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Chapter nine: The Truth in Black Ink
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2025-05-28 00:37:21
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I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Seven: Almost Isn’t Enough
“At least we can admit that slap knocked a little sense into you. It did you some good.”I teased, swirling my glass and shooting him a wicked grin. “Sienna might’ve saved every woman in the world from suffering through your insufferable arrogance. She knocked some sense into that thick billionaire skull of yours.”Lucian actually laughed. His voice deep, smooth, and unguarded as he tries to hide himself from showing me his true face while laughing. His hearty laugh, so rich and smooth sent my stupid heart racing like I’d just sprinted up ten flights of stairs in heels.I gripped my glass tighter and forced a shrug, pretending like it didn’t matter. I wasn’t sure I could get used to this version of him, this relaxed, buddy-buddy Lucian who laughed at my jokes instead of rolling his eyes or pouring insults my way. In reality, we hate each other. That was our thing. We argued. We mocked. We threw daggers with words and sometimes with looks. We didn’t sit here laughing like… friends.Hi
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Six: A Slap Worth Remembering
Three weeks. That’s how long it had been since I agreed, against every sane bone in my body to play Sienna’s double. To be her stunt double. Three weeks of etiquette lessons, posture drills, endless practice dinners, and correcting every little thing I did wrong. Sit straighter. Walk slower. Don’t grip the fork like you’re about to stab someone. Always keep eye contact. Smile but not too much. Chin up. Shoulders back.If I heard “channel Sienna” one more time, I swore I’d throw my wine glass off the balcony and scream so much profanity even the next door neighbor will chant them in their sleep.But I had to admit, I learned way more quickly than expected. I mean High society wasn’t new to me. I’d been born into it, raised in it, shoved into cocktail dresses and charity galas before I even hit puberty. So the basics came back fast. The real struggle was Sienna’s personality. Calm. Reserved. Graceful. Always measured, like every word she spoke had been weighed and tested before leavin
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Five: Playing Sienna
The second Lucian’s words left his mouth, I felt my entire body go cold. My legs actually staggered back, and before I knew it, I was shaking my head so hard my hair whipped across my face.“No. Absolutely not.”I started off protesting “You’ve lost your Goddamn mind if you think I’m doing that,” I blurted, hands flying up like I was fending off a punch. “That’s perfect,” Sienna praised, her voice soft but glowing with relief. I caught the way Lucian’s mouth twitched, that faint smug smirk sneaking across his face.My jaw dropped. “You too?” I turned to her, eyes wide, my chest tightening with disbelief.“Don’t tell me you’re siding with him on this.”Sienna leaned back, her lips pressing together into a tin line before she let out a shaky sigh. “Scarlett, he’s right. This could actually work. You looked just like me when you walked across the room just now.”I stared at her, stunned. “Excuse me? I wasn’t even trying! I was pacing because I’m losing my mind, not because I was p
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Four: A Family’s Cruel Game
“What now?” I muttered to myself but loud enough for Lucian to hear me.Lucian strolled all the way back to his seat and collapsed on it like the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders. His jaw flexed, his fingers tapping against the armrest, his eyes distant and hard. “We wait,” he said quietly, as if those two words were supposed to make any sense.“For how long?” I demanded, tilting my head at him. “And what’s this gala you mentioned that feels like some forbidden topic no one dares to talk about?”He rubbed his temple, let out a slow breath, and looked at me. Before Lucian could answer, Sienna burst the door open again. The door flew so hard it bounced off the wall twice and she stepped back into the room. Then grabbing the door frame and slamming it like a child throwing a tantrum. With her nostril fuming, she stormed over to the couch Vince dumped her in previously and slumped in it.“The gala,” she repeated, as if she was eavesdropping “It’s this mandatory fami
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Three: The Weight of Forgiveness
Lucian didn’t say a word. He just stared at Sienna like someone had punched the air out of his lungs and left him to suffocate. His eyes were wide, mouth half parted, yet no sound came out. Sienna turned her face away, refusing to meet his gaze, her chin tilting up with that stubbornness I knew too well.The silence stretched. I leaned back against the wall, arms folded tight over my chest, and let out a breath I’d been holding for too long.“You know what?” I snapped, my voice breaking the still air. “I can’t keep babysitting the two of you.”I huffed “You’re not children. You’re two grown adults acting like it’s the end of the world because of one fight. Do you know how exhausting this is for me? Do you have any idea how much I’ve sobbed over this? I’m so fucking tired.”Sienna’s head whipped toward me, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here. I’m the one he betrayed. I’m the one who can’t even look at him without wanting to scream.You can forgive him s
I Hate You, Mr Billionaire. Chapter Thirty-Two: The Push
The air between Lucian and me had shifted significantly. It wasn’t warm, not even close, but it wasn’t boiling hot anymore either. We weren’t at each other’s throats every second of every day, and that counted for something.He didn’t scowl when I walked past him in the hall, his sharp jaw relaxed instead of clenched. I didn’t mutter insults under my breath when he sat across the dining table, his silverware clicking against the china like it was the only sound in the room, making sure it irritated only me. Sometimes he even nodded at me in greeting, the kind of nod you give a neighbor you don’t particularly like but have learned to live with. I took it. At this point, peace was priceless.The real surprise came the evening I found a bottle of wine waiting in my room. The curtains were drawn against the night, the lamp casting a golden glow across the sheets. The bottle sat neatly on the dresser with a folded note propped against it. Not for me, obviously. The note was short, clipped
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