The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 147: She is gone

He turned to her, the corner of his mouth twitching like it wanted to smile but didn’t dare.

"I told you," he said. "I’d pursue you properly once you were a free woman. And now you are."

He moved closer, slow and deliberate, placing a plate of food in front of her—warm, savory, rich. The kind of meal that reminded you there was still blood in your body, still strength in your bones.

"First, I get you his head," he said softly. "Then I’ll focus on winning your heart."

Mara let out a soft sigh, her expression unreadable. "I’m not in the mood to laugh, Rafael."

"Good," he said without missing a beat, pulling out a chair. "We need strength to fight. And strength needs food."

She stared at the plate for a moment longer, fork resting in her fingers like a weapon she had forgotten how to wield. Then, slowly, deliberately, she took a bite.

It was the first food she’d eaten in days. And it tasted like fuel. Like purpose. Like vengeance, dressed in salt and butter.

Each bite was a small declaration: I will rise.

Rafael watched her, saying nothing, just being there. Not pressing. Not pushing. Just present. Just real.

"You said you’d get me his head," Mara said after a few moments. "What’s the plan?"

He leaned in, his voice low.

"We take his empire apart piece by piece. He won’t even know which hole to plug first. His men will turn on him when the money runs dry. And when he’s desperate..."

Rafael’s smile was dark, knowing.

"...that’s when we move in."

Mara nodded slowly, chewing one last bite before setting down her fork.

"Good," she said. "Let him feel everything I’ve felt. Let him lose everything before I take what’s left."

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was loaded. Thick with strategy and shared pain, with things unsaid and promises hanging in the air like smoke.

This wasn’t love. Not yet. But it was something dangerous. Something that could grow between bloodstains and broken trust.

As Rafael stood, heading for the door, she called after him.

"Rafael?"

He paused.

"When it’s done, when you get me his head, what then?"

He turned, eyes sharp but soft around the edges.

"Then I give you mine," he said simply. And he was gone. Mara sat still for a long moment. Then she reached for the file again. There were names to cross out as she stared at them for hours, her new purpose. They have to pay.

--- freēwēbnovel.com

The morning light poured gently through the windows of the Shepherd mansion, painting golden stripes across the polished floor. It was too early for guests, too quiet for noise, and yet the house felt heavier than usual, as if something, or someone, was missing.

Because someone was.

Mara.

She had woken up with a soft resolve, no drama, no speeches. Just a choice made quietly, from somewhere deep in her chest where fear met clarity.

She needed space.

Time.

Not for Ethan. Not even for her brothers.

For her.

And for baby Audrey.

She told them with a gentle firmness that brokered no argument. "I love you all," she said that morning, standing in the foyer with her overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Audrey nestled peacefully in her arms, "but I need some time alone with her. Just... us."

The brothers didn’t press. They watched her go, torn between worry and respect.

Steve had tried to offer her a car. Stanley had folded his arms and looked away, jaw tight. Stefan kissed Audrey’s forehead, and Stanford simply whispered, "Be safe."

And then she left.

No destination shared. No timeline was given. Just a promise: "I’ll be okay."

The next day, Ethan came back.

He didn’t walk in with the same careful steps as the morning before. He was surer this time, determined. He had rehearsed what he wanted to say all night, barely sleeping, heart pacing faster with each imagined conversation.

But the moment he stepped through the door and saw only her absence...

He knew.

"She’s not here," Steve said, already in the kitchen, his eyes tired, voice flat.

Ethan’s stomach sank. "What? What do you mean?"

"She left yesterday morning."

Ethan blinked, his throat tight. "Where did she go?"

"We don’t know," Stefan said from behind him. "She said she needed time."

"With Audrey," Stanford added.

Ethan stood still for a beat too long, his hands curling slowly into fists at his sides—not in anger, but in helplessness.

"She left?" he echoed, as if saying it aloud might make it feel less sharp.

Stanley finally turned from the window and met his eyes. "The pain was suffocating her, man."

Ethan nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I know."

"And now," Steve said gently, "she’s trying to heal. On her terms."

There was a silence then—thick, deep, and heavy.

Ethan walked toward the doorway, unsure what to do with his hands, his thoughts, his aching chest.

"She took Audrey," he said softly, more to himself than to them.

"She’s not running from you," Stefan added quietly, almost kindly. "She’s just... finding herself again. As a mom. As Stef."

Ethan nodded, eyes glassy, jaw tense.

"I should’ve come sooner," he whispered.

And no one argued with him.

He turned away, his shoulders slumped in a way that said everything his words couldn’t. Regret. Hope. Love that wasn’t enough, at least, not yet.

Mara was gone.

Not forever. But for now.

And all Ethan could do was wait and hope she’d come back, not just for Audrey...

...but for him too.

Three weeks after the burial, Mara stepped off the private jet in heels that echoed across the tarmac like a war drum.

The air was thick with humidity and heat, Moami’s darker, grittier twin nestled just across the ocean: Cartana. Bright on the surface, seedy underneath. A place where paradise and poison wore the same perfume.

This was the city where Philip made his real money. Where he ran girls through the back doors of neon-lit clubs and washed dirty bills through beachfront casinos and luxury high-rises, no one ever questioned.

The moment her feet touched foreign soil, Mara felt something shift.

She wasn’t the broken woman in a bed anymore. She was sharp again. Sleek. And terrifying.

Next to her, Rafael adjusted his sunglasses, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to whisper danger, his jaw locked like a man with a hundred things to do and no time for mercy.

"We blend in first," he said, his voice low as they climbed into the back of a black car with tinted windows. "Let the city think you’re just a rich woman looking for sun and champagne."

Mara smirked faintly. "They’ll believe it. I am a rich woman."

He chuckled. "Not just that anymore."

The penthouse they checked into sat above the entire skyline. All white marble and gold fixtures, glass walls that looked down on the city like a god watching ants. But Mara didn’t care for the view. She cared for the people who’d made this their kingdom, people who would soon learn what it meant to kneel.

Every morning, she woke early. Trained. Ran. Ate and checked on her baby with 5 nannies around her.

Her body was getting stronger, faster. Her eyes were sharper. The bruises inside her are still there, but no longer bleeding. She studied Philip’s network with Rafael every night, long hours poring over surveillance, wire transfers, and voice memos. She traced the names of the men who guarded him, who sold for him, who buried truths for him.

And she learned the city.

Not just the maps, but the rhythm. The language of its shadows. The scent of its filth. She visited Philip’s clubs wearing sunglasses and silk, her smile polite, her silence loaded. No one recognized her. Not yet.

But soon they would.

One night, in their penthouse, Mara stood on the balcony, dressed in a deep crimson robe, a glass of wine in hand. Below, the city buzzed with music and lies.

Rafael joined her, leaning on the rail beside her.

"You’re not the same woman I met," he said.

"No," she replied, sipping slowly. "She died with my son."

He studied her profile, the way the wind moved through her hair.

"I like this version," he said. "Dangerous. Calculated."

She gave him a look, half amused, half warning. "Don’t fall for a storm, Rafael. You’ll drown."

"Maybe I want to," he said, his voice like the heat between thunder and lightning.

She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. The silence between them was no longer empty. It was filled with things they didn’t dare speak yet because vengeance came first.

Love could wait.

Later that night, Rafael placed a folder on the table. "Philip is flying in tomorrow. Private event. Club Zenith."

Mara’s lips curled.

"Then tomorrow," she said, "we light the match." she has always being ready and more so she has waited for this moment for weeks and it was finally happening.