Divorced and Chased by My Alpha Billionaire Ex-Husband
Chapter 90: The Golden Child

Chapter 90: The Golden Child

Aurora’s heart clenched at the revelation, but she quickly composed herself, forcing a smile as her mind raced.

Lucas didn’t remember her.

The man she had once shared a life with now saw her as a stranger.

She swallowed her emotions, masking the pain beneath a polite façade.

"Oh, it’s fine," she said, her voice steady despite the swirling feelings within. "We only met once at Paramount Studio a few years ago. I don’t expect you to remember."

Lucas furrowed his brow, clearly trying to place her.

"Paramount Studio? I don’t recall ever going there." His tone was puzzled, but not suspicious.

Aurora nodded, holding her fake smile. "Yes, it’s where I used to work years ago. I was part of the cast. It was a brief meeting, nothing too memorable, really."

Lucas seemed to accept this explanation, his expression relaxing. "Ah, I see. Well, it must have been a brief encounter."

Aurora breathed a little easier, relieved that her impromptu story had worked. Yet, deep down, the weight of Lucas’s forgotten memories lingered.

How much had he really lost?

Lucas glanced toward the grand staircase and gestured toward it. "Shall we discuss the project in my study? It’s much more comfortable there."

Aurora nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. "Of course."

Gabriel, who had remained quiet, took hold of the wheelchair’s handles and began guiding Lucas toward the stairs.

Aurora followed behind, her mind now consumed with thoughts she couldn’t shake.

Did Lucas truly not recognize her?

Had his memory been completely erased by the accident?

As she climbed the stairs, her gaze drifted to Lucas in his wheelchair.

The man she had once known to be so strong, so confident, now looked so different.

And Gabriel—his new assistant—was unfamiliar to her.

What had happened to Amos, Lucas’s old assistant?

Aurora’s mind swirled with questions, but the soft creaking of the wheelchair brought her back to the present.

They had stopped before a large door. Lucas turned his head slightly, motioning for her to enter first.

"Please, after you," he said.

Aurora nodded and stepped inside, feeling a knot of nervousness tightening in her chest.

The study was as elegant as she remembered—cozy and refined, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes.

A crackling fireplace added warmth to the room, casting a soft glow on the dark wood furniture.

Lucas gestured toward one of the plush armchairs near the hearth.

"Please, make yourself at home," he said, guiding his wheelchair to the opposite side of the small sitting area.

Aurora took a seat, smoothing her trousers nervously.

The familiar scent of polished wood and old books filled the air, bringing back memories she tried to push aside.

She looked up to find Lucas staring at her intently.

"I must say," he began, leaning slightly forward in his chair, "your talent and dedication to your craft are truly inspiring. I believe you’re the perfect fit for our upcoming film."

Aurora forced another smile, the formal tone of the conversation unsettling her. "Thank you, Mr. Lucas. I’m intrigued by the project. Could you tell me more about it?"

It felt strange, calling him "Mr. Lucas," as if they were strangers meeting for the first time. But that’s exactly how he saw her now.

Lucas’s assistant, Gabriel, stepped in to answer, his voice smooth and practiced. "The project is set to be a high-concept thriller, focusing on psychological manipulation within a corporate structure. We believe your experience in handling complex narratives will be crucial in bringing this story to life."

Aurora nodded, trying to focus on the professional conversation at hand, though her mind wandered.

Lucas was speaking about her work as if he had researched her thoroughly, as though he admired her talents, but there was no trace of the personal connection they once shared.

"Sounds fascinating," Aurora replied. "I’d love to hear more about the specific direction you’re aiming for."

Lucas looked pleased with her interest. "We’re aiming for something bold. This isn’t just another thriller. It’s about power dynamics, both subtle and overt, and the moral dilemmas that come with them. I’m confident that with your vision, we can create something truly unique."

The conversation flowed, but there was an awkward formality to it.

Every sentence, every exchange, felt off to Aurora—like she was playing a role in some distant theater of her own life.

---

Meanwhile, across town, Julia sat in the backseat of her car, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Her driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror, sensing her mood but wisely staying silent.

Julia tapped her foot impatiently, staring out of the window, her jaw clenched.

Outside, she saw Caleb walking toward the car, his steps slow and carefree.

Julia scowled. "Can’t you walk any faster, Caleb?" she snapped, her voice sharp.

Caleb pouted as he reached the car, his face adorably scrunched up in displeasure.

"Mommy, you shouldn’t be mean to your son," he said, climbing into the backseat with her.

He was small, with dark curls that framed his innocent face.

Julia rolled her eyes, her irritation only growing.

Caleb was spoiled, and it was all Lucas’s fault.

Caleb settled into his seat and crossed his arms, mimicking her posture.

"You know Daddy loves me," he said in a sing-song voice. "He wouldn’t like it if you were scolding me."

Julia’s jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists.

"Your father isn’t here, Caleb," she muttered, though her voice was laced with bitterness.

The other night, Lucas had suggested—no, insisted—that Julia make more of an effort to bond with Caleb.

He had told her to rearrange her busy schedule to pick him up from school, to spend time with him.

Lucas had even implied that she was too hard on the boy, criticizing her for scolding him over "silly things."

As if Lucas had any right to tell her how to parent.

Julia sneered, her thoughts darkening. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. That’s all Lucas ever cared about.

Throughout their entire five years of marriage, Lucas had never once made her feel like she was the priority.

He had never touched her, never shown any affection beyond formalities.

But Caleb?

Caleb was the center of his universe.

She turned her gaze to her son, who was humming to himself in the seat beside her, oblivious to her anger.

Caleb, the golden child. The one Lucas treasured while Julia was left to play the role of the unwanted wife.

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