The Billionaire With My Lover’s Heart

The house was quiet. Not peaceful quiet—empty quiet. The kind that made the air feel heavier than it should. The kind that made you forget how to breathe. Celeste Evans sat at the edge of the long dining table, her back straight, her fingers curled neatly around the stem of a wine glass. She hadn’t taken a sip. The wine wasn’t why she came downstairs. Across from her, her husband sat, buried in his phone. Not once did he look up at her. Not even when the butler served dinner. Just like every other night for the past two years. She could recite this routine in her sleep. Sit. Eat in silence. Leave. But tonight, something inside her refused to stay quiet. Celeste had lived this ghost-life long enough—playing the perfect wife to a man who never saw her, never touched her, never even said her name unless necessary. And yet, she never complained. Because she had chosen this. Because this cold, emotionless marriage held the only thing that still kept her alive. His heartbeat. Or rather… the heartbeat that used to belong to someone else. Her eyes flicked to Ronan Whitmore—the CEO of Whitmore Holdings, heir to a fortune, and her legal husband. He was tall, sharp-jawed, always dressed to perfection. And yet, his coldness could slice through glass. To the world, he was powerful. Dangerous. Untouchable. To her, he was a stranger who lived under the same roof. A stranger whose chest carried the heart of the man she once loved. Celeste lowered her gaze. The food on her plate sat untouched. She didn’t feel hungry. She hadn’t felt hunger in months. But tonight, she had made a decision. One last thing… before she let go. “Ronan,” she said softly. He didn’t answer. His fingers were still tapping something on his screen. She raised her voice just a little. “Ronan.” His eyes flicked up, slow and irritated. “What?” Celeste swallowed. “Can I ask you for something?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Is it money?” Her chest tightened. He always thought that of her—that she’d married him for his wealth. And she’d never bothered to explain otherwise. She shook her head. “No.” He arched a brow. “Then what do you want?” She stood up slowly, her legs feeling like glass. Every step she took around the table echoed like it meant something. When she stood beside him, she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. “I want to lay my head on your chest.” Silence. He blinked. “What?” Her heart pounded. “Just for a moment. Nothing else.” He stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “What kind of sick joke is this?” “It’s not a joke,” she said quietly. Ronan pushed his chair back, rising to his full height. His face was hard, unreadable. “You don’t speak to me for months,” he said coldly, “and now you want to cuddle?” Celeste flinched at the word. “I’m not asking for affection.” He scoffed. “Then what are you asking for?” She looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just want to hear your heartbeat.” He stilled. The tension between them stretched like ice about to crack. Ronan’s expression twisted. “You’re insane.” Her hands curled into fists at her sides, but her voice stayed calm. “You don’t have to understand. Just… allow it. One minute. Then I’ll leave.” “Why?” he demanded. “What kind of nonsense is this?” Celeste didn’t answer. Because how could she say it? How could she tell him that the heart beating inside his chest once belonged to the only man she ever loved? How could she say she married him only to stay close to that heart? He wouldn’t believe her. He’d laugh. Or worse, look at her with even more disgust than he already did. Ronan muttered a curse under his breath. “Do whatever you want. But make it quick.” He walked into the lounge area and sank down onto the couch, pulling off his blazer and tossing it aside like the conversation hadn’t rattled him. But she saw it. The way his hands trembled just slightly. The way he loosened his tie and turned his face away. He thought she was weird. He always had. Celeste followed, her breath shallow. She sat beside him carefully, leaving space between them. The couch felt too soft, too intimate. It had never held both of them at once before. He didn’t speak. Just leaned his head back and waited. Celeste took one breath… then leaned in. Her cheek pressed against the thin fabric of his dress shirt, over the strong beat of his chest. There it was. That sound. That rhythm. Thump… thump… thump. Her hands trembled. Her heart shattered. She bit her lower lip to stop the sob that rose in her throat. Because even though Ronan’s arms weren’t warm… Even though he didn’t hold her… Even though he would never care… This heartbeat… was once hers. It had belonged to Adrian. The boy with gentle hands and a crooked smile. The one who told her the world was beautiful even when she didn’t believe it. The one who died saving someone else. She had buried him. And then… She married the man who walked away with his heart. She didn’t know why. She didn’t ask questions. She only followed that heartbeat. Ronan shifted slightly. “Are you done yet?” She nodded, eyes shut. “Almost.” One more second. One more moment. She memorized the rhythm. And then she pulled back. “Thank you,” she whispered, rising from the couch. She didn’t wait for a reply. She walked away, each step heavier than the last. And Ronan… just sat there, silent and confused. He didn’t know what that moment meant to her. He didn’t know that tonight… she had said goodbye. Not to him. But to the boy whose heart he never knew he carried.