The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Xavier sat in the cool, dim light of his office, the weight of solitude pressing against him like a physical force. It was suffocating, this silence-a month since Cathleen’s voice had pierced through it, a month since their bodies had spoken the primal language they both understood so well.

“Sir, there has been a package delivered for you at the reception.” Caleb’s voice sliced through his brooding, an unwelcome interruption.

“Open it,” Xavier commanded without looking up, his fingers curling before him.

The crisp sound of tearing paper cut through the room as Caleb complied. A momentary pause, then, “Sir, it’s from madam.”

In an instant, Xavier was on his feet, the chair clattering behind him. He snatched the envelope with a predatory swiftness that belied his usual composed demeanor. His heart hammered-anxious, expectant-as he tore into the missive.

Divorce papers.

A smirk twisted his lips, though his eyes were cold as steel. “She knows where I work, and I don’t know shit about her, and she serves me this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper yet laced with venom.

Caleb stood motionless, the air thick with tension. Xavier’s gaze remained fixated on the papers, each word a declaration of war. He could feel the challenge rising within him-a dark and dangerous thrill.

“She wants out?” He mused aloud, his words sharp as shards of glass. “She’ll learn. She’s mine to release, not the other way around.”

His mind raced with punitive fantasies, the thought of taming Cathleen’s rebellious spirit igniting a fire within him. The papers crinkled in his tightening grip; the promise of retribution was sweet upon his tongue.

“You may leave, Caleb,” Xavier said, his tone final.

He was left alone once more, the silence now filled with the siren call of the impending storm. There would be no surrender-only conquest. And Cathleen would learn the hard way.

Xavier’s movements were deliberate as he settled back into the leather embrace of his office chair, the gravity of the moment rooting him to the spot. Caleb hovered nearby, a silent sentinel of concern, itching to inquire yet bound by the unspoken rule of discretion. Wordlessly, he watched Xavier’s face, etched with lines of fury and control-a mask that warned against any unwelcome curiosity.

“Sir, is there anything you want me to do for you?” Caleb ventured each word measured cautiously.

“Tell my father to call Cathleen and arrange dinner with her,” Xavier commanded, his voice cool and detached.

Caleb nodded, understanding the undercurrents of power at play, and retreated from the lion’s den.

Left alone, Xavier allowed himself a smirk. His father had always been the fulcrum upon which their domestic balance teetered. Cathleen’s affection for the old man was her Achilles’ heel, and Xavier knew how to exploit it with surgical precision.

The screen of his phone lit up, breaking the oppressive silence-a message from his father confirming the next day’s dinner. Xavier’s lips curled into a smile that didn’t quite reach his wintry eyes. He had not sought the warmth of another since Cathleen; his body was a temple reserved only for her-an altar at which he intended to worship with devout fervor. Why was she wanting a divorce when he never cheated on her?

Olivia’s persistent calls went unanswered, her siren song falling on deaf ears. He was committed to the sanctity of what he and Cathleen shared, but why did she ever think he would let her go? He gave up everything for her; not even Olivia could make his cock perk one beat. It has been her and her alone, but now she wants out.

Glancing at the divorce papers once more, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. “You deserve to be punished for this, Cat,” he murmured, the words laced with dark promise.

He rose, shrugging into his suit jacket with an air of determination. The office around him felt like a cage, too small to contain the storm brewing within. He needed space and freedom-the thrill of the hunt. And Cathleen, his elusive prey, would soon learn the cost of defiance.

Tonight, he would bide his time. But tomorrow, when she sat across from him at dinner, he would begin to unravel her, thread by delicate thread. There would be no sanctuary for her, no mercy in his hands. She would be his to command-to break and rebuild in his image.

Xavier stepped out of his office, the door closing with a click that echoed the finality of his resolve. The game was set, and he was a master at play.

The clock struck one, its chime echoing through the empty corridors of Xavier Knight’s mansion. Cathleen’s call was as calculated as her courtroom strategies, ensuring precision in her timing. The line trilled, and the answer came swiftly from the helpers-Xavier was not home. She just wanted to be sure he wasn’t home before she entered the lion’s den. She wouldn’t risk making her secret known. At first, she thought people were just joking, but now there was no way of hiding it, and there was no way she would let Xavier, or one of his family members, know before the divorce. So she thought of the helpers; if they saw her, they might tell people, so she asked them to leave.

“Take the rest of the day,” she instructed firmly, her tone brooking no argument. The house emptied at her command, leaving behind a silence that thrummed with the weight of unspoken secrets.

Cathleen entered the matrimonial home like a ghost, her presence unseen but palpable. Her movements were calculated and purposeful as she glided through the kitchen, her skilled fingers dancing over cutting boards and pots and pans to prepare a meal. When she was done, she set the table like a scene from Martha Stewart magazine, each dish carefully arranged to convey an artful display of domesticity.

The family arrived, ushering in laughter and conversation that filled the void Cathleen had left. Xavier strode in, his eyes catching the flutter of paper on the table. He scooped it up, the smirk on his face as sharp as a knife’s edge. “Hi, babe, I have to fly out. I have an important meeting to attend. Sorry, it’s short notice. I love you.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

Mockery laced his words as he read aloud, the note serving as a poor substitute for the woman who evaded him. He passed the paper to Old Mr. Knight, whose smile was tinged with fondness. “Well, at least my daughter-in-law cooked for us,” he mused, oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.

Seated among his kin, Xavier’s mind seethed with cold fury. Cathleen’s move was bold and daring-a direct challenge to his domain. His father’s ignorance of the impending divorce gnawed at him like a bitter pill coated in betrayal. No, he would not sign those papers. Not without dragging the truth from Cathleen’s lips and forcing her to confess her sins. What is it that she did or that I did that would make her serve me that piece of trash? Xavier thought.

“Enjoy the meal,” he offered to the table, each word a shard of ice. “It’s the last taste of submission we’ll get from her.”

The family dined, unaware of the undercurrents between husband and wife-a dance of power and defiance only they knew the steps to. As night fell and the house grew quiet once more, Xavier’s resolve hardened like steel.

“Cat,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice a dangerous purr. “I will strip you bare of your secrets. And when I’m done, you’ll beg me for mercy you won’t receive.”