Betrayed By The Billionaire

165

Liam Martin didn't want the Han-Sin couple to see the raw bitterness and regret swirling behind his calm exterior. He lowered his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. "I am deeply sorry."

Mr. Han watched him for a moment before shaking his head slowly. "Liam, you don't need to apologize to us. While I don't know the specifics of why you two parted ways, I feel compelled to say one thing: Chloe is a rare, good woman. You shouldn't have let her go."

Mrs. Han nodded fervently in agreement. "He’s right. Don't give up on her so easily. I could see it clearly back in Seoul—that girl loved you with her entire soul. When she looked at you, her eyes sparkled with a light so bright it was as if they were glowing."

Listening to their words, Liam felt a sharp, suffocating constriction in his throat. A dull, heavy ache blossomed in his chest. He knew she loved him. He had always known. He hadn't wanted to lose her either, but reality was a cruel master. It was too late—everything was too late. She was already married; she was another man's wife now.

Beyond that, he couldn't simply abandon Snow. That woman had suffered far too much because of him; he couldn't bear to wrong her any further, even if it meant losing the light in Chloe’s eyes forever.

Seeing Liam lapse into a troubled silence, the Hans felt a profound sense of disappointment. After a long pause, Mrs. Han spoke up again. "Regardless of your status, my husband and I truly wish to see her one last time before we leave. We hope you can fulfill this request for us."

Liam’s eyes flickered, a faint, desperate spark of hope momentarily piercing through the gloom. "I will do my very best."

Mrs. Han nodded, satisfied for the moment. Internally, she secretly hoped that this young man wouldn't waste this chance and might actually find a way to reconcile with Chloe.

Meanwhile, back at the Grayson estate, Chloe Bishop found it impossible to find any peace of mind. Every fiber of her being screamed against attending the banquet tonight. She dreaded the idea of sitting at the same table as Liam Martin again.

The Hans had witnessed her and Liam at the height of their romance. They had seen the "glow" Mrs. Han spoke of. On the other side was Xavier Grayson, a man who was pathologically sensitive about her past. He was constantly on guard, terrified that her heart or body remained unfaithful, as if she were waiting for the first opportunity to disgrace him. To Chloe, tonight’s dinner felt less like a social engagement and more like a slow walk toward a public execution.

No matter how perfectly she behaved, she knew Xavier would find a flaw. He would pick apart her glances, her tone, and her silences. She didn't want to go—not even a little bit.

Yet, she lacked the courage to call Xavier and back out. If she declined, he would undoubtedly interpret it as a sign of guilt. He would conclude that she was afraid to face Liam because she still harbored feelings for him. It was a classic "no-win" scenario. Every path she chose led to a mistake in his eyes.

In her desperation, Chloe caught herself wishing she would suddenly fall ill with a high fever or lose consciousness—anything to escape the looming confrontation.

Around five o'clock in the afternoon, the dreaded ringtone of her phone shattered the silence of the bedroom. Chloe was caught off guard, lying flat on her back on the bed, trying to pretend the world didn't exist. When she saw Xavier’s name on the screen, she bolted upright like a startled fish. After a long moment of agonizing hesitation, she resigned herself to her fate and answered. After all, the blow was coming whether she moved or not.

"Hello..." she said, her voice small.

Xavier didn't offer a greeting; he spoke only to deliver a command. "The dinner is at seven. Get yourself ready."

Chloe gripped the silk bedsheets tightly beneath her. "Will you... will you be coming back to pick me up?"

"I don't have time," Xavier replied coldly, and the line went dead before she could say another word.

Chloe tossed the phone onto the mattress and made a face, mimicking his icy tone under her breath. "I don't have time." Then, she collapsed back onto the bed in a fit of dejection.

Now came the impossible dilemma: What should she wear? Should she even bother with makeup?

Based on her recent experience with Xavier's volatile temperament, she knew she was trapped. If she didn't dress up, he would accuse her of playing the "pitiful victim" in front of Liam to gain sympathy. But if she took the time to look her best, he would almost certainly sneer that she was only beautifying herself to impress her ex-fiancé.

Chloe rolled back and forth on the bed, her head throbbing with a dull, persistent ache. Every choice was a trap, and the clock was ticking.

Chloe is caught in a psychological minefield where her appearance is a weapon that can be turned against her regardless of what she chooses. As she stands before her vanity, trying to decide between "plain" and "polished," she realizes that tonight isn't about business or friendship—it's a test of her survival as Xavier's wife. Will she find a middle ground that satisfies the "Demon," or is she walking into a social ambush designed to break her spirit once and for all?