Betrayed By The Billionaire

166

The heavy silence of the room was broken once again by the sharp trill of the phone. This time, a string of unfamiliar digits flickered on the screen.

Chloe let it ring for several seconds, her heart hammering against her ribs, before she finally pressed the icon. "Hello?"

"It’s me."

The voice on the other end was like a ghost reaching out from a shallow grave. It was Liam Martin.

In that instant, Chloe felt her entire body seize up. Her muscles turned to stone, and her throat constricted so tightly that she couldn't find her voice. His tone—gentle, warm, and achingly familiar—dragged her back to the humiliation of that wedding day. It had been less than a month, yet hearing him made that public abandonment feel like an ancient, jagged memory from another life.

At that moment, Liam was standing on the 68th floor of a glass skyscraper, overlooking the glittering sprawl of the city below. "Chloe," he said softly, his voice echoing with a** (noble) elegance. "The Hans are in town. They’ve asked about you several times. They truly want to see you again."

The silence on Chloe’s end stretched into an eternity.

"Don't worry," Liam added quickly, sensing her hesitation. "It’s just a casual dinner. It won't take long, and I won't cause any trouble for you."

"..."

"They already know we’ve broken up, so you don't have to worry about maintaining any pretenses."

"..."

"Chloe? Please, say something."

It took another long minute before that familiar voice finally reached him, but it was stripped of the adoration he remembered. It was cold, distant, and professional.

"Don't worry. I'll be there."

But this time, she thought bitterly, it won't be because of you.

The moment she gave her answer, Liam recited the location to her. Chloe didn't offer a polite goodbye or a single word of small talk; she simply cut the connection.

On the 68th floor, Liam held the phone to his ear long after the line had gone dead. When he finally lowered his hand, he realized the device was slick with moisture—the cold sweat from his own palms. He had never imagined a day would come when a simple phone call to Chloe Bishop would leave him trembling with nervous anticipation.

"She said she’s coming," he whispered to the empty room. A genuine, boyish smile spread across his face, mirrored in the floor-to-ceiling windows. But as he reached out to touch his own reflection, the smile slowly froze, then withered. He saw the excitement in his own eyes and realized, with a sinking heart, just how much he was still affected by her.

Meanwhile, three minutes after hanging up, Chloe rose from the bed. She moved with a new, quiet purpose, walking toward the bathroom.

An hour later, she stood before the vanity and clicked her lipstick shut. She stared at the woman in the mirror—polished, radiant, and armor-plated in high fashion. She decided that overthinking was a poison. Why torment herself with "what-ifs"? The past was an unchangeable weight; the only way forward was to move with the current.

As for Xavier’s inevitable rage... she would find a way to soothe the beast when the time came.

She sent a brief text to Xavier: I'm ready. Leaving the estate now. There was no reply.

Chloe took a deep, stabilizing breath, grabbed her clutch, and walked out the door.

At 6:50 PM, her car pulled into the gates of an ultra-high-end private club. The architecture was modeled after the classical gardens of Suzhou—elegant, serene, and looking like a landscape painting brought to life. After parking, she sent one more message: I've arrived. Where are you?

This time, the response was instantaneous and brief: Come in.

The Evening Encounter

Chloe stepped out of the car, her heels clicking against the stone path. She followed the attendant through a series of moon gates and winding corridors, the scent of blooming jasmine filling the air. This place was the pinnacle of exclusivity, a sanctuary where the city's elite conducted their most sensitive business.

As she turned the final corner toward the private pavilion, she saw the security detail. Xavier's men stood on the left, their expressions like granite. On the right stood Liam Martin’s guards, equally imposing. The two groups created a silent, hostile corridor through which she had to pass.

The tension in the air was thick enough to be felt on the skin. Inside that pavilion sat the two men who defined her past and her present—the man who had discarded her heart, and the man who currently held her world in his palm.

Chloe smoothed her skirt, lifted her chin to that "First Socialite" angle, and stepped into the room.

The dinner is about to begin. With the Han-Sin couple acting as the bridge, Chloe must perform a delicate dance between Xavier’s cold possessiveness and Liam’s lingering regret. As they sit down at the circular table, every glance will be a weapon. Will Chloe be able to maintain her "perfect wife" mask, or will the proximity of her ex-fiancé cause Xavier to drop his own mask of indifference?

How do you think Xavier will react the moment Chloe enters the room and he sees her fully dressed up for the first time since their argument?