Betrayed By My Ex, I Became The Billionaire's Obsession

Chapter Three: Letters to Lulu

My heart pounds as I stare at Ethan, the text’s words—Ask him about Lulu’s promise, Lily. Or you’ll burn like they did—searing my mind. His cobalt eyes, usually so steady, flicker with something raw, maybe fear, as he steps closer in the dimly lit hallway. The gala’s distant hum feels worlds away, and Elena’s chilling exit lingers like a ghost. Lulu’s promise. The fire. Them. Each word is a puzzle piece, and I’m terrified to see the picture they form.

“Lily,” Ethan says, his voice low, urgent, “what’s on your phone?”

I clutch it tighter, my fingers trembling. “You first, Ethan. Who’s Lulu to you? And what promise?” My voice shakes, but I hold his gaze, desperate for truth. His scar catches the light, a reminder of secrets he’s kept.

He hesitates, his jaw tight, then reaches for my hand. His touch is warm, grounding, and despite my fear, it sends a jolt through me. “I want to tell you everything,” he says, his voice softening, “but not here. Come with me. Please.”

“Where?” I ask, pulling back slightly. My heart aches to trust him, but Elena’s words and that text scream danger.

“Somewhere safe,” he says, his eyes pleading. “My penthouse. No crowds, no interruptions. Just us.”

The word “us" tugs at something deep inside me, a longing I’ve buried for years. But the text’s threat—burn like they did—makes my skin prickle. “Safe?” I whisper. “Someone’s watching me, Ethan. They know things about me—things no one should.”

His face hardens, a storm brewing in his eyes. “Show me.”

I hesitate, then unlock my phone and hold it up. His gaze scans the text, and his expression shifts—shock, then fury. “Lulu,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice laced with pain. “They’re trying to scare you.”

“Who’s they?” I demand, my voice rising. “Elena? Someone else? And why do they call me Lulu?”

Ethan’s hand cups my cheek, his touch so gentle it nearly undoes me. “I swear, Lily, I’ll protect you. But we need to leave. Now.”

Before I can argue, a sharp voice cuts through the hallway. “Running away already, Blackwood?” Claire strides toward us, her platinum hair gleaming, her red lips curled in a sneer. James trails behind, his face a mix of desperation and anger. The crowd beyond the curtains cranes to watch, drawn to the drama.

“Stay out of this, Claire,” Ethan snaps, his arm sliding protectively around me. The gesture sends a thrill through me, even as my fear spikes.

Claire laughs, venomous. “Oh, Lily, you’re so naive. You think he loves you? He’s using you to humiliate James. You’re just a pawn in his game.”

My chest tightens, her words echoing my doubts. I look at Ethan, searching for denial, but his silence stings. “Is that true?” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His eyes lock onto mine, fierce and unwavering. “No, Lily. You’re not a pawn. You’re everything.” He turns to Claire, his voice deadly. “You and Carter are done here. Leave, or I’ll make sure your father’s empire crumbles by morning.”

Claire’s smirk falters, but James steps forward, his voice pleading. “Lily, please. Don’t trust him. He’s got secrets—dark ones. I know you’re hurt, but we can fix this. Come back to me.”

His words are a slap, and I laugh, sharp and bitter. “Fix this? You broke me, James. You and your shortcut.” I gesture to Claire, whose eyes flash with rage. “I’m done with you.”

Ethan’s arm tightens around me, and for a moment, I feel invincible, his strength fueling mine. But Claire’s voice drops, sly and cutting. “Ask him about the fire, Lily. Ask what he did to his family.”

The word “fire" hits like a bullet, echoing Elena’s warning. Ethan’s body tenses, and I feel his heartbeat quicken against me. “Get out,” he growls, his voice a low thunder. “Now.”

Claire smirks but backs away, dragging James with her. The crowd parts, their whispers a buzzing swarm, but my focus is on Ethan. His face is a mask, but his eyes betray a storm of guilt and fear.

“Let’s go,” he says, guiding me toward a side exit. My mind races—Claire’s taunts, Elena’s cryptic words, the text’s threat. Yet his touch, firm and warm, pulls me forward, a lifeline in the chaos.

We slip into a sleek black car waiting outside, the city lights blurring as we speed toward his penthouse. The silence between us is heavy, charged with unspoken questions. I glance at him, his profile sharp against the window, and my heart aches with a mix of desire and dread.

“Ethan,” I say softly, “I need answers. Tonight.”

He turns, his eyes softening, and takes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. The simple touch ignites a warmth I can’t ignore, even with fear gnawing at me. “You’ll have them, Lily,” he says, his voice a promise. “But first, let me show you something.”

The car stops at a towering skyscraper, and we ride a private elevator to the top. His penthouse is breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittering below, soft jazz playing in the background. But it’s the small details that stop me cold: a vase of lavender, my favorite flower; a bookshelf with my dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre, the one I lost years ago.

“How do you know these things about me?” I ask, my voice trembling. I step closer, drawn to him despite the warning bells in my head. “The flowers, the book… it’s like you’ve been in my life forever.”

Ethan’s gaze is intense, almost reverent. “Because you’ve been in mine,” he says, his voice low, raw. He closes the distance, his hand brushing my cheek, and my breath catches. “Lily, I’ve waited years for this moment. To see you, to hold you. I won’t lose you again.”

His words are a melody, wrapping around my heart, and when he leans in, his lips hovering over mine, I’m powerless. The kiss is slow, searing, a collision of need and promise. My hands find his chest, his heartbeat strong under my palms, and for a moment, the world—Claire, James, the texts—fades away. It’s just us, and it feels like home.

But the moment shatters when my phone buzzes on the counter, the screen lighting up with a new text. Ethan pulls back, his eyes darkening as I grab it. My hands shake as I read the message, my blood turning to ice.

You’re in his penthouse, Lulu. Did he tell you he watched you for years? Check the drawer in his study. The truth will break you.

My gaze snaps to Ethan, who’s watching me, his face unreadable. “What’s in your study?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

His jaw clenches, and he steps back, guilt flashing in his eyes. “Lily, don’t—”

But I’m already moving, driven by a need to know. I find the study, a sleek room with a mahogany desk. My fingers fumble with the drawer, locked, but a small key glints on the shelf. My heart pounds as I unlock it, revealing a stack of letters, yellowed with age, all addressed to “Lulu.”

I open one, my breath hitching at the familiar handwriting. I’ll find you, Lulu. No matter how long it takes. The date is from fifteen years ago, when I was a teenager. My eyes dart to Ethan, standing in the doorway, his expression a mix of anguish and resolve.

“Ethan,” I say, my voice breaking, “you’ve known me all this time. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Before he can answer, the penthouse’s lights flicker, and a loud crash echoes from the living room. Ethan grabs my arm, pulling me behind him as footsteps approach, heavy and deliberate. A voice calls out, cold and familiar—Elena’s.

“You can’t hide her forever, Ethan,” she says, her shadow looming in the doorway. “She deserves to know what you did to us.”

My heart stops, the letters trembling in my hands, as a figure steps into view—not just Elena, but a man, his face obscured, holding something that glints in the dark.