Betrayed By The Billionaire

254

The bruise on Chloe Bishop’s knee was a violent, jagged stain against her alabaster skin—like a drop of black ink splattered across the finest white jade. It was a sight that demanded pity, yet Chloe’s expression remained as cold and distant as a winter moon.

She pulled the hem of her floral dress down, smoothing the fabric with trembling fingers. "It’s just a fall," she said, her voice airy and detached. "I’m not dead yet."

Xavier’s eyes narrowed at her indifference. "Your mother says you suffered a 'shock.' From where I’m standing, you seem perfectly composed."

Chloe’s gaze slowly drifted from the window to Xavier’s face. She studied him with an intensity that bordered on predatory, searching for a crack in his armor, a flicker of guilt, or a tell-tale sign of deception. "The things beneath that cellar... do you truly not know what’s down there?"

Xavier didn't flinch. "What exactly are you implying is down there?"

Chloe searched for a shadow of a lie, but she found nothing. Either he was a master of psychological warfare, or he truly believed the dungeon was nothing more than stone and iron. She let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. "Of course. You’ve never been the one locked inside. How could you possibly know?"

Xavier didn't rise to her sarcasm. Instead, his voice dropped an octave, turning clinical. "Then tell me. What did you see in the dark?"

The Shadow of the Lady in White

The question hit Chloe like a physical blow. The image of the mangled, blood-streaked face from her nightmare flashed behind her eyes. Her skin turned a ghostly grey in an instant, her body locking into a state of rigid, suffocating terror. Her fingers clawed into the fabric of her dress, her knuckles turning white.

She still didn't know if it was a hallucination born of trauma or a haunting reality. If it was a trick of the mind, it was too vivid; if it was real, it defied every law of logic she knew.

Xavier watched her transformation. He knew that while words and gestures could be rehearsed, the human circulatory system did not lie. A person faking shyness could not force a blush, and a person faking terror could not drain the blood from their face and lips with such violent speed.

She wasn't performing. Something had truly broken her spirit in those few hours of darkness. Was it a psychological collapse, a cruel prank by the staff, or was there weight to the superstitions he had spent his life mocking?

Seeing her tremble as if she were standing on the edge of an abyss, Xavier felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to anchor her. He reached out to take her hand.

But the moment his skin touched hers, Chloe recoiled with a violence that startled him. Her eyes, wide and bloodshot, were filled with a toxic mixture of fear and pure, unadulterated loathing.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, her voice cracking. "I'm filthy."

Xavier’s patience, already thin, finally snapped. "Chloe Bishop!"

The Brutal Truth

Chloe stared at him, her lips trembling. "Did they not tell you? I was so terrified in that hole that I lost control. I soiled myself, Xavier."

Xavier froze. His sharp, lethal gaze searched her eyes, trying to gauge the truth of her words. No one—not Vince, not the maids—had dared to mention the specifics of her breakdown to him.

Chloe took a deep, shuddering breath, her self-deprecation turning into a weapon. "So, you’d best stay away. Unless you want the scent of filth and 'promiscuity' all over your expensive suit."

"Chloe!" Xavier’s voice was a low roar, a warning of the violence he was suppressing. "Say one more word like that, and I will destroy you."

Chloe smiled, but there was no light in it. "Why? Isn't that what I am? A vain, greedy woman who craves the attention of every man in the city? A woman who wants everyone to worship at her feet, to serve her every... single... desire..."

Before she could finish the sentence, Xavier’s mouth crashed onto hers. It wasn't a kiss of affection; it was an act of conquest, harsh and punishing, intended to silence the poison coming from her lips.

Chloe’s hands reflexively pushed against his chest, but after a single second, the resistance vanished. She didn't fight him, but she didn't respond either. She simply went limp, her eyes turning hollow and vacant, like a porcelain doll whose soul had finally been extinguished.

Xavier has broken the silence, but in doing so, he has encountered a version of Chloe he doesn't know how to handle. The "First Socialite" is gone, replaced by a hollow shell that no longer fears his threats. Tomorrow is the celebration of her niece, but the woman attending might be a ghost of the girl Xavier married.

Will Xavier realize that his "lesson" has cost him the very essence of the woman he was trying to possess, or will he view her catatonia as just another form of defiance?

Should Xavier be the one to find the talisman under her pillow and realize someone has been "treating" her for trauma, or should the scene shift to dinner where the Bishop family notices her change in personality?