The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Xavier’s body twisted in the silken sheets, a turmoil that mirrored the chaos churning within. The moonlight bathed the room in an eerie glow, casting shadows that danced with his mounting regrets. His gaze fixed on Cathleen, her delicate form shrouded by the darkness of their bedroom and the weight of his transgressions. A single tear escaped her closed eyelids, tracing a path down her cheek-a silent testament to the pain she harbored even in slumber.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, the coarse whisper barely disturbing the oppressive stillness. With a gentleness that belied his usual dominance, Xavier reached out, his index finger tenderly brushing away the moisture from her skin. He watched, rapt, as each breath she took lifted her chest in a rhythm that seemed too serene for one so wounded by his hand.

Restlessness clawed at him, urging him to stand upright. He slipped from the bed, muscles coiling, and every step away from her was a reluctant retreat. He snatched his phone from the nightstand, thumbing through contacts until Caleb’s name appeared. The clock’s red digits burned at 2:03 AM-a silent admonition for the untimely intrusion he was about to commit.

Caleb’s voice crackled to life, tinged with sleep and surprise. “You do realize that it’s late at night, right?”

“I can’t fucking sleep,” Xavier snapped, pacing the length of the room like a caged beast. “I’ve done nothing but hurt her since we tied the knot. I granted her the goddamn divorce papers with a condition, but fuck if I married her just to watch her walk away.”

“Maybe you should let her go,” Caleb ventured, caution laced with every word. “Stress isn’t good for her right now.”

“Let her go?” Xavier growled. “She loves me, Caleb. She loves me, despite the hell I’ve dragged her through. She’s got nobody else; she hates her own blood more than she could ever hate mine. And I fucked up the one thing she clung to-me.”

“Xavier…”

“Shut it.” Xavier cut him off, a snarl curling his lip. “I won’t lose her, not when she’s all alone in this shitstorm I created.” His fist clenched, knuckles whitening-a physical manifestation of his internal battle. “I need to fix this, Caleb. Fix us.”

Xavier’s knuckles were white as he gripped the phone, and his voice was a low growl tinged with frustration and disbelief. “Were you sleeping with them both at the same time?” Caleb’s question hung in the air like an accusation, heavy and unwelcome.

“No.” Xavier spat out the word, each syllable laced with venomous honesty. “Since Cat and I… since we tried again, Olivia hasn’t been more than a damn ghost to me. I told you to cut her off. That child-if there even is one-it isn’t mine.”

“Alright, boss,” Caleb finally said, resignation coloring his tone. “What do you need me to do?”Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Nothing,” Xavier breathed, a finality in his voice that left no room for argument. “I just needed someone to fucking listen. Get me, Doctor West,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for debate. “That man may despise me, but he’ll keep Cathleen safe. And he’s going to prove that Olivia’s playing games. I need facts, Caleb, not her twisted fantasies.”

“Sure thing, boss. Always here, Xavier. Even at ungodly hours.” Caleb says. Caleb’s voice was steady, unshaken by the storm brewing on the other end of the line.

The silence that hung between them was taut, charged with unspoken understanding. Caleb knew the stakes-the twisted love that bound Xavier to Cathleen-a bond as volatile as it was vital.

“Goodnight, Caleb.” Xavier ended the call and tossed the phone aside, his gaze returning to the vulnerable figure huddled under the covers. Cathleen’s cheeks glistened, trails of dried salt marking her skin, and Xavier felt a pang of guilt sharp enough to draw blood from his stone-cold heart.

“I’m sorry, Cat,” he whispered, his voice barely audible above the murmur of the night. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.” His fingers brushed against her cheek, sensing the dampness of fresh tears. The weight of his sins pressed down on him, heavier than the darkness that shrouded the room.

Xavier leaned in, his lips hovering over hers, tasting the sorrow he had inflicted on her. In that moment, he took a silent oath, a promise carved into the very marrow of his bones. “I won’t let you go, Cat. Not now, not ever.”

She stirred, a soft sigh escaping her as she remained lost in a restless slumber, unaware of the chaos her husband was battling just inches away. Xavier’s heart clenched-a mixture of remorse and something fiercer, something that refused to be named.

“Trust me, it will be different,” he murmured against her mouth, sealing his vow with a kiss that held all the tenderness he had withheld and all the passion he had denied. “I was blind, but I see you now, Cat. And I’ll spend every fucking breath proving it to you.”

The night was still around them, a quiet witness to the turmoil and redemption unfolding within the walls of their bedroom. Xavier watched over Cathleen, a guardian of his own making, vowing to shield her from further pain-from the world, from himself-no matter the cost.

Xavier’s arms enveloped Cathleen, his embrace a fortress in the tempest of regret that raged within him. With her warmth seeping into his bones, he allowed the clutches of sleep to claim him, surrendering to the night’s oblivious solace.

Dawn broke with a sliver of light slicing through the curtains, casting lines of judgment across the room. Xavier rose-a man haunted by the shadows of his own mistakes. The hot needles in the shower did little to wash away the stain of his transgressions. Wrapping himself in a towel, his movements were mechanical as he prepared a bath for Cathleen-her silence during their mundane ritual spoke volumes of the chasm between them.

He dressed her with care, each article of clothing a silent apology for the words he could not form. Slowly making his way down the grand staircase, Xavier’s ears were bombarded by the shrill cacophony of entitled voices. Each step seemed to bring him closer to the source of the noise, and he could feel his head begin to throb with irritation. The high-pitched chatter and demands filled the air like an unrelenting storm, drowning out any other sounds in the room. Despite his efforts to block it out, he couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed.

Olivia stood amidst the workers, her voice a whip lashing out with every imperious demand. “This is my house, and I don’t want anyone questioning what I eat. Hey, you, take my bags to mine and Xavier’s room,” she commanded, her hand gesturing with the arrogance only ignorance could breed.

Xavier’s entrance was a stormfront, his presence filling the foyer with a chilling aura. “You will do no such thing!” His voice thundered a crack of authority against Olivia’s delusions.

She spun around, her eyes flashing with the challenge. “Why not? I am having your child; I will sleep in your room,” she spat, venom dripping from every syllable.

“Your room? My heir?” Xavier’s laugh was ice, sharp enough to cut. “I am married, and my wife alone shares my bed. That baby? It’s not mine until proven.”

But Olivia was relentless, thrusting papers at him. “There is no need for proof. Here, you are the father, Xavier I am the one pregnant here, not your wife, I doubt she will be able to give you an heir. So I am staying!” she declared, her triumph premature.

“Miss,” he snarled, the paper crumpling in his grasp, “my doctor will determine the truth. Now get out of my house.” His command was a death knell for her fantasies.

As Olivia reeled, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Cathleen-pregnant, shock etched upon her face, eyes wide with revelations she had never anticipated. Her very being radiated disbelief, and in that moment, Xavier knew the battle for trust and redemption had only just begun.