The Billionaire's Revenge

Prologue Cameron didn’t hesitate. The moment he saw her—unsteady, laughing too loudly, about to walk out with a stranger—something violent snapped inside him. He stepped in. Paid the bill without looking. Because there was no way in hell she was leaving with someone else. Not her. Not like this. ⸻ She could barely stand. Her body leaned into him, trusting, unaware, completely defenseless. She mumbled something about home, but no address came—just broken words and exhaustion. So he made the decision. His penthouse. The only place he could keep control. The only place he could understand why the hell she was like this. ⸻ He laid her down on the bed. Slowly. Carefully. Too carefully for a man who claims to hate her. Her lips parted slightly, soft and tempting in a way that made his chest tighten. Her lashes rested against her cheeks. Her curls spilled everywhere—wild, messy… familiar. His eyes dropped. And the anger hit him like fire. That dress. Black. Sequined. Clinging to every curve of her body like it was made to be seen. The neckline low enough to make his jaw lock. Her figure— Unchanged. Still perfect. Still dangerous. “What the hell were you doing…” he muttered under his breath. Alone. In a club. Looking like that. His hands clenched into fists. Because he remembers. God, he remembers everything. ⸻ The rain that night. His voice breaking. His pride gone. The way he stood in front of her, desperate— “Please, Camille… don’t do this. Don’t let me go.” And her— Cold. Untouchable. Looking at him like he meant nothing. Like he was nothing. ⸻ “Cameron…” The whisper pulls him back. Soft. Fragile. “…don’t leave.” He freezes. His breath stops. Slowly, he turns. Is she dreaming? Or remembering? Because that— That was his line. Not hers. ⸻ “Camille.” Her name comes out sharp. Controlled. Nothing like the way he used to say it. Her eyes slowly open. Blurry. Vulnerable. And for a second— Just a second— She looks at him the way she used to. Like he was everything. ⸻ It doesn’t last. Because the past slams back in. Hard. He takes a step closer, his gaze dark. “You remember my name now?” he asks coldly. Confusion flickers across her face. “…Cameron?” That soft tone— It almost breaks him again. Almost. But he crushes it. Just like she did. ⸻ He lets out a bitter laugh. Her brows furrow slightly. “I—” “You walked away from me like I was nothing,” he cuts in, voice rising. “Like everything I felt meant nothing to you.” Her lips part, but no words come out. Because she’s too drunk. Too weak. Too late. ⸻ His jaw tightens. “I begged you,” he says quietly, dangerously. “Do you even remember that?” Silence. “I stood there like an i***t,” he continues, his voice dropping. “Asking you to stay. Asking you not to give up on us.” His fists clench. “And you looked at me like I was beneath you.” ⸻ She shakes her head weakly. But it’s barely a sound. Barely a defense. ⸻ His expression hardens completely. “Now look at you.” His eyes drag over her again—not with desire this time, but something sharper. Something crueler. “Throwing yourself at strangers for a drink? Does being my secretary not enough?" The words cut. Even in her state, they land. ⸻ “I didn’t…” she whispers, her voice breaking. But he doesn’t listen. Not anymore. ⸻ “Fine,” he mutters, stepping back like he needs distance from her. “If this is what you’ve become…” His voice turns cold. Dead. “Then I’ll treat you exactly like that.” ⸻ She looks at him—confused, hurt, lost. And he hates that look. Because once upon a time— It would’ve destroyed him. ⸻ Now? It fuels him. Because this— This is his revenge. And for the first time in ten years— Cameron Chase Ford isn’t the one begging anymore.