Betrothed to the Billionaire

Chapter 23

Lisa’s POV

“…you don’t get to pretend like her being here doesn’t matter, she didn’t come back quietly this time.” Chris was saying. His tone wasn’t casual this time, it carried weight.

Ethan responded, flat, unmoved. “I’m not pretending about anything.”

“She shouldn’t get to walk back into your life like nothing happened,” Chris added.

“She doesn’t get to walk into anything,” Ethan replied. “Drop it,” I mean it Chris, he added.

That was different, not louder but deeper and more final.

“Alright,” Chris said after a moment. “Message received.”

My grip tightened around the crutch, l didn’t move… Not yet because something about that… stayed, who ever she was… she mattered enough to get that reaction.

I adjusted my expression, neutral, unreadable. Then continued down the remaining steps, neither of them noticed me immediately. Good I thought.

Then… Chris turned, his expression shifted instantly to surprise then to warmth.

“Well,” he said lightly, straightening, “look who decided to join the living.”

Ethan turned.

His gaze landed on me instantly, sharp, assessing. Then… lower to the crutches, to my foot.

“You shouldn’t be using the stairs alone,” he said. No greeting, no softness just… correction.

“I had help,” I replied almost in the same tone.

His jaw tightened slightly, not disagreement, not approval just acknowledgment.

Chris stepped forward.

“Careful,” he said, reaching out instinctively. “I don’t think your doctor would appreciate you testing gravity this early.”

“I’m not testing anything,” I said. “I’m bored.”

That made him laugh, a real one.

“Fair,” he said. “That sounds more dangerous, actually.”

Only then did I notice the flowers in his hand, white lilies, simple, elegant.

“I didn’t know what to bring,” he said, holding them out. “So I went with something safe.”

I took them carefully.

“Thank you.”

“They’re for recovery,” he added casually. “Not sympathy. You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys being pitied.”

“I don’t,” I said teasingly.

“I figured,” he smiled.

The conversation was easy… too easy. And maybe that was why…

“Chris.”

Ethan’s voice cut in, low.

Chris glanced at him, then back at me and smiled slightly.

“Right, I’m being told to behave.”

“You’re not here to entertain,” Ethan said.

Chris raised a brow.

“I wasn’t aware conversation counted as entertainment.”

“It does when it distracts.”

“Distracts from what?”

Ethan didn’t answer immediately, his gaze shifted to me again briefly, measuring.

Then…

“You should be resting.”

“I’ve been resting for days,” I replied.

“And yet,” he said coolly, “you’re still injured.”

“That’s how injuries work.”

Chris let out a quiet breath like he was trying not to laugh, Ethan ignored him completely.

“You don’t recover faster by being impatient,” he continued. “You recover by following instructions.”

“And whose instructions would that be?” I asked.

His eyes met mine, direct, unwavering.

“Mine.”

The silence that followed was… thick, not loudly or aggressively but heavy enough to feel.

Chris shifted slightly, breaking it.

“You know,” he said, more casually now, “for someone who claims not to care, you’ve rearranged half your schedule this week.”

Ethan didn’t look at him.

“I didn’t rearrange anything.”

“You canceled three meetings.”

“They were unnecessary.”

“You rescheduled a board review.”

“It can wait.”

Chris tilted his head slightly, watching him.

“And you left early. Twice.”

That… that made Ethan look at him, “is there a point to this?” he asked, voice cooling further.

Chris smiled faintly.

“Not really, just… making an observation.”

“And your observation is irrelevant.”

“Is it?”

A pause, then… Chris looked at me. “For the record,” he said, almost lightly, “this man has never adjusted his routine for anyone. Not for friends, not for business partners. Not…”

“That’s enough.” The interruption was immediate, sharp and final.

Chris raised both hands slightly.

“Alright.”

But the damage… was done

I almost laughed, I was enjoying that a bit too much. I didn’t say anything, didn’t react or ask questions. Ethan looked… irritated, not at me but at Chris. At the conversation, at something else entirely.

I moved toward the couch slowly, carefully, Chris stepped back, giving space, observing.

And Ethan, he didn’t look at me, not immediately. But his presence… stayed heavy, unavoidable.

After few more banters between them, the maid announced that the table was set for lunch. We had lunch quietly, moments after lunch was relaxed and settled until my phone buzzed, once, then again… again. I didn’t need to check, I knew who it was, Daniela.

Chris noticed the shift, Ethan noticed the silence. “Turn it off,” Ethan said. Not loud, not harsh but that annoyed me.

I picked it up,looked at the screen. Multiple messages, back-to-back. I opened one.

“Lisa, we need to talk. Stop ignoring me.”

Another.

“You don’t get to disappear like this.”

Another, longer this time.

“I know you better than anyone. This silence, this isn’t you. So drop whatever act this is and call me.”

I almost smiled not because it was amusing, but because it was… she was consistent which was predictable.

I locked the phone.

Placed it down, the silence didn’t settle immediately after I dropped the phone. It lingered, uncomfortably.

Chris leaned back slightly, studying me in a way that wasn’t intrusive… but wasn’t casual either.

“…You two always like this?” he asked, glancing between us.

I didn’t answer.

Ethan didn’t either.

Chris let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Because if this is normal, I think I missed the memo.”

There was humor in his tone.

Light.

Careful.

“Then stop trying to understand it.”

Chris huffed a short laugh.

“Fair enough.”

But his eyes flicked to me again when my phone buzzed again, “this person is persistent.” He said.

“Persistence implies effort,” I replied calmly. “This is just… refusal to accept irrelevance.”

That earned me a look, not from Chris, from Ethan. Brief and gone, Chris exhaled quietly, shaking his head.

“Still,” he added, “people don’t usually push this hard unless they think they still have something to gain.”

“They always think that,” I said. “That’s the problem.”

Ethan finally spoke.

“Then stop giving them the impression that they do.”

My gaze shifted to him.

“I’m not engaging.”

“You answered.”

“No, I didn’t. I ended it.”

A pause.

“That’s still engagement,” he said flatly. Something in me almost reacted… almost, but I let it go.

“Noted,” I replied instead.

Chris glanced between us, then sighed softly, pushing himself up.

“Well,” he said, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve, “I think I’ve walked into enough tension for one afternoon.”

No one stopped him, he looked at me.

“Take it easy, yeah? Recovery first. Pride later.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Then he turned to Ethan, a look passed between them, unspoken.

Unspoken.

“I’ll call you,” Chris said.

Ethan gave a short nod, “that won’t be necessary.”

Chris smirked slightly.

“Right, because you always pick up.”

No response.

“Thought so,” he muttered, already heading toward the door. And just like that… he was gone.

The space he left behind… didn’t feel lighter. If anything… it felt more defined. Ethan moved then, not toward me. He picked up his phone, checked something. Typed and set it down.

“You should go back to your room, you’ve had enough.” He said dismissively.

“I was planning to,” I responded coldly too. The maid stepped forward immediately, helping me up, adjusting the crutches. The walk back upstairs was slower, more exhausting than I expected. She helped me settle in bed, adjusted the pillows and made sure my leg was elevated properly. She left quietly after that.

My parents called to check in, I didn’t bore them with story of my sprained ankle, they had a lot on their plate already. They just wanted me to call often, I dozed off after the call.

The door to my room opened gently, waking me up. Ethan stepped in, no knocking.

“Don’t you think you need to knock, then invited in before opening the door?” I asked irritably.

“This is my house, I don’t need permission before entering any room.”

“I have right to privacy, your house or not!” I snapped. He didn’t respond, just walked in and placed something on the table beside the bed.

A file, my eyes shifted to it, then back to him.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Something you should read.”

My brows pulled together slightly.