Betrayed By The Billionaire

288

After ending the call with Dr. Julian Vance, Xavier Grayson leaned back against the plush leather of the Rolls-Royce. A rare, languid ease settled over his features; the cold, tectonic lines of his face had softened into something almost approachable. He was a man savoring a victory he hadn't yet fully claimed, his thoughts lingering on the defiant, beautiful woman waiting for him at the estate.

"The Master has returned!"

The word rippled through the security detail. Vince received the alert from the gatehouse and immediately marshaled the staff. Despite the "haunted" rumors and the yellow talisman still stuck to the basement door, the presence of the "Demon CEO" demanded absolute discipline.

Moments later, the car pulled into the sweeping driveway. Xavier’s long, tailored legs emerged first, followed by that impeccable, lethal visage. He radiated a natural, crushing authority that made the surrounding staff feel instinctively small.

Vince hurried forward, his voice tight. "Master..."

Before the butler could finish, Xavier shrugged off his overcoat and tossed it onto Vince’s arm without looking. He didn't slow down, his stride purposeful and predatory as he headed straight for the main drawing room.

He burst into the hall, expecting to find the Bishop elders and a house full of life. Instead, the room was a void of silence. He stopped, his brow furrowing as he scanned the empty space.

"Where is everyone?"

Vince stepped cautiously behind him, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Master... are you asking about the Young Mistress?"

"Who else would I be asking about in my own home?" Xavier’s voice was calm—dangerously so. His mood was still buoyed by the morning's anticipation.

"Madam Bishop has returned to the West Side," Vince whispered.

Xavier was halfway to the kitchen, intending to check the lunch progress, when he froze. He pivoted, his gaze turning into two shards of black ice. "When? Why?"

"They were only here for a short time," Vince replied, his head bowed. "The Elder Mrs. Bishop took her back about forty-five minutes ago."

The atmosphere in the room plummeted into a deep freeze. Xavier’s face darkened instantly, his jaw locking. Sensing the impending storm, Vince scrambled to explain: "She was... she was unconscious when they carried her out, Master."

Unconscious?

The word sent a sharp, involuntary jolt through Xavier’s chest. She was fine this morning, he thought, his mind racing through the night they had shared. She hadn't fainted then, despite the intensity of their "reconciliation."

"What exactly happened?"

Vince hurriedly recounted the events of the morning—the basement tour, the scream in the wine cellar, and the "haunting" that had terrified the staff.

Xavier’s reaction was an explosion of pure, vitriolic fury. "Absurd! Utterly ridiculous!"

"Master," Vince pleaded, "the Young Mistress truly seemed... possessed. She must have seen something 'unclean.' Why else would she be terrified to that degree?"

Xavier stepped into the butler’s personal space, his aura suffocating. "And did you see it? Did you see this 'thing' that was so terrifying?"

Vince faltered. "I... I did not, but—"

"I have slept in that basement for several nights," Xavier hissed, his voice a low, terrifying vibration. "I have seen nothing. And you stand here telling me 'but'?"

"Then... does the Master wish for me to prepare the car? Should we go and bring the Young Mistress back?"

Xavier’s pride, wounded by her sudden flight and her family’s "superstitious" interference, flared into a cold, jagged wall. "If she wants to leave so badly, let her stay gone. She doesn't need to come back at all!"

He turned his back on the butler, his silhouette a testament to an arrogant, lonely power. Vince could only watch him go, sighing with a heavy sense of disappointment.

The Silent Protest

Lunch was a grim affair. Xavier sat at the head of the long mahogany table, with Liam Jr. opposite him. The boy refused to even touch his spoon. He sat with his small arms crossed, his large, dark eyes—so much like his father's—glaring at Xavier with enough heat to melt the silverware.

Xavier set his chopsticks down with a sharp clack. "If you keep staring at me like that, you can forget about dinner as well."

Liam Jr. didn't flinch. His round, pale face was puffed with indignation. He snatched up his writing board and scrawled a line of characters with aggressive speed: GO GET CHLOE BACK.

"No," Xavier replied, his voice flat and final. "And don't ever let me see those words again."

Liam Jr.’s face turned a bright, angry pink. He wiped the board and wrote again: IF YOU WON'T GO, I WILL.

Before Xavier could react, the boy threw the board onto the table, hopped down from his chair, and bolted for the front door.

He didn't get far. A pair of guards caught the small, struggling heir before he could reach the foyer and carried him back into the dining room. Liam Jr. couldn't scream, but his silent, thrashing rage was directed entirely at his father.

"Take the Young Master to his room," Xavier commanded, his voice devoid of warmth. "He is not to step a single foot out of that door until further notice."

The guards carried the boy upstairs, leaving the dining room in a hollow, echoing silence. Finally, the "Demon CEO" was alone. He picked up his chopsticks again, but after two bites, the food tasted like ash. He dropped the utensils with a look of profound boredom and irritation.

"Vince."

The butler stepped forward immediately. "Master."

Xavier has locked his son in his room and forbidden his wife’s name, but the house feels emptier than ever. As the "Demon CEO" stares at the empty chair beside him, will his pride hold out for another forty-eight hours, or will the "haunted" basement force him to finally confront the fact that he cannot control the woman he claims to loathe?