All Chapters of Billionaire Producer's Secret Wife: Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

Serena reads it three times before the words stop rearranging themselves into something less cruel. They don’t. The headline sits at the top of her screen like a verdict already passed, loud in a way the apartment is not. Morning has come to Prague in a pale, indifferent wash—light filtering through gauze curtains, turning everything the color of something already remembered. The city hums below her window, distant and uninterested. It has seen worse things than this. It will see worse things again. Her name is there. Not just her name but also her mother’s, resurrected with a scalpel. A ghost dressed in accusation. Flesh cut open like an animal. Serena Rivera, now Vale. She stares at that part longest. It wasn't true. She wished it were, almost. Wished Lucian hadn't refused to give her his name. It was so sacred for him, and it made her feel maybe she would be too. Someone worth protecting li

The café is not subtle. Serena clocks that immediately—the glass frontage, the clean sightlines, the tables arranged just far enough apart to feel private but not nearly far enough to be private. It’s the kind of place that pretends discretion while quietly accommodating spectacle. A place that understands exactly what it is. Gia chose it well. Or maybe the city did. Prague has a way of offering stages without announcing them. Serena pauses just outside, her reflection caught briefly in the window—dark glasses, hair loose but intentional, coat draped just so. Not overdressed. Not careless. Considered. Behind the reflection, she sees him. Aiden Wolfe hasn’t changed in the ways that matter. He’s at a corner table, back to the wall—of course—posture relaxed in a way that isn’t relaxed at all. There’s a stillness to him that reads like restraint rather than calm, like

The invitation arrived folded into a cream-colored envelope so expensive it felt vaguely offensive. Serena turned it over once in her hands before opening it. No note. No greeting. Just an address in Prague's Old Town and a time written in elegant black ink. Eight o'clock. Tomorrow. That was all. She stared at it for a long moment. Then she laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was absurd. The sound made Gia glance up from where she sat surrounded by three phones, a laptop, and what appeared to be enough caffeine to medically concern a physician. "What?" Serena slid the card across the table. Gia read it. "Oh."

For a man who answered most questions with surgical efficiency, the silence was startling. Serena watched him. Not because she expected a confession. Because she expected an evasion. Lucian was very good at evasions. He disguised them as truths. Small technical truths that allowed him to avoid larger ones. It was one of his more irritating qualities. The river moved below them in dark silence. The city glowed. The party continued. And Lucian Vale stared somewhere over her shoulder as though the answer might be hidden in the skyline. Interesting. Very interesting. Because she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him caught off guard. Eventually, he said, "That's not a question with a simple answer

Seraphina took exactly three steps before Serena spoke. "Did you leak it?" The words cut cleanly through the space between them. Not loud. They didn't need to be. Seraphina stopped. Around them, the party continued uninterrupted. A producer laughed too hard. Someone ordered another drink. A famous actor nodded through a conversation he clearly wanted to escape. The world kept moving. But for a brief moment, Seraphina stood perfectly still. Her back remained toward Serena. Then she slowly turned. The movement was unhurried and controlled. The sort of composure that made people nervous because it suggested very little happened without intention. "What?" The question was calm. Serena didn't back down. "Th