Billionaire’s Guilt: Chasing her back

Chapter 2

Lily has already been discharged from the hospital.

As a new day dawns, she makes her way down the stairs of their mansion, her pregnant belly making each step a bit of a challenge as she heads towards the kitchen to prepare breakfast. However, she spots Lucian in a corner near the garden, deeply engrossed in a phone call while puffing on a cigarette. His tattooed arms are prominently displayed against the backdrop of his black shirt.

Letting out a sigh, Lily heads into the kitchen to whip up a light breakfast, only to discover a pot of sizzling hot spaghetti on the stove.

Inhaling deeply, she savors the enticing aroma, exactly what she craves, then her brow furrows in bewilderment at the sight of the prepared meal.

Despite being married to Lucian for nearly a year, he has never cooked before.

Leaving the kitchen, Lily walks toward Lucian, a contorted expression etched on her features as smoke twirls in lazy tendrils around him.

Seeing her coming, Lucian promptly extinguishes his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. Lily coughs, attempting to disperse the swirling smoke with futile waves, prompting Lucian to guide her out towards the cleaner air of the living room.

“What do you need?” he asks, his tone practical.

Taking shaky breaths, she tries to inhale fresh air before responding, “You really shouldn’t be smoking indoors, Lucian,” her frown deepening with disapproval.

Lucian, his hands now buried in his pockets, repeats his question, “Do you need something?”

Releasing a shaky breath, Lily replies, “I just… um, did you cook?”

He frowns at her question. “Are you blind? If you see something to eat, then eat it.”

As he begins to walk away, she calls out in frustration, her eyes brimming with tears. “Lucian, you really need to be more considerate in how you speak to me. I’m pregnant now, and we’re going to be parents. We need to figure things out together.”

Lucian halts his steps, turning to face her. He gazes at her for a moment, but remains silent. “Just eat,” he finally says. “I’m heading to work.”

As he starts to walk away again, he pauses and adds, “Stay home today. You’ve just been discharged from the hospital,” before continuing on his way.

Upon Lucian’s arrival at Storm Tower, a hush falls over the room, everyone adopting a composed demeanor to avoid any potential trouble.

Taking the VIP elevator, he reaches his expansive office.

After removing his jacket, he settles into his desk chair, greeted by a stack of reports awaiting his attention.

His female secretary, Sarah May, enters the room with purpose, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor.

“Good morning, Mr. Storm,” Sarah greets with a smile, her affection for him evident in her gaze. “I have your schedule for the day.”

Lucian looks up from his work, his sharp gaze meeting Sarah’s with a nod of acknowledgment. “What’s on the agenda?”

Sarah clears her throat, her fingers flying over her tablet as she lists off the day’s appointments.

“First on the docket, you have a meeting with the heads of the arms manufacturing division to discuss the latest production targets and operational strategies. They’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

Lucian nods, already aware of this meetin

“Following that, Sir, you have a meeting with the shareholders. Tomorrow marks the quarterly meeting of the subsidiary management,” Sarah continues.

Again, Lucian nods in acknowledgment.

Sarah hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering with uncertainty before pressing on. “There’s one more thing, Mr. Storm,” she says, her voice faltering slightly. “You have a lunch meeting with the board of directors to discuss the recent financial projections and the proposed expansion plans for the media division.”

Lucian’s expression darkens at the mention of the board of directors. He knows that they have been growing increasingly restless with the company’s aggressive expansion efforts, and he braces himself for their inevitable resistance.

“It looks like another demanding day ahead,” he remarks, his thoughts momentarily drifting to his wife, prompting him to open his drawer to take a pack of cigarettes.

The atmosphere in the conference room shifts as Lucian Storm enters, his imposing presence casting a shadow over the heads of the arms manufacturing division. They stand rigidly from their seats, their eyes fixed on Lucian with a mixture of respect and fear.

“Sit down,” Lucian commands, his voice low and authoritative, before lighting his cigarette, its smoke filling the room.

Without a word, the division heads obeyed, their nerves on edge in the presence of their formidable CEO.

“Let’s get this over with,” Lucian says, his tone brooking no argument. “I want a report on the latest production targets and operational strategies.”

The division heads exchange nervous glances before the eldest among them, Mr. Thompson, speaks up tentatively. “Sir, the production targets are on track, but we’ve encountered some challenges with the supply chain.”

Lucian’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing through the room like a dagger, as the smoke from his cigar swirls around their noses. “Challenges?” he snaps, his voice a low rumble. “I didn’t ask for excuses. I asked for results.”

Mr. Thompson swallows hard, his hands trembling slightly as he struggles to maintain his composure. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammers. “Uh, it’s not a major issue. I assure you, Sir, we’ve made significant progress in meeting our production targets for the quarter. Our latest shipment of rifles has exceeded expectations, and our new line of armored vehicles is set to launch ahead of schedule. We’re actively working on solutions to address the… minor hiccup.”

Lucian’s lip curled into a sneer, his patience wearing thin. “You’d better,” he warns, his voice a menacing whisper. “Or there will be consequences.”

Surveying the bowed heads before him, his expression inscrutable, Lucian presses on. “Is that all?” he demands, his voice laced with dissatisfaction.

Mr. Thompson hesitates, unsure of how to proceed. “Well, sir,” he begins tentatively, “we’re, uh, already identifying several areas for improvement in our supply chain management and operational efficiency.”

Lucian’s eyes narrow, his gaze piercing through the room like a laser. “Improvement?” he echoes, his tone dripping with disdain. “I don’t want improvement. I want excellence. I want results.”

The division heads exchange nervous glances, their discomfort palpable in the air. They know that Lucian is not one to settle for mediocrity, and his relentless pursuit of perfection leaves no room for excuses.

“Go back,” Lucian orders sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “I want a plan to double our production targets by the end of the quarter. And I want it on my desk by tomorrow morning. If I don’t get it, you’d better start packing.”

With a collective sigh of relief, the division heads hastily rise from their seats and hurry out of the room, eager to escape Damien’s intimidating presence.

Alone in the conference room, Lucian sits in silence, his steely gaze fixed on the door as he continues to smoke.

His phone rings, and he answers curtly, “I’m too busy to talk to anyone right now, Levi.”

Levi’s voice comes through the phone, persistent. “I’ve heard your wife is awake. If she is, isn’t divorce on the table?”

Lucian’s expression softens as he lowers his gaze, a weight settling in his chest. “Not yet. She doesn’t remember,” he responds before ending the call.