Second Chance With My Billionaire Love

Angry and humiliated

Otthen’s fists were clenched, and his jaw was set so tightly that his teeth hurt. Rage pulsed through his veins, fierce and unyielding, heating his blood until he felt it burn beneath his skin.

How dare she?

Otthen’s body trembled with barely contained fury, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into the flesh of his palms.

The pain was a welcome distraction and a brief respite from his anger. His jaw was set like stone, the tension so fierce that his teeth ached, but he barely noticed.

The fire within him demanded attention and ate away at every thought.

He turned abruptly from the window, pacing across the cavernous room like a caged predator, his footsteps echoing against the cold marble floor. The elegant space—lined with priceless artwork and custom furnishings—felt suffocating, a mockery of the control he thought he had over his life. His hand lashed out suddenly, sweeping a crystal decanter off the bar. It shattered against the floor, scattering shards of glass like jagged pieces of his fractured pride.

“Damn it, Cambrik!” he roared, his voice a raw, guttural eruption that reverberated through the mansion.

The memories of the previous night flashed in fragmented, hazy images. The hotel lobby. The dull hum of meaningless conversations. The whiskey burning down his throat as he drowned his frustrations. And Cambrik—standing there, her eyes piercing through him, full of questions and accusations he wasn’t sober enough to answer. He had told her, insisted even, that they would talk in the morning. Hadn’t that been enough?

But no, apparently not. She had to walk out, in the middle of the night, with him. Solen Hawt. Otthen’s chest heaved as the thought seared through him like a brand.

“f*****g Solen,” he spat, the name venomous on his tongue. His business partner. The man he’d trusted, sat across from in countless boardrooms, shared toasts with at million-dollar deals. And now, the bastard had driven his wife—Mrs. Neor—out of the mansion like some thief in the night.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he stopped pacing, his eyes blazing with an intensity that would have made lesser men cower. A mocking voice whispered in the back of his mind. Have you lost your edge, Otthen? Did you not see this coming?

“Forgotten who the f**k she is?” he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice low but shaking with barely suppressed rage. He slammed his fist against the wall, the impact reverberating through his arm. “She’s Cambrik Neor! Mrs. Neor! And she dares to humiliate me? In front of the staff? The guards? At night? With Solen?”

The mention of the bodyguards—their silent, impassive faces as they undoubtedly watched her leave—drove the dagger deeper. How many of them had whispered amongst themselves? How many of them had exchanged glances, speculating on what had led to the scene they witnessed?

Otthen’s shoulders tensed, and he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers gripping the strands so tightly it hurt. He stared at his reflection in the large mirror over the fireplace. His usually immaculate image now looked as wild as he felt—his hair disheveled, his tie loosened, his eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night.

“This isn’t over,” he growled at the man in the mirror, his voice a promise laced with menace. “You think you can walk out, Cambrik? You think you can humiliate me? With him?” His hand struck the edge of the mantle, sending a decorative vase tumbling to the floor. It shattered, much like the remains of his restraint.

The fragments of glass sparkled against the floor, a cruel reflection of the chaos within him. His breathing slowed, just enough to let the fury simmer rather than boil over. This wasn’t just about anger now; it was about power. Control. Retribution.

Otthen straightened, his expression hardening into an unreadable mask, the businessman returning to the forefront. But this time, the icy calm was underpinned by something far more dangerous—a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“I’ll find you, Cambrik,” he whispered, the words sharp and cold. “And when I do, you’ll remember exactly who the hell you belong to.”

------------------

Later.

The tires screeched as Otthen Neor’s black luxury car tore up the pristine driveway of the Hawt secondary mansion. Or perhaps Solen Hawt’s personal living house. It was not far away from Otthen’s personal mansion.

The sprawling estate loomed ahead, its grandeur doing little to temper the inferno blazing within him. He threw the car into park with a jerking motion, barely waiting for the engine to stop before he stormed out, his footsteps heavy and unrelenting on the gravel path.

The mansion doors opened as if anticipating his arrival. There stood Solen Hawt, tall and composed, his broad shoulders squared, his expression calm but unyielding. It was clear he had been waiting. The tension in the air was palpable, like the electric hum before a thunderstorm.

Otthen stepped inside, his presence radiating anger like a furnace. His dark eyes burned, locking onto Solen with the intensity of a predator closing in on its prey.

“How dare you,” Otthen snarled, his voice a low growl that echoed in the grand entryway. His hands were fists at his sides, trembling with rage. “How dare you take my wife away from my home?”

Solen didn’t flinch. His chin lifted slightly, his jaw tightening, but his voice remained steady. “And you’d have preferred to see your wife sitting alone in the rain? In the middle of the night? Is that the husband you are, Otthen?”

Otthen’s roar was immediate, reverberating through the opulent hall. “You don’t get to think about her! You don’t get to decide anything about her! How dare you take such a big step without telling me!” His finger pointed accusingly at Solen, his chest heaving with every breath. “How does she even know you well enough to call you?”

Solen took a step forward, his calm demeanor now tinged with steel. “You’re making a mistake, Otthen,” he said evenly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Don’t forget that your wife is a close friend of my sister, Genia Hawt.”

Otthen froze, his anger momentarily faltering. The truth struck him like a blow to the chest. Genia. Of course. He knew of Cambrik’s friendship with Solen’s younger sister, but the chaos of the past day had blinded him to the connection.

Solen seized the moment. “Cambrik called my home last night,” he said, his voice firm but laced with something softer, something almost protective. “She was looking for Genia. But Genia isn’t here right now. I answered the call. And let me tell you something, Otthen—when I heard her voice, I could feel it. She was sad. Broken. You might not care about what that means, but I do.”

Otthen’s lips parted to retort, but no words came. Solen’s words lingered in the air like a challenge, daring him to refute them.

Solen stepped closer, his gaze unyielding as he stared Otthen down. “So I made a decision. I helped her. Not because of you, and certainly not for your approval. I helped her because she’s not just your wife. She’s my sister’s friend. Someone I’ve known long enough to know she deserved better than whatever hell she’s been living with you.”

Otthen’s fists clenched tighter, his pride battling the icy truth Solen had thrown in his face. “She’s my wife,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to—”

Solen cut him off, his voice rising, his composure finally cracking. “And I don’t need your permission to do what’s right, Otthen!” He took another step forward, their faces inches apart now, the tension crackling between them. “You don’t own her feelings. You don’t control her pain. And you sure as hell don’t get to dictate how I treat someone who called out for help.”

The words hit Otthen like a tidal wave, his anger crashing against the solid wall of Solen’s conviction. For a moment, the only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, both men glaring at each other like opposing forces of nature.

Then, Solen’s voice softened, but his eyes remained sharp. “Do you get it now, Otthen? This isn’t about you. It never was.”

Otthen’s jaw tightened, the storm in his mind clashing with the undeniable truth in Solen’s words ignited with fury as Otthen’s voice roared through the Hawt mansion like a primal thunderclap. His presence, overwhelming and ferocious, seemed to darken the opulence around them.

“Where the f**k is she?” Otthen bellowed, his voice cracking like a whip. His fists were trembling with rage, his body vibrating with the sheer force of his fury. “Tell her to bring her ass back here. Right f*****g now!”

Solen’s eyes widened momentarily at the outburst, his shock evident, but he quickly composed himself. “Otthen,” he said, his voice edged with controlled steel, “how the hell are you behaving? Is this how you talk to her at home? Is this what she’s been dealing with?”

Otthen’s teeth ground together audibly, his jaw so tight it seemed like it might shatter under the strain. “Didn’t I f*****g tell you to stay out of this matter?” he barked, stepping closer, his finger stabbing the air between them. “Doesn’t it get through your thick skull? Are you f*****g deaf?”

Solen stood his ground, his expression firm despite the palpable tension crackling around them. “Otthen, you need to go home. Right now. Calm yourself down. You’re not thinking straight, and you’re definitely not acting rationally.”

The suggestion was like gasoline to Otthen’s inferno. He stepped even closer, his voice booming with unrestrained fury. “You don’t get the f*****g right to tell me what I shall or shall not do!” His hand slashed through the air. “She is my wife! What the hell is she doing here? In your home?”

Solen, his voice growing quieter but sharper, replied, “She’s upset, Otthen. She needed space. She needed peace.”

Otthen laughed—a bitter, jagged sound that echoed harshly against the mansion walls. His eyes burned with venom as he spat, “Peace? Peace? Did her goddamn family give me any peace? Huh? Did they?”

Solen’s composure faltered. He took a step back, caught off guard by the venom in Otthen’s words. His brows furrowed, his lips parting as though to speak, but Otthen didn’t give him a chance.

“Don’t forget who the hell has been taking care of her for the last three f*****g years!” Otthen shouted, his voice raw with anger and something darker, something more primal. “While her so-called family abandoned her, while they turned their backs and left her to rot in her misery, who was there? Me!”

Solen’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening as Otthen’s tirade continued.

“Since then, she’s been living on my mercy! And you think you can waltz in here and act like the savior?” Otthen’s voice cracked, his tone growing more venomous. “She’s nothing but a f*****g pathetic housewife who knows nothing! Nothing but crying, complaining, and yelling! Every. Single. Day!”

Solen’s eyes darkened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He took a deliberate step forward, his voice now low and trembling with restrained anger. “You arrogant bastard,” he said, his words measured but razor-sharp. “Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying?”

Otthen didn’t falter, his glare burning hotter. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I’ve had enough of this bullshit.”

Solen’s voice rose, slicing through Otthen’s rage like a sword. “Enough? Enough? You think it’s you who’s had enough? Do you ever stop to think about what she’s been through? What it’s like to live with you? The anger, the control, the suffocation?”

Otthen’s face twisted into a scowl, his breathing heavy, but for a moment, he said nothing. The silence was thick, oppressive, charged with the weight of their confrontation.

Solen stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “You don’t own her, Otthen. No matter what you think, no matter how much you shout or pound your chest, she’s not your f*****g property.”

Otthen’s lip curled, his fists trembling as he fought to keep himself from snapping completely. “Get her out here,” he hissed, his voice deadly quiet now. “Now.”

Solen met his gaze, unflinching, unwavering. “She’s not coming out, Otthen,” he said firmly. “Not until she’s ready. And not because you demanded it.”