The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 144: The Devil protect his own

Lucy emerged from her room, freshly showered and dressed in a soft silk robe, her hair wrapped up in a towel. The scent of lavender and honey trailed behind her as she padded barefoot across the polished marble floor of the Anderson mansion.

In her arms, swaddled in a blue blanket, was baby Andrew, the child she’d claimed, the one she was convinced would finally bind Ethan to her forever. She cradled him gently, rocking him with a mother’s practiced rhythm, though her eyes were heavy with sleeplessness and paranoia.

She hummed lightly as she walked into the sunlit lounge, trying to appear like any proud new mother. But her fingers trembled slightly with each step. She sat down, adjusting the baby in her arms, brushing his soft, curly hair.

"You’re mine now," she whispered, her voice almost manic with devotion. "No one is going to take you from me. Not Mara, not Valerie, not even Bella. She should’ve just stayed out of it."

The thought of Mrs. Bella, lying in a hospital bed unconscious or worse made Lucy shiver. Guilt flickered across her face, but she pushed it away like a shadow she refused to acknowledge.

"I didn’t mean it," she whispered to the baby, as though needing his forgiveness too. "It was an accident. Grandpa too. They’ll be fine. They just... they saw too much."

Andrew stirred softly in her arms, letting out a baby sigh. She kissed his forehead, rocking him closer.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed. A message.

She jumped, startled, and fumbled for it. It was from Philip.

"Where’s Vera?"

Lucy’s heart skipped. She hadn’t had the chance to bring Vera to him yet. Everything had spiraled after Bella fell and Anderson Sr. had seen too much.

She quickly replied.

"Soon. Everything got messy. Bella saw me. I had no choice."

"Handle it."

The message was simple, cold, and terrifying. Just like Philip.

Lucy put the phone down and looked at baby Andrew again.

"No one’s going to take you," she whispered, holding him tighter. "Not even your real mother."

—

Meanwhile, at the Anderson mansion, a nurse walked into Mr. Anderson’s room after a two-hour break, expecting to find the old man still asleep. But the room was too quiet... unnaturally so.

"Sir?" she called softly, brushing his shoulder.

No movement. novelbuddy.cσ๓

She leaned in closer, then froze his skin was cold.

"Code blue! I need help in here!" she screamed, as staff came running.

He was rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. The doctors tried, but he was gone.

They pronounced him dead: a heart attack.

It wasn’t unexpected his medical records showed a long-standing heart condition. The family mourned, heavy with grief, but there was no shock... not at first.

But Ethan, sitting in the hallway alone outside the ER, didn’t feel right. His gut twisted.

He requested a private autopsy under the radar, citing "closure" as his reason. No one questioned him he was Ethan Anderson, after all.

—

Back at the Anderson estate, Lucy breathed easier when she overheard Valerie telling Ethan about Bella’s condition.

"Even if she wakes up... there may be some paralysis. She might not be able to speak."

It was all she needed to hear. She nearly smiled her secret was safe. Bella couldn’t tell anyone what she saw, and the only other witness, Mr. Anderson, was now gone.

Her position, her power, and her narrative all intact.

She returned to her room with baby Andrew in her arms, kissed his forehead, and whispered, "See? Everything’s going to be just fine."

–

The Shepherd mansion was unusually still the morning Mara received the news.

She sat by the window with baby Audrey sleeping peacefully in her arms when Valerie walked in, her face pale, lips pressed into a grim line.

"Mara," she said quietly. "It’s Bella. She’s... she’s in a coma."

Mara’s heart dropped. "What? How?" her voice cracked.

Valerie shook her head. "They said she fell down the stairs. I wasn’t home when it happened. No one was. Lucy said she didn’t see anything."

Mara’s eyes narrowed slightly, her instincts twitching beneath the sorrow. "I’m so sorry, Val... That woman doesn’t deserve to be in that bed."

Valerie nodded, sitting beside her. "They said even if she wakes up... she might not be the same. She might be paralyzed. And we lost grandfather too,"

The pain settled into Mara’s chest like a stone. She remembered how fiercely Bella had loved her the first moment she met her and old Anderson and how they clicked the moment they had met. Mara holds Valerie’s hand, she needs it.

—

A few days later, the family gathered in muted sorrow beneath a grey sky to lay Old Anderson to rest. It was a small ceremony, but filled with deep grief.

Mara, flanked by the four Shepherd brothers, stood quietly near the casket. Her eyes scanned the mourners, her gaze eventually falling on Lucy, dressed in black, but with no real sadness behind her eyes.

Mara’s grief had begun to curdle.

It no longer sat like a wound, bleeding and raw, it had hardened into something colder. Sharper. Her pain had a direction now, and a target was slowly forming in the fog of her thoughts.

It was Lucy.

But then again... it was always Lucy, wasn’t it?

The problem was, Lucy was like smoke, slippery, impossible to hold. You think you’ve got her cornered, and she vanishes into a puff of innocence and sweet-smelling lies. Mara’s gut screamed, but there was no proof. Not yet.

She turned her gaze toward the casket, where Old Mr. Anderson lay, lifeless but still dignified. The pain in her chest tightened. One more soul is gone. One more person who loved her.

Ethan stood still as a statue just a few feet away—his face gaunt, lips pressed in a hard line. His mother in a coma. His grandfather dead. His marriage shattered. His daughter barely knew him.

And his son...

He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His suit hung on him like armor he no longer had the strength to carry.

Then, Steph, his assistant, approached silently and whispered, "Sir... the report. From the coroner. It’s in your safe now."

Ethan blinked. For a second, he didn’t even know what he was talking about.

Then it hit him.

The autopsy.

He nodded, his voice barely audible. "Good. Don’t let anyone near it."

"Yes, sir."

Ethan didn’t know what he was expecting to find in the report—maybe just peace of mind, or maybe some hidden horror waiting to explain why his world was caving in.

But he wouldn’t read it now. Not with mourners around he would open the safe and face the truth. Right now, all he could do was stand and pretend like everything wasn’t falling apart.

Lucy fake-crying near the casket, dabbing her eyes like she hadn’t just buried the only man who might’ve exposed her.

Lucy discreetly hands a few crisp bills to a young man lingering near the entrance, instructing him to relay a carefully crafted message to Vera. She wants him to convey that an admirer of her breathtaking painting has been patiently waiting at the gate, eager to speak with her about her artwork. Vera stood frozen at the gate, her eyes wide and heart thumping so hard she thought it might crack her ribs.

"Victor is no longer breathing this air... daddy took care of him."

Those words echoed in her skull like a thunderclap, making her ears ring. Her hands trembled as she stared at the key and slip of paper now in her palm. It was real. She wasn’t dreaming. She wasn’t painting a new vision or slipping into one of her daydreams.

Philip the man everyone was desperately trying to find had just handed her something that could be vital. Dangerous. A piece to the puzzle.

And she hadn’t even screamed.

Not when he appeared out of nowhere. Not when he confessed to murder. Not when he touched her hand.

Why didn’t I scream? Why didn’t I run?

The cold sweat down her back answered that for her. She was scared. Terrified. But now, standing still in the doorway with the key tucked into her hand and her fingers closed tight around the note, a different emotion stirred inside her.

Responsibility.

"Miss Vera?" one of the guards called gently, stepping up to her. "You alright?"

She blinked at him, swallowed, and nodded with a tight smile. "Y-Yeah. Just... a fan of my work. A little weird."

The guard gave her a knowing look, then stepped aside to let her back in. She walked slowly, her shoes barely making a sound on the floor.

Inside the Anderson mansion, grief hung thick in the air. Her mother, Valerie, was quietly handling funeral arrangements. Mara hadn’t said much since the service, and Ethan talked to the guest. No one was in the mood for bad news.

Should I tell them now? Vera thought. Or should I check this place out myself first?

She looked at the address again. It wasn’t far. An abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town. It might be a dead end. Or it might be the place everyone had been looking for all along.

Her heart pounded.

If this was about Andrew Mara’s son then waiting could cost them everything. But if it was a trap...

She sat down slowly at her easel and stared at her unfinished canvas. Her brush hovered, but her thoughts were far away.

"I’m not brave," she whispered to herself.

But then she thought of Mara, cradling baby Audrey in her arms with silent tears rolling down her cheeks. She thought of Ethan’s broken face, of the funeral, of Mrs. Bella in a coma and the possibility that Philip and Lucy were behind all of it.

No. She wasn’t brave.

But maybe it was time to try.