first hour, everything went smoothly.

Then I heard shouting outside.

I frowned and stepped toward the entrance.

My stomach dropped.

There were cameras everywhere.

“Mrs. Russo!”

“Emily, over here!”

“Are you and Christian Russo still together?”

“Why did you open a flower shop?”

“Is this just a hobby?”

“Mrs. Russo, look this way!”

The flashes became faster.

I raised my hand to cover my face.

“Please, stop!”, I lamented.

Someone pushed forward with a camera.

“Just one picture!”

“I said stop!”, My breathing became uneven.

Suddenly, a tall figure stepped between me and the reporters.

His shoulder brushed mine as he moved in front of me.

“Back away.” The voice was low and cold.

Christian.

He stood with his back toward me, completely blocking the cameras.

One reporter lifted his microphone.

“Mr. Russo, we’re only trying to”

“I don’t care what you’re trying to do.” His voice hardened.

“You’re standing on private property and harassing my wife.”

My heart skipped, “my wife.”

It sounded different coming from him now.

“Leave.”

Nobody moved.He reached for his phone.

“If I see one more camera pointed at her, I’ll have every one of your companies contacted by my lawyers.”

That finally did it. The reporters began stepping away, still shouting questions as they left.

I remained frozen.

Christian turned around and our eyes met.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

My voice came out colder than I intended.

“I heard about your opening.”

“You heard?”

He nodded.

“You barely know anything about me.”

His eyes dropped for a moment.

“I should have known,” he said quietly.

“But you didn’t.” I said, crossing my arms.

“No and that’s my fault.”He swallowed.

I looked away.

“You’re right.”

“I know.”

I let out a bitter laugh.

“Why are you agreeing with everything I say?”

“Because you’re right.”

That shut me up.

Christian rubbed the back of his neck.

“I want to ask you for something.”

“What?”

“Thirty days.”

I stared at him.

“Thirty days of what?” I asked genuinely confused.

“Come home.”

“You’re joking.”,My eyebrows shot up.

“No.”He said calmly.

“Christian, I just opened my own business. I’m divorcing you. Why would I move back into that house?”

“Because I want a chance to fix what I broke.”

I looked at him carefully.

“You had five years to fix it.”

“I can’t change what I did.” His voice dropped.

“Then what exactly do you want?”

“Thirty days.”

He took a breath.

“Live in the house. Keep running your shop and seeing your friends. Do whatever you want.”

“And you?”I said ,my frown deepening.

“I’ll try to be the husband I should have been.”

I almost laughed.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“No.” His answer was immediate.

“I don’t expect you to believe me.”

He looked straight into my eyes.

“That’s why I’m asking you to watch me instead.”

I went quiet.

“If, after thirty days, you still want the divorce, I’ll sign the papers.”

“And you won’t fight me?”

“No.”

“You won’t use your grandfather’s will against me?”

“No.”

“You won’t stop me from leaving?”

He shook his head.

“No.”

I studied his face.

“Why thirty days?”I asked.

“Because asking you for forever would be selfish.”

He paused.

“I’m only asking you for a month.”

I looked down at my hands.

I could survive thirty days and if nothing changed, I would leave.

“Fine.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“Fine?”He said, looking shocked.

“Yeah”,I replied.

“He nodded slowly.

“Thank you.”

I picked up my handbag.

“But don’t mistake this for forgiveness.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t expect me to fall back in love with you.”

His jaw tightened.

“I won’t ask you to.”

I walked back into my shop without looking behind me.

But I could feel his eyes following me.

Few hours later

I was sitting on the couch in the living room when my mum walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a small towel.

“Hey, Emily,” she said, looking at me. “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

I looked up from my phone.

“I need to tell you something.”

She immediately put the towel down.

“Okay. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Then why do you look like that?” she asked, sitting beside me. “Is it Christian?”

I sighed and nodded.

“Yeah.”

Mum looked at me for a moment.

“What did he do?”

“He asked me to give him thirty days.”

She frowned.

“Thirty days for what?”

“To prove he can change.”

Mum stared at me.

“And you agreed?”

“Yes.”

“Emily, seriously?”

“I know how it sounds.”

“No, you don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “That man had five years.”

“I know, Mum.”

“He had five years to treat you like his wife.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you giving him another chance?”

I looked down at my hands.

“I’m not giving him another chance yet. I’m giving him thirty days.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the difference?”

“I get to watch him. That’s all.”

Mum was quiet.

“I want to know if he actually means what he said yesterday and if he doesn't change” I continued. “

“You’ll leave?”

“I’ll leave.”

She studied my face before reaching for my hand.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

She squeezed my hand.

“I just don’t want you going back there and forgetting everything that happened.”

“I won’t.”

“And don’t let him make you feel guilty for leaving.”

“I won’t.”

She nodded.

“Good.”

I leaned against her shoulder for a moment.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I know you will.”

I smiled slightly.

“There’s someone else I need to tell.”

“Luca?”

I looked at her.

“How did you know?”

“Because you’ve been staring at your phone for the past five minutes.”

I laughed quietly.

“I’m calling him.”

“Go ahead.”

I picked up my phone and dialed Luca.

He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Emily.”

“Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

I took a breath.

“I’m going back to Christian.”

The line went quiet.

“Emily”

“For just a month ” I added quickly.

He sighed.

“Do you trust him?”

“No.”

“Then why are you going back?”

“Because I want to see if he’s actually changed.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“But it’s your decision.”

“Thank you.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“If he hurts you again, don’t stay because you promised him a month.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

His voice softened.

“And Emily?”

“Yeah?”

“You can still call me.”

A small smile crossed my face.

“I know.”

“I mean it.”

“I know, Luca.”

After we ended the call, I packed a small bag upstairs.

When I came back down, Mum was waiting for me.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah.”

She pulled me into a hug.

“Call me when you get there.”

“I will.”

“And Emily?”

I looked at her.

“Don’t forget that you have a home here.”

I smiled.

“I won’t.”

I picked up my bag and walked outside.

A black Rolls Royce Cullinan car was already waiting by the curb.Christian’s driver stepped out when he saw me.

“Mrs. Russo.”

I nodded.

“Christian sent you?”

“Yes, ma’am. He asked me to bring you back.”

I glanced toward the house.

Mum was still standing in the doorway.

She gave me one last nod.

I turned back to the driver.

“Okay.”

I got into the car and we soon arrived at the Russo's mansion.

Christian's POV

After Emily came back ,she went upstairs without a word .I stayed downstairs for a while, wondering what I was supposed to do next.

I asked for thirty days and I actually had to make them count.

I walked into the kitchen and found the chef preparing dinner.

“Can you make something nice for Emily?” I asked.

He looked at me. “Anything specific, sir?”

I paused.I had no idea of what she liked.

“No. Just something she’ll like.”

He nodded and went back to work.

I stood there for another few seconds before leaving.

Two hours later, I heard footsteps coming downstairs.

I looked up from my phone and saw her walking into the kitchen.

She stopped when she saw me.

“What are you doing?”

“Hey,” I said.

She glanced at the chef, then back at me.

“Why are you in the kitchen?”

“I asked him to make dinner.”

“For me?”

I nodded.

She looked suspicious.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re looking at me like I’m up to something.”

“Because you usually are.”

I laughed.

“I’m trying to behave.”

She rolled her eyes.

“We’ll see.”

The chef finished and left us alone.

I followed Emily into the dining room.

She stopped when she saw the table.

Candles were lit, flowers were in the middle, and dinner was already served.

She looked at me.

“You did all this?”

“I asked the chef to.”

“Why?”

I pulled out her chair.

“Because I thought we could have dinner together.”

She hesitated before sitting and I took the seat opposite her. For a few minutes, neither of us said anything.

I barely spoke to my own wife during dinner. Now I was sitting across from her trying to figure out what to say.

She took another bite.

“This is actually good.”

“I’ll tell the chef.”

“Don’t.”

I smiled.

“Why?”

“He’ll become too proud.”

I laughed.

It was such a small conversation, but I found myself enjoying it.

I looked at her.

She caught me staring.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Then stop staring.”

I looked down at my plate.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head, but I noticed the small smile on her face. For once, dinner didn’t feel like something I needed to rush through.

When we finished, Emily stood up.

“Thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

She picked up her glass.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Emily.”

She started walking away.

“Emily?”

She turned.

“Yeah?”

I almost told her how good it felt having her back.

Instead, I just smiled.

“Nothing. Goodnight.”

She gave me a confused look before heading upstairs.

I watched her disappear.

And thus, our thirty days began.