All Chapters of Hate to Love Your Heart (A Billionaire’s Revenge): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Venessa’s POV Alex withdrew from me so abruptly that I was left reeling, my head still spinning from the intensity of the moment. My legs, once trembling beneath me, buckled under the weight of everything that had just happened. I collapsed to the floor, my knees crashing against the hard surface, the shock of it all leaving me breathless. He didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps, he simply didn’t care. Alex stood over me, his expression unchanged. He stared down at me with an icy detachment, as though what had just occurred meant nothing to him. His gaze was cold, calculating, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on me. A wicked smile curled at the corners of his lips, and it sent a fresh wave of dread through me. “So, you’re willing to sign the contract now?” he said, his voice smooth and mocking. “I was hoping you’d hold out a bit longer, but I guess I was wrong.” The words were like a slap in the face. He wasn’t even concerned about my surrender, just pleased by how eas

Alex POV…. The silence hung between us like a thick fog, suffocating, almost unbearable. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on me, and yet I didn’t want to move. She was standing there, still holding the towel tightly around herself, her body tense, the anger in her eyes unmistakable. But beneath that anger, I could see the cracks. She was scared—scared of what had happened, scared of what was coming next. It unsettled me. For all her bravado, for all her fire, she was vulnerable. And I didn’t know how to handle that. “You’re still holding on to that towel like it’s your shield,” I said, my voice calm, detached. It felt like the right thing to say, though it wasn’t. I could see the way her grip tightened, her knuckles turning white. She was terrified. And I had just made it worse. “Why does it matter?” she snapped, her voice a little more brittle this time. “Why do you care if I cover myself or not?” I didn’t have an answer for her, not really. She was right—she

Alex POV…. I walked into the house after a long day of dealing with the business side of things. The silence felt almost oppressive, like the weight of everything pressing down on me. The day had been full of reports, meetings, and decisions, but there was something else, something more… personal, that I couldn’t shake. Venessa. I had been thinking about her more than I cared to admit. I had kept her in the room all day, her freedom confined by my command. My instructions were clear: she wasn’t to leave. Not until I said so. It was part of my control, part of the plan. She had signed the contract, and now she was mine, but I didn’t want her out of my sight. Not just yet. I made my way down the hallway toward her room, the heavy silence around me only amplifying the soft, rhythmic sound of my footsteps. As I reached the door, I could see a sliver of light escaping from beneath it. She was still in there. When I pushed the door open, I froze. Venessa was curled up on the bed

Alex’s POV.. I stepped away from the bed, trying to steady myself after the chaos that had just unfolded. The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort that had settled in my chest. I needed to put some distance between us—especially after what had just happened. Venessa was still sitting there, her tear-streaked face turned toward me as I made my way toward the door. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, despite my insistence that I hadn’t done anything wrong. I needed to get out of the room for a moment. I needed to think. Before I stepped out, though, I glanced back at her, my voice gruff. “Get dressed. We’re going to the mansion. I’ll be waiting outside.” I didn’t give her time to respond, not that I expected any. It wasn’t like I had much patience for this emotional mess right now. The reality of what we were doing, the contract, the marriage—it was all starting to feel like too much. But I had made my choice. I had

Venessa’s POV….. As the car rolled through the gates and up the long driveway, I felt my breath catch in my throat. The mansion stood before me like a colossal, gleaming monolith, its sheer size almost incomprehensible. I’d seen mansions in magazines and on TV, but nothing could have prepared me for this—this living, breathing structure of opulence. The mansion was an architectural masterpiece. From the outside, it resembled something out of a fairytale or a history book, a grand palace of sorts. The facade was a stunning mix of sleek, modern glass and ornate classical design. Tall columns framed the massive front entrance, and the roofline was dotted with intricate carvings that seemed to tell stories I would never understand. The marble driveway was immaculate, the kind of flawless surface that reflected the perfect light of the setting sun. But it wasn’t just the architecture that took my breath away. It was the sheer scale of the place, the way it loomed over everything, castin