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Chapter Eight – Enemies at First Sight.
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2025-05-28 00:28:42
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I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty-Three: The Offer
Silence hits the room like a wall. My chest heaves. My arms shake. My face burns so hot, I think it’s melting my makeup that I have on. I stare at him, and he stares back, calm yet amused, as if he’s enjoying every second of my fury. Then he bursts up laughing. A real, full-blown laugh that shakes his shoulders as he throws his head backwards. He coughs and grabs his water to gulp it down, calming his hysteric and amused laughter. “You,” he says between laughs, “are exactly what this family needs. If only Sienna learned from you.” I blink, confused as I stare at him like he has lost his damned mind. He straightens and leans back, eyes glinting with mischief. “But don’t mistake my admiration for leniency, Scarlett. I like your fire. I like how upfront you are. But remember exactly who you’re talking to. One wrong step, one wrong word, and all the people you care about… even the ones closest to you… could be at my mercy.” I narrow my eyes and lean forward, my palms planted to h
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty Two: Tell Me Who You Are
Scarlets POV:I can barely breathe. My chest feels tight, like someone pressed it with a vice. My hands are sweaty and shaking. My legs feel like they’re about to give out under me. I stare at Grandfather like he just threw a hand grenade into my life. My mind is screaming and my heart is pounding like creamy, it loud in my own ears.He knows. He knows. He knows. It keeps repeating in my head like a loud broken bell. He knows I’m not Sienna. He knows everything. I can feel it in the way his eyes lock onto me, like he’s looking right through me. How long has he known? How long has he been watching me, waiting for me to slip up? I never believed I would be caught on day one. It’s not even a full twenty four hours yet and my entire fake identity is hanging by a thin thread that feels ready to snap.I try to keep my voice steady and force my lips to move.“How do you know about Scarlet, my twin sister?” My voice cracks and I want to slap myself. I hate how small it sounds. I hate how
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty-One: Lucian
Lucian's POVI never believe in love. It was a fabricated concept, created to fuel the delusions of people who have nothing better to do than chase feelings they can’t even define. That belief has been passed down through the Montgomery line like some sacred family recipe. My Great-grandfather preached it. My grandfather shaped it. Father was supposed to sharpen it and carry it with pride.But no. The old fool had to turn into one of those sentimental imbeciles he used to mock. All because he fell for my mother. A woman with zero background, zero connections, zero pedigree. She worked in a kindergarten. She taught toddlers to hold crayons and tie shoelaces. And somehow, whatever witchcraft she possessed dragged my father down and so deep into the warm, fuzzy pit he once swore he’d never enter.With there Adultery shaped in the passion of love, that was how I was born. Their little love-child miracle. The bastard l.Grandfather hated the whole thing. He saw emotion as an incurable dis
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty: Stop pretending
The second I heard his voice, my blood turned to ice.Grandfather stood with his cane resting against the marble floor. His face was a blank slate as his eyes flicked between me and Lucian. That damn unreadable Montgomery stare that made my skin itch.How long has he been standing there? Did he hear us? Did he hear everything?My pulse roared in my ears. I could feel Lucian beside me, his body tensed like a coiled spring, ready to snap. The air between us was thick enough to choke on.Grandfather didn’t rush. He never did. He was as calm as ever, like he hadn’t just caught us in the middle of a full-blown crisis.“Sienna,” he said, smooth as aged whiskey. “A word.”My stomach dropped.I shot a glance at Lucian. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack. “We were just leaving, Grandfather,” Lucian cut in, his voice as sharp as his stare.I could feel the weight of his glare, the way his body tensed beside me. “She’s not feeling too well.”Grandfather didn’t blin
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Forty-Nine: Claims
I walk toward the door, my heels clicking softly against the marble floor, each step echoing like a countdown in my head. A countdown till I high tail it and run.My chest is still tight from the dinner. From Catherine. From the lie I shoved down everyone’s throats. My palms are damp. My fingers twitch. The adrenaline hasn’t left me yet, and I don’t know if it ever will.“Miss Sienna,”Whitmore’s calm voice follows me, smooth and unshakable.“Would you like me to escort you to the ladies’ room?”I nod, grateful for a moment of privacy, a chance to disappear from every judgmental eye in that room.“Please. That would be… very helpful.”He steps ahead, silent, steady, like a shadow carved from certainty. I follow, trying not to trip over my own thoughts. The hallway stretches on, grand and quiet, lined with paintings of Montgomerys staring down at us like they know every secret before we even think it. Chandeliers hang high, catching the dim light, throwing patterns across the marble fl
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Forty-Eight: The Taste of a Lie
“Are you telling us, Sienna, that you’re pregnant?”The word hangs in the air like smoke that will not fade.Lucian’s hand is still on my knee. The weight of it suddenly feels heavier, like it carries the eyes of everyone around that long, fancy table.I don’t dare look at him. My heart pounds so loud I hear it in my ears. Each second drags. I feel every stare drilling through me. I swallow once. Then again. My brain scrambles for something to say, anything.I didn't mean it literally. God, no. The words just slipped out when I was trying to shut Catherine up, to throw her own poison back at her. But now the lie sits there between us, waiting for me to either own it or die by it.I can’t deny it. Not now. Not after that talk about fertility, miscarriages, and medication. If I say I’m not pregnant, I look pathetic, like a broken toy pretending to be whole. Worse, I embarrass Lucian in front of his entire family.That is not an option. My chest tightens. My palms go damp on my lap. I ha
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