The Billionaire's Fated Love

Chapter 4

At Williams Villa in Bree City…

"Where are you right now?!" Lawrence’s voice wasn't just loud; it was jagged with weeks of accumulated fury as he paced the halls of the villa like a caged animal.

Esme had told him Vernice vanished with Hans. But she played the part of the ignorant mother to perfection, claiming she had no idea where they’d gone.

On the other end of the line, Vernice pulled the phone away from her ear, her expression flat. "What do you want, Father?"

She was done playing the role of the dutiful daughter. To her, Lawrence was a man haunted by the ghosts of Rose and Yssabelle; why should she care about his demands when she was always his second choice?

Lawrence sighed harshly. "I need you here. There are loose ends with the De Clarions that haven't been tied. And to top it off, I can’t even use the villa—they want the keys back!"

"Listen to me carefully," Vernice said, her voice hardened with conviction. "I am not marrying Tristan De Clarion. I don’t care what kind of deal was made between two dead grandfathers. I have Hans, and you can’t force me into a cage with a man I don't know." She ended the call before he could respond.

Vernice sank back into the plush couch of their rented apartment and leaned her head on Hans’s shoulder. The man didn't look up from the documents he was reviewing, but a faint, calculated smile touched his lips. "Was that your father again?"

Vernice nodded as she reached for a slice of cake on the coffee table.

"You know," Hans put the papers down and stretched his arms. "Your father actually has a point."

Vernice paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrowed. "Are you saying you’re fine with me being someone else’s wife?"

"Not forever," Hans hummed smoothly. He reached out for her hand and squeezed it lightly. He sounded like a man giving sound financial advice rather than a lover. "We’ve been together seven years, babe. We’re basically married in every way that counts. But you missed the bigger picture. You could have married him, waited a year or two, and then walked away with a divorce settlement that would make us millionaires overnight. Think about the alimony, babe. This is Tristan De Clarion we’re talking about. He’s the sole heir to an empire."

Vernice slowly put the fork down. She hadn't thought of it that way. In her rush to be rebellious, she had missed the heist. "What can I do now?" she pouted and lightly kicked the table. "I doubt he’d ever take me back after I stood him up."

"That’s the tragedy," Hans shrugged, turning back to the documents on the table. "You threw away a winning lottery ticket because you were being rash."

Back in Bree, inside the executive office of De Clarion Empire, Belle sat at her new desk, staring at a text from Nathalie. Her friend was inviting her to a club that night. A small smile played on her lips. Jacob hadn't given her a single task yet, and the silence of the office made her skin crawl.

Suddenly, the white phone on her desk shrilled. She picked it up.

"Get me a coffee." Tristan’s voice snapped through the line. Click.

He didn't even wait for her to acknowledge him. Belle stared at the receiver and stuck her tongue out.

"Make sure he doesn't catch you doing that," Jacob’s voice came from across her.

Belle’s face turned a deep, embarrassed crimson. She scrambled to her feet, ducked her head as she hurried out of the office.

Jacob waited until the door clicked shut before letting out a genuine laugh. He couldn't wrap his head around it. This girl was nothing like the snobbish, icy Vernice he’d met in the past.

Minutes later, his phone buzzed—an encrypted file from his private investigators. As he read the report on the Williams family, his brows furrowed in genuine shock. He immediately got up and headed into Tristan’s private office.

Tristan scanned the document Jacob handed him, and tons of reactions crossed his face.

The report revealed the deep scars of the Williams family. Lawrence’s first marriage to Rose. The k********g of their daughter, Yssabelle. The hundred-million-dollar ransom. The crossfire at the docks. The girl who fell into the sea.

"Wait… if Yssabelle was the eldest... then she was the one I was originally promised to? Not Vernice?"

Before Jacob could answer, a soft knock came at the door. Jacob opened it to find Belle standing there. She held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a small saucer with a slice of dark chocolate cake in the other.

Jacob blinked. 'Since when does Tristan eat cake?'

"I brought your coffee, Mr. De Clarion," Belle said cheerfully, stepping into the room with a bounce in her step. She set the coffee down and slid the cake onto the desk next to it. "And this is a little thank-you gift for hiring me."

Jacob bit his lip, trying to hide a smile. He knew exactly what was coming. Tristan hated two things: surprises and being given things he didn't ask for.

Tristan stared at the cake as if it were a ticking bomb. "I didn't order this. Take it away." He gave the saucer a sharp, entitled shove toward the edge of the desk.

Belle’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she tried again. "I’m giving it to you because I’m grateful for the job. I saw an interview where you said you don't like sweets, so I made sure this wasn't 'annoyingly sweet.' Just try it." She pushed the saucer back toward him.

Tristan’s patience snapped. He was the CEO; he didn't take suggestions from secretaries, especially not ones who looked like his runaway bride, with a sudden sweep of his hand—SMASH!

The saucer hit the floor, the glass shattering, and the cake lay on the carpet in a dark smear.

Belle jumped back, her eyes wide. But instead of crying or shrinking away, her temper flared. "Hey! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Jacob winced, covering his face with his hand.

Tristan stood up, leaning over his desk, his gaze icy. "Are you actually questioning me? Do you want to go there, Miss Roberts?"

Belle took a breath, realizing she had overstepped her professional bounds. She lowered her head, though her jaw remained set. She knelt on the floor, picking up the large shards of glass and the ruined cake from the carpet. A sharp edge of glass sliced into her palm, drawing a thin line of blood, but she didn't even flinch.

She stood up, her hands full of debris. "I’ll clean up the rest after I toss this.” She turned to leave, but stopped at the door. She couldn't help herself. She turned back to the most powerful man in Bree City. "You know, it’s a sin to throw away food. Especially when someone was just trying to be nice."

Tristan stared at her, speechless.

"And I'm taking the coffee back, too," Belle added, snatching the cup off his desk. "I bought that with my own money. If you want one now, I'll go get one on the company's tab."

She turned on her heel and marched out, the door clicking firmly behind her.

The silence in the office was deafening.

"What... just happened?" Tristan asked, staring at the empty doorway.

"I believe," Jacob said, his voice trembling with suppressed laughter, "she just gave you a piece of her mind, Boss."

Tristan glared at him. "Get out, Jacob."

Jacob didn't wait. He practically bolted from the room before he exploded into laughter.

Tristan sank into his chair, massaging the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but for the first time in years, he was also intrigued.

A few minutes later, another knock sounded.

"Come in!"