The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 171: Failing the game

She was halfway down the hall when she heard it, the soft, almost desperate "Stef, wait."

Pathetic.

She didn’t stop. Not until she felt his hand around her wrist, fingers curling tight like they had any right, like they remembered what it was to touch her.

She turned slowly. One deadly movement.

And there he was, Caleb. The man who’d watched her world burn and did nothing but light another match.

His face was a mess, torn between shame and anger, and underneath it, something that might’ve been longing in another life. Too bad he murdered that version of himself.

"What now?" she asked coldly, yanking her wrist free like his touch was acid. "Here to beg? To apologize? To sell me another lie?"

He opened his mouth. Closed it.

Coward.

"Stef, I didn’t... I never wanted it to go this far," Caleb said, voice cracking under the weight of a hundred sins. "I didn’t know about the baby. Lucy lied to me. She—"

She laughed. God, she laughed so hard it echoed down the empty hall like a requiem.

"You didn’t know?" she spat. "You didn’t know when you stood by while Philip ripped my child from my body? You didn’t know when they made me believe he was dead, when I had buried a baby that wasn’t mine?"

He flinched. Good.

"I didn’t, Stef. I thought I was getting back at Ethan by taking Andrew, and because she left Lucy with no choice."

"There’s always a choice," she hissed, stepping close enough for him to smell the rage on her skin. "And you chose them. You chose comfort over courage. You chose yourself."

For a second, he looked like he might cry. And for a second, she felt nothing. Not pity. Not rage. Not the ache of what they might’ve been in another life.

Just emptiness.

"I loved you, Stef, you know that. I will never do anything to hurt you," he whispered.

"You don’t know the meaning of the word," she said. And she meant it.

She stepped back, head high, eyes gleaming in the low light. "This is the last time you’ll ever speak my name, Caleb. Next time I see you, pray it’s in a courtroom and not a grave."

And with that, she walked away.

This time, he didn’t follow.

He stormed into the room like a man possessed, the air still humming from the chaos Mara had left in her wake. Lucy was there, bruised, bloodied, mascara streaking down her cheeks in crooked lines, yet somehow still clutching onto that venom-laced smugness like it was designer silk.

"Look at what she did to me!" Lucy spat, gesturing to her face. "You just stood there, you useless bastard!"

"You brought this on yourself," Caleb growled, his voice low, dangerous, tired of her games.

But Lucy? Lucy was a master manipulator. She changed tactics faster than flipping a switch. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and her lip trembled like some damsel in distress in a bad movie. "Caleb... I lost our baby. And now... I’m about to lose Ethan, too."

Caleb clenched his jaw. He should’ve walked out. Should’ve left her to rot in her self-made misery. But instead, he stayed, listening like a fool.

"That was the only way to keep him, Caleb," she continued, her voice soft, desperate. "That’s why I took Mara’s baby. Because it was supposed to be mine. Mine and Ethan’s. Don’t you see? She took everything from us, you need to get revenge for our son."

He stiffened. "You used a dead baby for your sick power game."

"Our son!" she shrieked, standing up so fast the chair scraped the floor. "It’s their fault we lost him! Mara’s fault! You need to get over your obsession with her, she doesn’t want you! She looks at you like you’re dirt, Caleb. And me? I cared about you. I cared about your pretty face and your stupid loyalty. But you ruined both."

He blinked. Just once. And then his face turned to stone.

"Do your bruises hurt?" he asked, voice cold as ice.

"What kind of moronic question is that, of course it hurts!" Lucy snapped. "When the hell did that bitch get so strong?"

Without a word, Caleb gestured to a guard by the door. "First aid kit. Now."

He cleaned her wounds in silence, not because he cared, but because somewhere deep down, something told him this would be the last time. The last act of loyalty he’d waste on her.

"The police will come for me. We need to leave," Lucy whispered like a secret.

"They’ll come for you," Caleb corrected quietly. "I haven’t done anything wrong."

"Then why are you helping me?" she demanded, her voice cracking.

He didn’t even look up. "I cared about your pretty face. Now it’s ruined."

He stood, dropping the bloodied gauze on the table, and turned for the door.

"You can’t be serious, Caleb! Come back here, you sick bastard!" Lucy screamed after him.

But the door shut behind him with a final, satisfying click.

—

Mara stepped out of the villa with her head high, shoulders squared, and her heart still pounding like war drums in her chest. The dawn cracked against the horizon, bleeding pink and orange, and she breathed it in like victory. It was only a matter of time now; Lucy’s sins were catching up, and the police would be knocking soon.

At the entrance, she nearly collided with Steve. Both of them froze for a beat, stunned to find each other standing there in the flesh, battered by the same storm.

Steve was the first to move.

He pulled her into a fierce, bone-crushing hug, one hand tangled in her messy ponytail. "Did they hurt you?" His voice was low, trembling with rage. "I swear to God, I’ll kill her. I’ll end Lucy myself."

Mara leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, a crooked, dangerous grin flickering across her face. "You should’ve seen her face," she said, voice cool as ice, casual like she hadn’t just walked through hell.

Steve’s eyes widened. "Wait... did you beat the hell out of her?"

Mara didn’t answer. She just let the silence hang there, let their imaginations run wild. The bruises, the blood, the storm she left behind. The fury in their hearts cooled, replaced by something else: pride.

And as Mara turned and walked away, her brother’s lips curled into a smile. Not the kind you wear for polite company, no, this one was sharp, vengeful, proud.