I Refuse To Be Your Second Wife Billionaire Albert!

Chapter One Aurora's POV The Billionaire Who Destroyed My Heart is Back The email arrived at exactly nine seventeen in the morning. From that instant, my life began to crumble. I stared at the glowing screen in my sleek downtown office, the cursor blinking innocently over the subject line. VIP Charity Gala Inquiry. My assistant Mia had flagged it with three exclamation marks and a note about the proposed budget. I opened the attachment, my fingers hovering for a moment before I clicked. The numbers made my breath catch. The fee offered for planning and executing a single evening event exceeded what Lumina Events had earned in the previous quarter combined. Luxury venue already secured. Full creative control. International press coverage guaranteed. The only condition was immediate confirmation and absolute discretion until the night itself. I leaned back in my leather chair, rubbing my temples. At twenty-six, I had built Lumina Events into a name whispered among the elite with quiet respect. I was no longer the heartbroken girl who had fled the city years ago. Opportunities like this one did not appear often. They could launch my company onto the global stage and secure the independence I had fought so hard to achieve. Then I saw the venue: Kingsley Plaza Hotel, the crown jewel of the city's most powerful real estate family. I had avoided anything connected to that name for seven years. I closed my eyes briefly, then forced them open. Business was business. I just had to handle this for my company. "Mia," I called out. "Schedule a call with the client representative. I need more details before committing." Two hours later, the truth emerged during a crisp professional conversation with a senior assistant from the Kingsley organization. The gala was the annual Kingsley Charity Event. The primary sponsor who had personally requested Lumina Events was Albert Kingsley himself. My pen stopped moving. "Could you repeat that name?" It came out steadier than I felt, though my knuckles had gone white around the receiver. The assistant repeated it without hesitation, and the words landed like a blow. The phone slipped an inch in my grip before I caught it, set it down with deliberate care, and pressed my palm flat against the desk until the shaking stopped. I ended the call with practiced politeness, then sat motionless as memories stirred to life. Late nights wrapped in his arms, promises that had felt unbreakable, the shattering silence that followed. I did not let myself finish those thoughts. How could one name still unravel me so completely after all this time? I had rebuilt everything. This contract could not be allowed to threaten that. My chest tightened with an ache I refused to name. I rose and walked to the large window overlooking the bustling city streets below. Rain streaked the glass, mirroring the turmoil inside me. Walking away would protect my peace, but rejecting it might cost Lumina Events everything it needed to reach the next level. International clients. Prestigious awards. True freedom from my past. I could not let fear win now. By evening, after weighing every angle, I made my decision. Professional growth demanded I accept. I sent the confirmation email and began outlining initial concepts, pushing thoughts of the past to the edges of my mind. The night of the gala arrived wrapped in golden anticipation and quiet dread. I moved through the grand ballroom of Kingsley Plaza like a woman in command of her domain. The space gleamed under elaborate crystal chandeliers that cast dancing patterns of light across polished marble floors. Tables adorned with black silk and arrangements of pristine white roses and midnight orchids created refined opulence. My team worked with efficient grace under my watchful eye. "Miss Bennett, everything is proceeding exactly as planned," Mia reported, approaching with a tablet in hand. "The guest list is extraordinary. This could be our breakthrough moment." I offered a calm smile, smoothing a hand down the sleek black gown that hugged my figure. "Ensure the string quartet begins on time. And confirm the silent auction displays receive optimal lighting." The sponsor had not yet arrived. I rechecked the auction lighting, straightened a centerpiece that needed no adjustment, and adjusted a place card twice, anything to keep my hands moving and my mind ahead of the doors. As the clock approached the start time, the grand double doors swung open. Security positioned themselves discreetly. Cameras flashed. I felt it before I understood it, that particular hush that only followed one kind of man into a room. Conversation thinned. Recognition hit before thought could catch up, something in my chest dropping the way it used to when I heard his key in the door. Why now? After seven years of building walls, why did his arrival still hit like this? Only then did I let myself look. Black tuxedo against a room full of white roses. That was all I allowed myself before my gaze found his face. Our eyes met. The ballroom dropped away. Albert was still mid-handshake with the board chairman when his head turned, as though my presence had reached him first. He let go of the man's hand too early and started toward me. My spine straightened, shoulders back, chin level. My weight shifted back half an inch before I caught myself. I would not retreat. He stopped in front of me, close enough that his cologne wrapped around me. His eyes dropped to my bare left hand on the clipboard. "No ring," he said, the words rough and startled out of him. Then, quieter and half-formed, "I didn't... f**k, I wasn't supposed to..." He cut himself off, jaw tightening as the rest jammed in his throat. His hand twitched at his side, checking a finger bare for years now. I could see it in his face, something raw he wasn't expecting to feel. My gaze dropped to his hand, to the same absence there. Something twisted hard in my chest. The clipboard felt too heavy. I adjusted my grip once, then again, fingers refusing to settle. Why did he still have this effect? I had moved on. I had built a life without him. "Mr. Kingsley," I said, my voice almost steady. "Welcome to the gala. All preparations have been completed according to the brief." A photographer appeared. "Mr. Kingsley, if I could borrow you for one photo. The board would love a shot with the event planner for the press release." Albert did not look away from me. "Yeah. Fine." He stepped beside me, shoulder brushing mine. The flash went off. Under the noise, low enough for only me to hear, he said, "They've been watching us since I walked in. Might as well give them something..." He paused, breath catching. "I never put a ring on her. Not the way I almost... on you." The clipboard nearly slipped. I caught it, fingers white-knuckled, and the room tilted for several seconds. The lights blurred. Why say that now? After everything? My mind spun, replaying the words, the fracture in his voice. I had spent years convincing myself it was over, that he no longer mattered. Yet here he was, cracking open the past with a few broken sentences. When Mia appeared moments later with a question about the dessert table, I heard the words but could not process them immediately. I blinked slowly, the delay stretching. Then I repeated the same small adjustment to my gown strap I had already fixed earlier. "The... dessert table is fine," I managed at last. Mia tilted her head in concern before nodding and stepping away. I made it three steps before glancing over my shoulder. He was still watching me, jaw tight, the raw emotion still visible before he forced it down. I continued on autopilot, issuing brief instructions to my team. The string quartet played. Waiters circulated champagne. Guests offered compliments on the decor. I smiled and responded with practiced professionalism, but inside the storm raged. I lingered near the silent auction displays, pretending to inspect a valuable piece of art. His half-formed confession looped in my mind. The vulnerability he had never shown so openly before unsettled me deeply. How dare he speak those words here, in front of everyone? Yet part of me, a part I hated to acknowledge, felt the old pull returning. I checked my phone for the time, straightened an already perfect arrangement, and moved toward the dessert station, all while my pulse refused to calm. The evening stretched ahead with glittering lights, flowing conversations, and hidden currents pulling between us. Albert Kingsley had stepped back into my world, and neither of us could take back what had broken loose in those charged moments. The gala continued, but I knew the real night had only begun, its outcome threatening to reshape far more than my company's future.