The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 177: The right thing

"Lucy, you need to leave," Caleb said firmly as he stepped through the door. His voice carried the weight of someone trying to draw a line, one he’d drawn before and failed to keep.

But then he saw her.

She lay stretched out on the couch, bare and deliberate, her skin glowing softly under the dim light. Her body was perfectly still, posed like a sculpture carved from temptation. She didn’t look at him...she didn’t need to.

His breath caught. His resolve faltered.

"What are you doing?" he asked, though part of him already knew.

"Just one last time," she whispered, her voice barely audible, laced with something between a plea and a dare.

Caleb stood there frozen, torn between reason and want. He hated how well she knew him, how she could still pull him in like gravity.

And then he moved.

His jacket dropped to the floor. The rest followed in a blur. He climbed onto the couch, his hands trailing along the curve of her back as she arched into him. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, her breath uneven, her body already responding to his.

He didn’t rush.

This time was slower... deeper. Not out of tenderness for Lucy, but because something in him was trying to chase a memory. Stefania. Her name pulsed at the back of his mind. He wasn’t with her, but in his mind, he wanted to be. Every move, every breath, every thrust was guided by the ghost of someone else.

Lucy, facedown against the cushions, moaned softly, muffled by the couch and the low music vibrating through the room. Her fingers gripped the armrest as their rhythm built, intense, deliberate, maddeningly slow.

Her body trembled as she let go, whispering his name like a promise. Caleb followed, buried in the moment, his body reacting even as his mind remained distant.

Afterward, she turned to him, her eyes hazy and smug. "That was... incredible," she said, voice still breathless. "You love me. I know you do."

But Caleb didn’t speak.

Because in his mind, it had never been Lucy beneath him.

And as the silence stretched, he realized he hadn’t returned to her.

He had simply lost himself again.

"I need some money," Lucy murmured, her voice soft but sharp at the edges. "And I want you to take me to get a new passport. Different identity."

Caleb’s face stayed still, unreadable as ever. A single nod. No words. Then he turned, walking out of the room without so much as a glance back.

Lucy smirked to herself, that familiar, dangerous satisfaction curling in her chest. I’ve got him again, she thought.

But Caleb wasn’t thinking of her, not then. The hot water hit his skin in steady, stinging streams as he stood beneath it, eyes closed, head bowed. The steam curled around him, blurring the edges of the man in the mirror of his mind. And for the first time in too long, he thought about his life. About how far he’d fallen, how far he’d been pushed.

He didn’t hear her come in.

Felt her, though—the slow, deliberate touch of an arm winding around his waist, the press of soft lips against the back of his neck. Her hands slid over him like water, tracing old paths, seeking new ones. Down, down, between his legs.

"Stop it, Lucy," Caleb said, his voice rough, cracked around the edges.

She laughed, a low, sultry sound against the steam. "When have you ever said no, Caleb? When have you ever gotten tired of this?"

There was a flicker in him then, rage, hunger, something darker and older than either. He turned, catching her wrist, pulling her hard against the glass shower door. The cold press of it against her back made her shiver, but it wasn’t fear in her eyes. It was delightful.

He didn’t speak again.

Didn’t need to.

The way he took her, fierce, desperate, like a man trying to fuck the ghosts out of his head, said everything.

Lucy’s legs trembled, her breath fogging up the glass, the taste of pleasure sharp as blood on her tongue.

And in that moment, neither of them was winning.

The morning light spilled lazily and golden through the half-drawn curtains. Lucy lay tangled in the sheets, her nightgown barely clinging to her body, one leg thrown carelessly over the edge of the bed. The room smelled of sex and cigarette smoke, the night’s sins still hanging thick in the air.

Out on the balcony, Caleb stood shirtless, a cigarette between his fingers, pants hanging low on his hips. The view stretched out before him, lights fading into the waking dawn, a world indifferent to the wreckage of the people moving through it.

He saw them coming before they made a sound.

Two black cars. No sirens. No rush. Just quiet, deliberate intent. The officers moved like shadows, their steps silent on the stairs, their faces unreadable. Caleb didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just took another drag of his cigarette, the ember flaring bright against the morning haze.

Inside, Lucy stirred, but didn’t wake.

The door burst open with a quiet force. No shouting, no chaos, just authority. She woke to the cold reality of a dozen police officers in her bedroom, their faces set, weapons holstered but ready.

"What the hell...?" she croaked, eyes darting from badge to badge. "Who—how?"

"You are under arrest," one of them said, voice flat and official. "For murder, attempted murder, and kidnapping."

Lucy’s heart slammed against her ribs. Her gaze flew to the balcony.

"Caleb," she cried, voice cracking. "Caleb, do something—"

But he didn’t move. Didn’t even turn his head.

A smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth, vanishing as quickly as it came.

"Let go of me!" Lucy shrieked as hands grabbed her, pulling her upright. Her nightgown clung to her skin, dangerously thin, and one officer glanced away before tossing a pair of sweatpants toward her.

"Put these on," he said, voice hard. "Or you’re leaving like that."

"You’re kidding me," she snapped. "You want me to change in front of you? Are you insane?"

"We’re not looking, ma’am," another officer muttered, eyes fixed firmly elsewhere. "Hurry up."

Lucy cursed under her breath, snatching the sweatpants and a pullover, shoving them over her nightgown, her movements sharp and angry. She felt the betrayal burn hotter than her fear.

"You crazy bastard," she snarled at Caleb as they dragged her out. "You’ll pay for this. I swear it."

Caleb flicked his cigarette away, the ember vanishing in a curl of smoke. He watched them go, then stepped back inside, the room still heavy with her scent, with the weight of what he’d done.

Maybe this would fix it. Maybe Mara would trust him again. It was a long shot. But it was all he had left.