All Chapters of Priced By My Billionaire Nemesis: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Adrian stood alone in his office and stared out at the city. The ordered grid of streets and glass below had always steadied him. Systems responded to pressure. Outcomes could be anticipated with enough data. Consequences, in his world, were not mysterious.None of that applied to Lena.She was everywhere, not physically but intrusively, embedded in sensation rather than thought. The memory of her weight, the warmth of her skin, the way she had accepted him without asking for anything that resembled tenderness. It unsettled him because it had not felt like conquest. It had not even felt like satisfaction.It had felt necessary.That was what made him angry. Not at her, not even at himself in the obvious way, but at the fracture in his own self-concept. He had told himself he would not touch her. He had repeated it like law. He had framed restraint as proof of superiority, as if denying desire made him immune to it. Then, in one night, he had crossed his own boundary so thoroughly that

Dinner at Evelyn’s table was soft in the way only illness makes things soft, as if the body itself insisted on gentleness; movements slowed without being asked to, words were chosen with care rather than urgency, and even laughter arrived carefully, restrained, as though afraid to startle something already struggling to remain intact.I sat close to her, instinctively aware of the effort it took for her to stay upright and to finish a meal she barely touched, pouring her water before she asked and adjusting the cushion behind her back without comment, while Adrian watched from across the table with an expression I could not read, his attention divided between his mother and me in a way that tightened my shoulders even as I pretended not to notice.I was used to that look—the quiet tracking, the unspoken accounting that never announced itself outright but made its presence known all the same.Evelyn noticed everything, and I knew it not because she intervened or corrected, but because

A month had passed without incident, which should have felt like relief.Instead, it felt like a held breath that never quite reached release, a pause stretched too long to remain neutral. The days had settled into a pattern that appeared peaceful from the outside. School in the mornings. Evelyn in the afternoons. Home in the evenings. The repetition dulled the sharp edges of fear just enough to make it dangerous. Without realizing it consciously, I had begun to believe that perhaps the worst had already happened. That silence, once established, could be maintained. That distance, once created, might hold.That afternoon, I left Evelyn’s house earlier than usual.She had friends over, women she had known for decades, their laughter layered with shared history and the ease of people who had survived long enough to stop performing for one another. I helped arrange tea and cakes, set plates, kissed Evelyn’s cheek, and excused myself before the weight of company drained what little streng

There were a few days of silence that felt planned rather than random.Adrian didn't speak up again. He didn't bring it up again. He didn't check the perimeter or look for weak spots. Instead, he did what he always did when something bothered him: he made things more organized. Leaving early. Returns that are late. Getting back precision through absence. Control was restored by limiting the area of engagement.The house moved around him.Plans turned into expectations. There was less noise at meals. It felt like even the air was controlled, as if any variation from the norm was suspicious. He wasn't punishing me. He was putting everything back in order, and the difference was more important to me than I wanted it to be.I didn't push.I walked through the house slowly, like someone who knew the floor was getting thinner. I did the same things every day. I stuck to schedules that weren't written down but were clearly enforced. I only spoke when someone else did. I answered everything e

Inside the ballroom, the air vibrated with expectation.Crystal chandeliers refracted light into fragments that skimmed the crowd. Voices rose and fell. Applause broke out for speeches Lena barely registered. She felt it as pressure rather than sound—attention grazing her skin whether she wanted it or not.She moved with ease.Smiled when required.Spoke when addressed and never more than necessary.Her hand rested lightly on Adrian’s arm when protocol demanded it. The touch was measured. Brief. Technical.People noticed.They always did.Compliments came easily. About her poise. Her beauty. The way she seemed to soften him.Adrian accepted them with a practiced smile, each one tightening something sharp in his chest. They were praising a version of her he no longer had access to. One that felt curated to remind him how little control he truly had.He noticed the looks.Men’s gazes lingered a fraction too long. Women assessed her with quick, calculating glances—measuring threat, beaut