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Chapter Sixty-One: Balcony Solace
Last Updated:
2026-02-27 16:03:09
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I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Sixty-Three: Devil's Bargain
The word hung in the air like smoke from a freshly fired gun. Grandfather’s face split into a triumphant grin. His eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of a man who had just closed the deal of a lifetime. “Splendid,” he drawled, voice thick with triumph and that signature Montgomery smoothness to it. As if the entire evening had been scripted for this exact moment. He pulled his phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, tapped once, and spoke into it without breaking eye contact with me. “Bring the contract to the lounge. I need it urgently so don’t waste my time.” Lucian hadn’t moved. He stood frozen two steps away, staring at me like I’d grown a second head and announced I was joining the circus. His dark eyes were wide, disbelief carved so deep into his features that for once the perfect Montgomery mask had cracked so clean in half, I wasn’t sure if it was the same man standing before me.I didn’t care how insane I looked to him anymore. Let him think I’d finally lost my mind
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Sixty-Two: The Succession Game
The applause crashes over the room like a wave, but it's mixed with all these gasps and murmurs rippling through the crowd. People are whispering behind their hands, eyes darting around like they've just heard the punchline to some twisted joke. I stand there frozen, my heart pounding in my ears, as Grandfather's words sink in. Produce an heir? Like we're all pieces in his little dynasty board game? Now I get why Damien hates the old man so much. It's straight-up unethical, using unborn kids as gambling chips for who gets the throne. But this is the Montgomery family way, apparently. Ruthless deals and power plays are just how things roll. No wonder Lucian's built like a fortress; he's been navigating this crap his whole life.But why is Grandfather so damn confident I'll be the one to "win" this for Lucian? Enough to dangle that contract in front of me like bait? Does he think I'm that desperate, or does he see something in me that I don't? My stomach twists at the thought. I glance
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Sixty-One: Balcony Solace
I burst through the glass doors onto the third-floor balcony and the cool night air finally lets me breathe. The city sprawls out below like a sea of lights, skyscrapers poking up everywhere, twinkling like they’re laughing at me. I grab the railing hard, tears still sliding down my face, hot and stupid. What the hell is wrong with me? Why do Lucian's words cut so deep, twisting in my gut like a knife? It's not like he's never been an asshole before. Hell, that's practically his default setting. But this... this hurts in a way I can't shake, like he's peeled back a layer I didn't even know was raw.I suck in a shaky breath, the distant hum of traffic and the faint jazz spilling from the ballroom mixing together. My dress clings to me, suddenly feeling too tight. I wipe at my cheeks with the back of my hand, but it's useless, my mascara's probably running now, turning me into a raccoon-eyed mess. Just great.The door creaks open behind me, Soft footsteps approach—heels clicking lightly
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Sixty: The Family Portrait
The ballroom seems to pulse with a life of its own as we approach the raised dais where Grandfather has orchestrated this little family spectacle. Cameras are already set up in a semi-circle, their lenses glinting under the chandeliers. Low chatter of guests milling about, but all eyes are subtly shifting toward us. The Montgomerys. The untouchable elite, about to pose like some glossy magazine cover. I can feel the weight of expectations pressing down, thicker than the perfume-scented air.Grandfather stands at the center, his silver hair impeccably combed, suit tailored to perfection. A black with subtle pinstripes that scream old money. His cane taps lightly on the polished floor as he directs everyone with that commanding voice, the one that brooks no argument. "Alexander, to my right. Catherine beside you. Damien, left flank. Margaret, next to him. Lucian, you'll be on Alexander's other side, and Sienna , right here, between Lucian and me."I blink, trying to process the lineup
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Man of the Hour
Damien downs the rest of his drink in one long swallow, throat working like he’s trying to drown something more than just the drink itself. “The man of the hour,” he mutters, voice thick with taunting. “No matter how hard I try, I really can’t stand him. Everything about that old bastard and this damn family is a competition. It’s suffocating. Let him just pick an heir already so I can go back to being more useless than I already am.”I tilt my head, studying him over the rim of my glass. “You’re not interested in taking over the empire?”He snorts, setting the empty glass down with a sharp clink. “In truth I was once upon a time. Till the old fart wanted me to give something I couldn’t let myself give. Now I’m just really fed up with it.”“Let’s say it magically just fell on your lap. Won’t you take the opportunity and just seize it.”That made him pause, giving him some time to actually think.“If it did fall into my lap? Sure, why not. But if I have to fight for it? I’d rather
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Fifty Eight: The Ballroom
The moment we step into the ballroom, my senses are hit with a wave of gold, crystal, and the faintest hint of expensive perfume. Chandeliers hang like frozen explosions above us, spilling warm light over polished floors that reflect every movement. The room stretches endlessly, a grand ocean of mingling guests, champagne flutes, and sparkling gowns. My eyes wander, drinking in the glittering spectacle while my stomach tightens. The air smells faintly of wine, perfume, and expensive cigars from a corner table.A bar boy passes by, tray balanced on just one hand while holding glasses of red wine. Lucian, behind me, snatches two without hesitation and downs them both in one go.“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.“Speak for yourself,” he replies, voice low, dry, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.I turn quickly, placing a hand on his chest. “Please, control yourself will you.its hard to believe that your dignified when your performing.”He glances down at me, eyes sharp, a teasing
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