The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 150: A baby for Andrew

"No," she said. "Let him live." Philip blinked, confused. She stood in front of him now, unflinching. No longer the frightened woman he had once controlled. No longer the grieving mother, he thought he had broken. No longer his.

"Because now," Mara whispered, leaning in so close he could feel her breath, "you get to watch me become everything you tried to destroy, not for long."

Her voice was low and calm, but behind it simmered rage sharpened to a blade.

"And your enemies?" She smiled coldly. "They’re going to love tearing you apart. One piece at a time."

Philip’s mouth twisted, trying to summon a cruel reply, some last pathetic jab, but before he could speak, the distant wail of sirens split the night.

Mara straightened, pulling on her coat like a queen cloaking herself in finality.

"Showtime," she said simply.

As she turned and walked out of the warehouse, the red and blue lights flashed across her face. Police vehicles screeched to a halt. Armed officers poured out like a coordinated swarm. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and justice long delayed.

"This is the place," she told the lead officer calmly, not even glancing back.

Inside, they would find everything: the ledgers, the offshore accounts, the drugs, the weapons, the entire empire Philip had built on pain and blood.

But this time, it was his blood staining the floor.

Mara watched as they swarmed in. She didn’t flinch when she heard him shouting inside, his voice growing more panicked by the second. She knew how this story would end.

In this country, there was no mercy for drug lords and money launderers. Not with the kind of evidence she had handed over. Not with the right names connected to every transaction. Not with every skeleton dragged out and laid bare.

This wasn’t just an arrest.

It was a burial.

And she was the one holding the shovel.

Finally, after a year of hiding, running, and grieving, she could breathe.

She could avenge Andrew.

She pulled out the small locket from under her blouse, "It’s done, baby," she whispered. "Mommy did it."

And just as the officers dragged Philip out, screaming and spitting as the cameras flashed, Mara stood tall in the rain, untouched, unmoved.

Vengeance didn’t bring back the dead. But it sure as hell made the living sleep a little easier.

---

The sterile walls of the hospital pressed in around Ethan like they were whispering secrets he didn’t want to hear. The doctor’s words still echoed in his ears.

"Andrew needs a bone marrow transplant. We haven’t found a donor match yet."

Ethan sat stiffly in the pediatric wing, his arm curled protectively around Andrew’s small arm.

The doctor continued, explaining the options: donor registries, family testing... and then, the last suggestion.

"In cases like this, some parents choose to conceive another child. A sibling has a higher chance of being a match."

Ethan didn’t react at first. He just stared at Andrew, brushing a lock of soft hair from his forehead. Another child? That was Lucy’s plan all along, wasn’t it?

He didn’t say a word on the way home.

He spent the entire afternoon and evening with Andrew, refusing meetings, calls, food, anything that wasn’t this child. He read to him, sang softly when Andrew whimpered in his sleep, and held him like it was the last day they’d ever get.

And then came the knock.

It was past midnight when Lucy slipped into his room. Her silk robe was tied loosely, her makeup gone, but the calculation in her eyes remained.

"We need to talk," she said, stepping inside without permission.

Ethan didn’t even look up from the whiskey glass in his hand.

Lucy took a breath. "You heard what the doctor said. We need to give Andrew a sibling. If they don’t find a match in time... we can’t risk losing him."

He finally looked at her. Slowly. Coldly. "And how exactly do you plan to give him a sibling, Lucy?" he asked, voice low. She hesitated. Just for a second.

"We can try again, just like the first time." "You are still delusional, Lucy. Get out." His voice was ice.

She froze.

The truth had always hovered in the air between them like smoke, but Ethan had never said it out loud until now. "I can’t stand you near me," he continued. "I never could. So tell me again how you plan to give Andrew a sibling?"

Lucy’s face tightened, but she didn’t back down. "I bet you could put your hate for me aside, you could do this for the son whom you love—"

"Don’t kid yourself," Ethan snapped, standing now, towering over her. "This has never been about Andrew. This is about you wanting a ring. A title. A name that doesn’t belong to you."

"I did all this for you-for us!" she hissed. "I gave you a son!"

"You gave birth to him," Ethan said quietly, "but you didn’t give him to me. You used him. You are using him. And the worst part?" He stared at her, disgust curling in his throat. "You’re willing to put his life on the line just to trap me in your bed."

Lucy’s mask cracked.

Tears welled, but not from heartbreak, from fury. From rejection. From failure.

"We have to do something!" she shouted. "If there’s no match—"

"There is a sibling already," Ethan cut in sharply. "Audrey. My wife and I still have a daughter."

Lucy’s entire body went still. "Your ex-wife, and you think Mara is going to agree for her daughter to be a donor for our son,"

Ethan looked past her now, like he couldn’t bear to see the venom swirling in her eyes. "We don’t need another baby. I just need to find Mara if it comes to that."

Lucy’s fists clenched. "That witch ran. She left you. Took your daughter and disappeared. You’re choosing her again? Mara hates you, me, and you think she will risk her only daughter’s life for my son, think Ethan, she is not that of a saint."

Ethan didn’t reply. He didn’t have to. His silence was answer enough.

Lucy stood frozen for a second longer, then turned on her heel, storming out of the room. The door slammed behind her, and her voice echoed down the hallway as she spat Mara’s name like it was poison.

Ethan sat back down.

He glanced at the silver picture frame on the desk, Audrey at two months, bundled up in pink. He whispered under his breath, almost a prayer.

"Where are you, Mara?"

—

Mara was curled up on the sofa, Audrey nestled in her lap, her tiny fingers gripping the edge of a stuffed giraffe. The news on the TV still replayed footage of Philip being dragged out by police, shouting, bloodied, and very much done for.

The headlines were bold:

"INTERNATIONAL CRIMINAL PHILIP SHEPHERD FINALLY ARRESTED"

"SUSPECT FACES LIFE OR DEATH PENALTY FOR GLOBAL DRUG AND MONEY LAUNDERING CHARGES"

Mara exhaled softly, brushing a curl from Audrey’s forehead.

Finally.

Then her phone buzzed. Incoming Video Call: Her Brothers. Mara smiled and accepted.

The screen lit up with four chaotic faces stacked together: Steve, Stanley, Stefan, and Stanford, each looking like they’d just finished arguing over who had the better beard oil.

"Well, well, look at the Lady of Vengeance herself," Steve grinned.

"She didn’t just take him down," Stanley added with mock drama, "She walked out like a Bond villain. I’m proud of you, sis."

"Honestly? I replayed the footage five times," Stanford admitted. "Right away, we knew it had your signature all over it."

Stefan, the quietest of the bunch, simply smiled. "Justice finally feels real." Mara laughed softly, warmed by their pride. "I missed you guys."

"Not as much as we missed this little peanut!" Steve pointed accusingly, eyes scanning for Audrey. "Where is my favorite little niece?" Mara lifted Audrey, who blinked at the screen with a gummy smile and then waved her giraffe like a queen greeting her people.

"Audrey!" all four brothers yelled.

"She’s almost a year old," Stanley said with a hint of disbelief. "I swear she was just a bump in your belly like five seconds ago."

"Can she say ’Uncle Steve is the favorite’ yet?" Steve asked.

Mara rolled her eyes. "She can say no. She uses it on men who talk too much."

"Sounds like you," Stanley said, smirking.

Just then, Audrey began to fuss slightly. The nanny appeared quietly at the doorway. Mara handed her over gently.

"Okay, spill," Stanford said once the baby was out of earshot. "How are you? We saw everything on the news. You were fired, we are glad all this is over... how do you feel? When are you coming home?"

Mara leaned back, running a hand through her hair. "I don’t know yet. Relieved, maybe. Tired. But not broken."

"And Rafael?" Steve asked slyly, brows wagging. Mara’s lips curved unconsciously. "He stepped out to get something..."

Stanley leaned forward. "Are you two...?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don’t know what we are. But he holds a special place in my heart. He’s been patient. He’s kind. He’s... there and you know..."