The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 154: Do one last act of Mercy

Philip sat in chains, panting, sweat on his brow. He stared at the wall with wide, haunted eyes. For the first time in his life... he was afraid. He had never wanted to die.

Not before his child has accepted him. Not before they had spent time together, not before he had walked her down the aisle and held his grandchildren. He couldn’t die, not yet, and this person had no right to kill him, no, they don’t, he tries to convince himself.

The air was cold. Sterile. The smell of bleach clung to the walls, mixing with the heavy silence.

Mara sat on one side of the thick glass barrier, the phone to her ear, trembling slightly in her hand. Across from her, Philip sat chained, dressed in orange, his eyes hollow but still burning with defiance.

He looked older. Tired. But not repentant. Mara swallowed hard and brought the phone to her ear.

"Please, uncle," she said softly. "This is it. They’re taking you soon. I’m not here for revenge anymore. I just want to know where my son is. He’s your blood, Philip. Yours and mine. If there’s any part of you still human..."

Philip stared at her, unreadable.

"You think appealing to family will move me?" he asked, voice cold. "We stopped being family the moment you betrayed me."

Mara’s voice broke. "You stole my baby. You made me believe he was dead. I lived with that grief every single day."

She paused. "But if he’s alive... he deserves to know who he is. To know he’s loved."

Philip leaned forward slowly, resting his chin on the edge of his cuffed hands.

"You’ll never find him," he said with a soft, almost smug whisper. "Even when he’s right under your nose."

Mara’s eyes widened. Her lips parted as if to ask more, but the guards were already entering.

"Time’s up."

Philip stood, and for the first time, the fear in his eyes was almost drowned out by something else: satisfaction.

As they escorted him out, he turned slightly over his shoulder.

"Good luck, sweet niece, my greatest regret is making you live," he said, grinning grimly. "The clock’s ticking."

And just like that, he was gone, down the corridor, toward the chamber where justice would finally be carried out. Mara stares at him in tears. "Please, uncle, do one last act of mercy, tell me where my son is," But none of that moved him. He had lost, but this doesn’t feel like a win to Mara

Mara stepped out into the gray morning light, the weight of his final words pressing down on her like a boulder.

"Right under your nose..." Steve was waiting for her beside the car, Rafael pacing not far off with Audrey in his arms. She walked straight to them, her face pale.

"He said... he’s right under my nose," she whispered.

Rafael’s brows furrowed. "What does that mean?" Steve clenched his jaw. "It means we dig everywhere. No stone unturned. Every document, every child adopted during that period, every hospital file, every buried secret." Mara nodded numbly. Her son was alive. She knew it now.

She just had to find him before it was too late.

—

The rain had just begun to fall, sharp and cold, soaking through Lucy’s thin jacket as she stumbled down the sidewalk. Her heels were broken, her makeup smeared from crying, and her stomach twisted painfully with hunger.

Her lips trembled with fury.

"He’ll regret it," she hissed to herself. "Ethan will regret throwing me out. I gave him a son. I deserve that child. He belongs with me."

People passed her by, not even sparing a glance. Her phone battery had died hours ago, not that anyone had answered her calls. Every door she’d once slammed on others now stayed firmly shut in her face.

She was alone.

Until she saw her.

Louisa.

Clean, polished, confident. Walking out of a fancy café with a leather bag slung over her shoulder and that same no-nonsense look Lucy remembered from their days at the firm.

Louisa stopped short when she saw her, eyes narrowing. Lucy’s lips curled, a bitter smirk forming.

"Well, well. If it isn’t Louisa," she said, voice cold. "Didn’t think I’d see you again." Louisa didn’t flinch. "Trust me, I prayed I never would."

"Still mad I got you fired?" Lucy mocked, trying to cover the tremble in her voice. "You really should thank me. I heard you ended up in a better place...huh?"

Louisa’s eyes darkened.

"You ruined my life, and you call that a better place. I work as a stripper thanks to you," Louisa said, stepping closer, her voice lower and colder now. "And you almost got me killed, I will never forgive you, karma will catch up with you just as it did to me."

Lucy’s eyes widened for a split second. She knew the story. Louisa and Bruce’s sex tape during the Anderson gala. A plan Lucy initiated for Mara.

"You’re lucky because I found myself a man who will support me for life," Louisa snapped.

But then, Lucy’s lips trembled again, this time, not in arrogance. In fear.

"Please," she whispered, the anger slipping into desperation. "I have nothing. No money. No home. Ethan threw me out... and I don’t have anyone."

Louisa didn’t speak for a moment.

Then slowly, she turned away. "Good. Maybe now you’ll feel what it’s like to be powerless. To be thrown out. To be nothing." She walked away without looking back; seeing Lucy like that was enough revenge for her.

And Lucy stood in the rain, soaked, cold, and trembling... but now with something new in her eyes.

Hatred. And a plan.

"I’ll get Andrew back," she swore. "I’ll take everything from Ethan... even if it means crawling back through fire to do it. Lucy tugged her coat tighter around her, but the soaked fabric clung to her like a second skin, outlining every curve. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone as she made her way through the narrow street, each step faster than the last.

A group of men at a nearby corner paused mid-conversation. Their eyes latched onto her like wolves catching scent of prey. She caught them from the corner of her eye, the leering, the whispers. "Damn..." one muttered.

"Need help, sweetheart?" another asked, stepping forward with a crooked grin. She stopped for a second. Tired. Cold. Furious.

"How about you help yourself and look the other way?" she snapped, her voice sharp like broken glass. They laughed, low and slow. The kind that made her stomach twist.

Lucy began walking faster, her fists clenched, her heart pounding. Her body was exhausted, but her instincts kicked in. She turned onto a busier street, hoping to lose them in the crowd.

Just then, headlights cut through the gloom. A patrol car rolled into view like a gift from the gods. The group scattered like roaches.

Lucy let out a shaky breath. The officer rolled down his window, squinting at her.

"Miss, are you alright?" She nodded, offering the tightest of smiles. "Yeah. I’m okay now."

But as the car drove off, she looked down at herself. Water is still dripping. Makeup smudged. Hair clinging to her face.

And yet... There was fire in her eyes.

"Let them look," she muttered under her breath. "They’ll learn soon enough, I’m not the one to prey on."

The alley reeked of garbage and something worse. Lucy kept her eyes down, clutching her soaked bag tightly. She had heard whispers of a place, a den where people with no options went. She didn’t ask questions.

She needed money. Fast. A man in a leather jacket, covered in tattoos and scars, watched her with a twisted smile as she approached the door.

"What do you want?" he grunted. "Work," Lucy said. "Anything. I can handle myself."

The man raised a brow and opened the door with a chuckle. "We’ll see about that."

The inside was worse than she imagined: red lights, sweat, smoke, and shadows. The music pulsed low and heavy like a heartbeat waiting to stop. The place was owned by a mafia group known as the Crime Bulls men, who smiled with knives in their pockets.

Lucy had no idea what she walked into.

She tried to steal from them. A quick snatch from an unlocked office safe, thinking she’d slip away unnoticed. She didn’t even make it to the back door.

They caught her. Brutally. But they didn’t kill her. Staring at her face carefully, she had a pretty face and a body people would pay millions for.

"You want to eat?" the boss, a slick man named Dano, growled. "Then you earn. On the floor. Now."

"Please... I’m begging you. Just let me go," Lucy whispered, her voice trembling, but her eyes defiant.

Dano, the infamous mafia boss, said nothing. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for the guards to leave the room. The door clicked shut, leaving only the two of them, predator and prey, though which was which had yet to be decided.

"I can help you," Lucy said quickly, voice steadier now. "I have contacts, influence, I could be your lawyer, your fixer... whatever you need. But I’m not a stripper. I come from a powerful family." Her tone shifted, pride flickering through the fear.

Dano’s cold stare didn’t budge. "And yet, here you are. In my club. With my money in your bag."

"I didn’t steal from you," she said, lifting her chin. "I was trying to survive."

He stepped closer. She flinched but didn’t retreat.

"You’re lucky I didn’t kill you," Dano murmured. "How do you propose to repay that debt?"

Lucy hesitated... then pivoted.

"I know what you want," she said, voice low, eyes locking on his. "You’ve been looking at me since I walked in. Let’s stop pretending. You want me? Fine. But I don’t come cheap. I’m worth more than every woman you’ve ever paid to keep quiet."

He raised a brow, amused at her boldness, but didn’t smile. Instead, he stepped closer, slow, deliberate, like a storm approaching.

Her breath hitched. She thought she could manipulate him, bend him with seduction, but the silence between them turned electric.

He reached for her, not with violence, brushing a damp lock of hair from her face. The intimacy of the gesture unsettled her more than a threat ever could.

She turned, walking deliberately to the velvet couch, her dress clinging to her rain-soaked skin. Every movement was calculated, a performance meant to distract, to lure, to survive.

But Dano wasn’t fooled.

He crossed the room in two long strides, undoing his belt, gripping her gently but firmly by the wrist. "You’re brave," he said. "I’ll give you that."

Before she could speak, he pulled her to him, their bodies inches apart. "But don’t mistake interest for mercy."

He tore her clothes down in one motion, scooping her up like she weighed nothing. With a brutal first thrust, he was inside her deep, relentless, giving her exactly what she’d begged for. He didn’t hold back. Each movement was punishing, urgent, and when he finally pulled out, her legs gave out beneath her, trembling and spent.

And just like that, Lucy became property. A dancer at the Diamond Cage, where men paid to forget their sins... and women paid for theirs.