Betrayed By The Billionaire

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The silence in the Bishop Manor was heavier than any scream. Chloe Bishop hadn't uttered a single syllable since she crossed the threshold. She simply sat on the velvet sofa, her feet bandaged but her eyes fixed on a point in space that no one else could see.

Madam Bishop felt her world tilting. She had seen her daughter handle high-society scandals with a smirk and business rivals with cold logic, but she had never seen her like this—hollow, as if the person inhabiting her body had been vacuumed out.

"Chloe, talk to me! Please, don't scare your mother," Madam Bishop sobbed, her hands trembling as she touched Chloe’s cold shoulder. "Did Xavier lay a finger on you? Did he hit you?"

She checked for bruises. There were no marks of a struggle on her arms or neck. There was a small, jagged scrape on her forehead and the horrific purple bruising on her knees, but they didn't look like the results of a beating. They looked like impact wounds—as if she had thrown herself against something hard and unyielding.

Frantic and seeing no other choice, Madam Bishop grabbed her phone and dialed Xavier’s private line.

The call went straight to voicemail.

Her face flushed with a mixture of terror and maternal fury, she immediately dialed Vince. This time, the connection clicked open.

"Where is Xavier? Is he too much of a coward to answer his wife's mother?" Madam Bishop barked into the receiver.

On the other end, Vince stole a glance at the "Demon CEO," who was sitting in his study like a statue of black marble. Vince switched the call to speakerphone. "My apologies, Madam Bishop. The President is currently occupied. You sound... distressed. Has something happened?"

"Distressed? My daughter walked across the city in her pajamas! Barefoot! She has been sobbing in my arms for an hour and now she won't even blink! Did they have a fight? Did he strike her?"

"Madam, I assure you, the President did not have an argument with the Young Madam. And he certainly did not lay a hand on her."

Vince spoke the technical truth. There was no argument—only an abduction to a cellar. There was no physical blow—only the psychological torture of the abyss. To Xavier, a dungeon was more efficient than a shouting match.

"Then why is she like this?" Madam Bishop’s voice broke into a helpless wail.

"Madam Bishop, please be calm. Describe her state to me."

"She cried until she ran out of tears. Now she's just... sitting there. Motionless. Silent. Like a doll with the stuffing ripped out."

Beside Vince, Xavier’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He heard the raw pain in his mother-in-law's voice, but his heart remained locked behind the "evidence" of the photos.

Suddenly, the line went dead.

The Question That Chilled the Air

Madam Bishop stared at her phone, her hand shaking so hard it slipped from her grip. A moment ago, Chloe had leaned forward. Her dry, cracked lips had moved, whispering five words that made the hair on Madam Bishop’s neck stand up.

"Mom... have you ever seen a ghost?"

Before she could process the sheer horror of the question, Chloe had retreated back into her catatonic stare, her eyes turning glassy once more.

The house felt colder. Even Baby Bella, usually the most placid of infants, began to wail in the nursery upstairs. The nannies tried to soothe her with a bottle, but the child’s cries were inconsequential—she was reacting to the sudden, thick atmosphere of dread permeating the manor.

Terrified that her daughter had truly lost her mind, Madam Bishop didn't call a doctor. She called the only person in Haicheng who understood the "old ways" and the darker side of family legacies: Old Mrs. Tang.

The Arrival of the Protectors

Forty minutes later, the screech of tires on gravel announced the arrival of help.

Old Mrs. Tang swept into the living room, her face etched with gravity. But she wasn't alone. Towering behind her was Donovan Tang, his "Iron Commander" aura so sharp it felt like it could cut the very air.

He didn't look at Madam Bishop. His eyes went straight to the sofa, where the vibrant, defiant woman he loved was reduced to a shivering shell. Seeing the bruises on her knees and the vacant look in her eyes, Donovan’s hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white.

Madam Bishop collapsed into Old Mrs. Tang’s arms, weeping. "She's lost, Beatrice. My Chloe is lost. She asked me if I’ve seen a ghost..."

"Hush now," Old Mrs. Tang said, her voice a calm anchor in the storm. She patted Madam Bishop’s hand and walked toward Chloe.

Donovan stood back, his shadow falling over the room like a dark wing. He looked at the girl who once stood up to her father for a bonsai tree, and he felt a cold, murderous resolve take root in his chest.

Xavier Grayson hadn't just broken a contract; he had attempted to break a soul. And in the Tang family's book, that was a debt that could only be paid in blood.

Should Old Mrs. Tang attempt to "wake" Chloe through a traditional ritual, or should Donovan Tang leave immediately to hunt down Xavier for a reckoning?