All Chapters of The Billionaire's Dirty Obsession: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

72 Chapters

51. Stillness

‘Lucien Whitmore Introduces Eden’s New Creative Director After Landmark Gala.’My eyes lingered on each line longer than necessary, my mind still struggling to come down from the dizzying high of being the talk of the day.I stood in line waiting for my latte, phone in hand, thumb scrolling past headlines that all felt like variations of the same sentence.The café was a few blocks from my apartment, close enough that I’d walked without thinking.Hera had insisted on picking me up here so we could “start celebrating immediately,” her exact words, which usually meant champagne throughout the day and at least one questionable purchase.She wasn’t here yet, and so was my order.Which meant I had time to think — to keep scrolling through the net almost against my will.‘Inside Eden’s Bold Rebrand Led by Rising Talent Scarlett Bennett.’‘Eden’s New Creative Director Has Everyone Talking—Here’s Why.’Most of the articles made my stomach twist with their thinly veiled condescension. Apparent

52. Emotionally self-destructive idiot

The hospital smelled of antiseptic, with something faintly metallic beneath it.My heels clicked too loudly against the polished floor as I crossed the lobby, the sound sharp enough to make a few heads turn. I barely noticed them. My pulse was still trapped somewhere between disbelief and dread.‘She collapsed in her apartment…’The nurse’s voice echoed again in my mind, calm in the practiced way of people who delivered terrible news every day.‘We believe it was a heart attack.’I tightened my grip on my bag and forced my legs to keep moving till I got to the reception desk.“Excuse me,” my voice sounded steadier than I felt. “I’m here for Mrs. Diane Wyatt. They called me.”The receptionist’s expression shifted instantly, sympathy settling into her eyes as her fingers moved across the keyboard.“Tenth floor, room 513.”I turned toward the elevators before she could offer me that look — the one people saved for bad news and fragile feelings.Inside the elevator, I leaned back against

53. A stalker

My fingers were numb around the plastic handles digging into them, by the time I pushed into my apartment.I nudged the door shut with my heel and stepped inside, letting the quiet wrap around me.The shopping bags rustled as I dropped my keys into the bowl by the door. My shoes came off next — one kicked free, the other dragged off impatiently and sent flying toward the couch. It hit the armrest and fell somewhere behind it.I watched it disappear.Oh well.The bags landed on the couch with a dull thud. I stared at them for a second, like they belonged to someone else, then turned and walked straight to my room before my mind could wander back to the hospital… or Justin… or anything that required feeling.I stripped out of my dress and stepped into the bathroom.The shower water was almost too hot, but I stood under it anyway, letting it beat against the back of my neck until my skin flushed pink and my thoughts blurred into steam.I spent roughly an hour in the shower. When I came o

54. Tantrums, Not Boundaries

“I understand why this may feel unsettling, Ms. Bennett. But at the moment, there isn’t enough evidence to open a formal investigation.” Officer Klein’s words hadn’t left me in forty-eight hours. “Stay aware of your surroundings. Avoid isolated areas. Call us if anything changes.” I’d tried. For two days, I’d crashed at Justin’s apartment with a convenient lie about my apartment floor getting replaced. He’d believed me— mostly because he hadn’t had time not to. I’d pushed through restless sleep and the soft scratching of cats outside a door I kept closed because my body refused to cooperate with fur. Nothing had happened. Nothing except the quiet, constant tension sitting under my skin. I’d called in sick at work for two days. Technically not a lie. Justin’s cats had wrecked my system, and whatever flu was stalking the city had decided to finish the job. Even now, seated in the Oakwood hotel’s lobby, I could feel my pulse racing, my knees bouncing — like they had been for days

55. No distractions... and yet

~~LucienMarla’s voice carried across the room as her presentation went on. Her voice was sharp, controlled in a way that most people couldn’t maintain, especially after the chaos of the last twelve hours.Everyone’s attention was fixed on the projection, including mine, yet the real weight in the room wasn’t on the screen.It was the tension underneath it.Eden had been hit by an internal leak.The first real breach since I took over.It not only shook market confidence but it’d bled right into our stock value.And it was because of one man. Glenford Barry.The cancer I had once chosen to spare.When the evidence of his theft first surfaced, I could have buried him in lawsuits. I didn’t. I allowed history and age to excuse arrogance. I assumed he understood better than to move against me again.I was wrong.Still, his audacity was… impressive.The man had courage.And powerful backers.What they didn’t realize was that their move had handed me exactly what I needed— an excuse to elim

56. A lie over wine

“Welcome, Mr. Whitmore,” The coat attendant greeted as I stepped into Maison Noir.I hummed in acknowledgment, shrugging out of my jacket. He took it and disappeared without another word.Gold light washed over the winery. The scent of aged wine hung thick in the air while soft jazz drifted through the room.Cassian was in a good mood.Better than I’d expected when he texted earlier, telling me to guess who was over.I’d assumed one of his favorite flings.But ten steps in— with no trace of chaos or perfume-soaked sin— I knew it had to be someone else. Probably one of his friends I didn’t like.Cassian was only this pleased when he planned to irritate me.I reached the back room. My hand closed around the knob— then paused at the sound of a familiar voice. One I hadn’t heard in years.My eyes narrowed.I pushed the door open.The first thing I saw was the tall figure beside the wine rack.Curly brown hair. Bright blue eyes. Familiar height.Remy Whitmore.My cousin.My brow lifted sli

57. You disobeyed again

Scarlett: It was past eight when the meeting with the foreign investors finally ended. I’d arrived too early… only to leave late. They hadn’t kept to time, and they hadn’t been merciful negotiators either. We reached an agreement over dinner in the end. I smiled as I exchanged a final handshake with the last of them. “We’ll be seeing your boss soon,” He said with a small, satisfied smile. “Thank you. I’ll let him know.” They nodded politely as I wished them goodnight and stepped away, their rigid female assistant escorting me out to the elevator. Near the lift, she and I exchanged thin, professional smiles before she turned back toward the room. I exhaled slowly. What a fucking long day. If I’d known it would be this exhausting, I would’ve come with Hannah. I had barely crossed the lobby when a hotel staff member intercepted me. “Ms. Bennett?” My brows lifted as I gave a cautious nod. “Mr. Whit—” He cleared his throat, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Lucas has arrange

58. Count.

I turned, slowly, my palms immediately meeting the marble as that was the only thing I could brace against.Before I could steady my breath, his hand pressed between my shoulders, guiding me down until I was pinned on the island.My breath caught, my pounding pulse drowning out the quiet in the room.A sharp gasp slipped free when I felt his other hand brush my thigh as he lifted my gown from the hem, the fabric brushing my skin till it clung to my waist. Next, my panties were sliding down my legs, and I stepped out of them before I knew it.Anticipation and heat coiled tight in my spine.I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d planned to do to me. How he’d planned to punish me — torture me. The last punishment was still seared in my mind, memory fresh like I was on my knees begging for a taste of him just yesterday.His hand caressed the curve of my ass, slowly, like he had all the time in the world and then it wasn’t that anymore, but —Crack.The sound split the silence.I jerked forw

59. Can we talk?

“We’re here, Ms. Scarlett.”Rowan’s voice cut through the static humming in my veins. I sat in the back, body wound tight as my mind betrayed me with the memory of minutes ago.I’d been so fucking close.I barely glanced at Rowan, not like he was paying attention anyway.“Thank you,” I managed, already reaching for the door handle.I stepped out and the night air hitting my skin made everything worse. My body was still charged, overheated and my nerves alive.God, I needed something. A release. I needed to get this out of my system, somehow.My feet moved fast. Too fast. As if the building had the power to put me out of my misery. Maybe not the whole building but my apartment did.Fuck. I hoped it did.I stormed inside and the doorman straightened. “Ms. Bennett—”“Martin, good evening,” I said without stopping, heading towards the elevators.He hurried after me.“There’s something for you. A man waited here most of the evening. Said he was your husband. Stephen. That was the name he g

60. Better late than never

I stared at him Just... Stared. Stephen shifted under my stare, his head tilting slightly, but the confident smile stayed. He gestured vaguely, hands still tucked into the pockets of a tailored charcoal jacket, an expensive watch glinting at his wrist. He was dressed like he had somewhere important to be. Funny. He’d put this much effort into showing up here. My gaze dipped briefly and I fought back a guffaw. He was wearing the salary-snatching Tom Fords I’d bought him years ago — the same pair he hadn’t liked then and never wore. How convenient. Despite his attempt at composure, something was… off. He looked rough. Eyes tired. Like he hadn’t slept in days. Which made sense. I’d heard the Hartleys weren’t doing too well lately. Financial hitches. Quiet ones. He was probably going through it. “About what?” Finally, my mouth opened. My voice was a little too calm for how I felt. He removed his hands from his pockets. “Did you get...um...the message I left last night?” “Th

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