Betrayed By The Billionaire

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After Madam Bishop left the room, Chloe reached under her pillow and pulled out the yellow paper. Realizing it was a spiritual talisman, a flash of primal terror flickered in her eyes, quickly followed by a profound sense of confusion.

The thought of returning to the Grayson Estate was a physical weight on her chest—a recurring nightmare she couldn't wake from. After the cold-blooded cruelty Xavier had shown her, she couldn't simply "reset." She couldn't perform the role of the submissive wife, nor could she imagine sharing a bed with the man who had buried her in the dark.

How do I end this marriage?

A wave of bitter regret washed over her. She thought back to that day in her father’s office when Xavier had given her a choice—to walk away or stay. She had lacked the courage then, tethered by duty and fear for the Bishop Group’s future. Now, that lack of courage felt like a death sentence.

The Unyielding Guest

Madam Bishop descended the stairs, fully expecting the "Demon CEO" to have vanished into the night. Instead, she found Xavier Grayson sitting in the living room, his powerful aura filling the space like a gathering storm.

Even Vince was surprised. Usually, when Xavier was this furious, he would have slammed the door and sped away. Instead, he had paced the foyer for a few seconds before dropping onto the sofa with a glacial expression.

Madam Bishop offered a polite, strained smile and signaled the maids to bring a fruit platter and a pot of high-grade tea. "Vince, I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything," she said, before retreating to supervise dinner.

Vince poured a cup of tea for Xavier, noting that the lethal tension in his master's shoulders had eased—if only by a fraction. "Sir," Vince ventured cautiously, "should I have the young master brought over for a few days?"

Xavier cut him a sharp look. "No. Bring him tomorrow for the celebration."

"Then... shall I have some fresh clothes sent over for you?"

"The ones from my last stay are still here."

Vince hid a smile. Xavier wasn't just visiting; he was moving in for the duration of the crisis.

Xavier sat in silence, a dull, suffocating frustration burning in his chest. He didn't fully understand why he was staying. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw that single, crystalline tear tracking down Chloe’s face—a look of utter desolation and disappointment that made her look like a guttering candle.

This wasn't the arrogant, spirited Chloe Bishop he knew. He had to see for himself if she was truly "compromised" as Vince suggested, or if this was the most elaborate performance of her life.

The Command

A while later, Madam Bishop emerged from the kitchen. Seeing Xavier still rooted to the sofa, she called out, "Xavier, dinner is almost ready. Go upstairs and bring Chloe down to eat."

Without waiting for an answer, she hurried back into the kitchen, not daring to witness his reaction.

Xavier flicked his dark eyes toward Vince. "Well? Go on."

Vince cleared his throat, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Sir, Madam Bishop was speaking to you."

If you’ve decided to soften your heart, Sir, you have to show it, Vince thought silently.

Xavier shot him a glare that could have withered stone, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees. Finally, he stood up and stalked toward the staircase.

The Encounter in the Bedroom

Xavier pushed open the door to Chloe’s room without knocking.

Chloe had just finished a hot shower to try and scrub the phantom chill of the dungeon from her skin. Seeing Xavier’s handsome, familiar face in the doorway, her expression instantly darkened.

I thought he left. Why is he still here?

Xavier’s gaze swept over her. She was wrapped in a simple white bathrobe, her hair damp and clinging to her neck. He frowned, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind him.

Chloe stared at him for a heartbeat, then made a deliberate choice: she would treat him like a ghost. She turned away, pulled a dress from her wardrobe, and began to change right in front of him, dropping the bathrobe without a shred of her usual modesty or hesitation.

Xavier’s pupils dilated. What is she playing at? In the past, she was always guarded, her movements stiff with a perceived sense of "propriety" or fear. This blunt, cold indifference was new.

As Chloe reached for a floral tea dress, Xavier’s hand shot out. He caught her wrist and forced her down onto the edge of the bed. He didn't look at her face; his eyes were fixed on her knees, where the dark, jagged purple of the bruising stood out in horrific contrast to her porcelain skin.

"What happened here?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Xavier is finally seeing the physical evidence of the night he ordered. While he seeks a logical explanation, Chloe’s silence is a louder accusation than any scream. The celebration is tomorrow, but the war inside the Bishop Manor is just beginning.

Will Chloe tell him the truth about the "terrors" she saw in the dark, or will she let the mystery of her bruises drive Xavier into a new kind of madness?

Should Chloe reveal the psychological trauma she experienced, or continue the "silent treatment" to see how long Xavier can stand her indifference?