The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Xavier awoke abruptly, sensing the chill of an empty space next to him. The bed lay cool and untouched, devoid of any lingering warmth. Shifting his position, a derisive sound escaped his mouth, assuming Cathleen must be in the bathroom freshening up. Memories of their passionate night danced at the fringes of his thoughts-her tired sighs echoing in the quiet room, her form yielding to the unyielding tides of pleasure he had extracted from her core. Against his will, a faint smile flirted with his expression.This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Needy, weren’t you?” he murmured to the empty room, picturing her chained form on the spanking bench. Her beauty in bondage was a vivid image that both infuriated and captivated him. The soft light filtering through the curtains highlighted the absence he felt-an absence that gnawed at his insides, stirring a dangerous cocktail of desire and unease.

Minutes dragged into a half hour, yet there was still no sound from Cathleen. With a furrow in his brow, Xavier rose, the silk sheets slipping away like whispers against his skin. His bare feet touched the cold floor as he strode to the bathroom-empty. A surge of irritation quickened his pulse.

“Dammit, Cathleen,” he growled, pacing towards the dungeon with a predator’s silent intensity. The dungeon lay quiet and abandoned, every inch scoured by his piercing gaze, only to find it devoid of her presence. The laundry room door creaked open next, revealing nothing but shadows and linens.

But there-his sharp eyes caught the anomaly. The washing machine door was ajar. Xavier moved closer, his instincts honed by years of control now whispering caution. His hand reached out, hesitated, and then pulled the blood-stained sheet from the drum. The sight struck him-a visceral blow that coiled tension in his gut.

“Blood.” He spat the word like venom, the reality of it splintering his composure.

Swiftly, his legs carried him back to the bed in the dungeon, the scene of their last encounter. His hands searched, finding dampness amidst the darkness, and he flinched as though scalded. He didn’t need the moonlight’s betrayal to know the truth.

“She… Fuck! She has never been touched. She was a virgin.” The words were a choked whisper; his voice was a stranger’s in the stillness. Xavier lifted his blood-coated hand before his eyes, the stark crimson a testimony to Cathleen’s untouched past-a past he’d just torn asunder.

Frozen, Xavier sat on the stained bed, the weight of his actions anchoring him to the spot. Speechless, full of regret, he was haunted by the ghost of her sharp tongue and the fire of her spirit-a woman who refused to be a pushover, now gone. And in her absence, Xavier Knight, the man who commanded empires, was rendered powerless by the echo of betrayal bleeding into the fabric of his life.

Xavier paced the austere expanse of his bedroom, a tempest brewing in his chest. His mind replayed the previous night-a relentless assault he mistook for passion. Cathleen’s stubborn silence had masked an unspoken truth, and now the revelation clawed at him.

“Damn it, Cathleen,” he muttered, his voice a low growl resonating through the cold air. He raked a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers trembling with the weight of his regret.

His bedroom was like a dark mausoleum, with shadows lurking in every corner and creeping over the furniture. The oppressive weight of the darkness seemed to close in on him as he moved, mirroring his inner turmoil. It was a fitting backdrop for the aftermath of his actions, a reminder of the destruction he had caused. The bed sheets lay crumpled and rumpled as if they had been abandoned in the midst of passion-and yet they remained untouched since their departure. It was a physical representation of the void he had left behind when he took from her without fully understanding or appreciating the gift she had silently offered.

He reached for his pants, which were thrown carelessly across a chair. Digging into the pockets, he found his phone, its screen still smeared with last night’s recklessness. He dialed her number with a hope that was both desperate and futile.

The line rang once, twice, then surrendered to the indifferent tone of voicemail. Xavier’s grip on the device tightened-a physical manifestation of his internal struggle. He hurled the phone against the wall, watching as it shattered, fragments scattering like pieces of his composure.

“Fuck!” The curse echoed, a stark reminder of his failure to understand the woman he’d claimed as his own. He wasn’t gentle with her, yet she bore it all with the stoicism of a seasoned warrior.

Cathleen’s sharp tongue, that defiant weapon she wielded so expertly, never yielded-not even when it should have softened in the wake of such intimacy. Her resilience was as maddening as it was admirable.

But now, amidst the wreckage of technology and trust, Xavier stood alone, confronted by the truth of his love-hate entanglement with Cathleen. He had sworn never to love her, yet the chasm between them seemed to widen with each passing second.

“Never a complaint, always a battle,” he whispered to the silent room. His words were a testament to their dynamic-a cycle of violence and abuse that neither could escape.

In the quiet aftermath, Xavier realized that even if someone beat or threatened Cathleen, there was no way she would give in. If she couldn’t show any sign of hurt or pain last night, he wasn’t the one with the upper hand. She was the master of whatever fucking game they were playing.

But then, why does he still want to fuck her, tie her, and make her surrender? Xavier smirked. This was now going to be him chasing after his wife and making her submit to him. He knew it wasn’t going to be an easy thing to do. But then he thought of another thing that has always bothered him: ‘Wasn’t she engaged to be married to Finn? Then why was she still a virgin?’ Xavier thought in the stillness of the room.

‘If she was a virgin, then she was never a prostitute. Never slept with his dad.’ He continued to think. “Just who are you, Cathleen Knight?” He thinks out loud, then reaches out for his phone and sighs when he sees the damn thing broken. Then he went to the landline and dialed Caleb’s number.

“Hello, Sir,” Caleb answered.

“Buy some flowers. Send them to Miss William with a note stating that our arrangement must come to an end. I don’t fucking care how you write it. I have a stubborn wife to chase.” He says as he smirks, ending the call and the thought of his dad. “That old man knew all this while, and he is going to help me get his favorite daughter-in-law.”