The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Raindrops drummed a steady rhythm on the canvas above as Cathleen and Xavier stood shoulder-to-shoulder, ensnared in an uneasy truce beneath their shared umbrella. The water fountain before them, a marble spectacle, gushed obliviously to the tension that coiled tighter with each heartbeat.

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love this place,” Cathleen ventured, her voice cutting through the pelting rain with genuine curiosity.

Xavier’s response was swift, with a sharpened edge to his words. “I bought this house for you, Cathleen.” His insistence bore the weight of possession, of claims staked, and of expectations set.

Her gaze fixed upon the relentless cascade of the fountain, Cathleen tilted her chin up, meeting his stare with cool detachment. The gravity of his declaration failed to stir her; instead, it solidified her resolve. “Xavier, this whole marriage thing isn’t going to work.” Her words were scalpel-precise, severing illusions with surgical clarity. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. Your new offer and the two-year contract-I don’t think it will work.”

The chill of the rain seemed to seep into Xavier’s veins, his stoic facade crumbling as he processed her blunt honesty. “If I am being honest with you, I really want out.”

Silence swallowed her declaration-a heavy, suffocating blanket enveloped them both. Cathleen watched her lawyer’s mind catalog every micro-shift in his expression. She saw it then-the exact moment understanding dawned in his eyes, stark and irrevocable.

With a suddenness that echoed like a gunshot, Xavier’s hand moved. The umbrella, once their shared shelter, became his alone. Cathleen couldn’t believe that Xavier was that ruthless; removing the umbrella off her head because of her honesty was too much to bear. The transition was violent, a pointed act of abandonment that tore through the fragile armistice between them.

Cathleen stood motionless, watching his retreating form as he claimed sanctuary inside the house. The downpour embraced her willingly, droplets cascading over her features, indifferent to the cold void left in the wake of Xavier’s departure.

The water from the sky mingled with the spray from the fountain, blurring her vision. But Cathleen’s stance remained unyielding-a testament to her unwavering strength as she faced the storm alone.

The rain beat down on the pavement, each drops a sharp reminder of the heavy silence that lingered between them. Cathleen hugged herself tightly, trying to protect herself from both the raging storm outside and the one inside her. The cold seeped into her bones, mirroring the icy distance she felt from him. She felt like crying, her strength faltering under his penetrating stare.

He towered in the doorway, his silhouette a dark monument to their fractured love. Xavier’s eyes held a glint of something feral, a predator provoked by a small misunderstanding, savoring the scent of vulnerability that clung to her like the rain. “Are you coming in, or are you still enjoying the rain?” His voice carried the bite of winter, devoid of warmth, devoid of comfort.

Without saying a word, Cathleen brushed past him. The atmosphere was filled with unspoken accusations. The house stood in front of them, fully furnished and a reflection of his readiness for anything except her. Her body trembled involuntarily, not from the chilly air but from the sudden realization of how vulnerable she felt in his presence.

Xavier was completely engrossed in his iPad, his fingers moving with machine-like precision. In this digital world, emotions couldn’t reach him and couldn’t cause any pain. “We’ll be going home soon,” he finally said, still not looking up from the screen.

Cathleen nodded, the gesture as empty as the hollows of their marriage. In this house of glass and steel, she stood alone-an island amidst the storm-a lawyer who had never lost a case except the one that mattered most: his heart. Not that she wanted it; all she wanted was a happy home, even if they would never be husband and wife.

The engine died with a click, and the silence that followed was heavy, like the air before a storm. Xavier didn’t even bother to glance at Cathleen’s way; he simply exited the car, his movements efficient and detached. Inside, Cathleen’s grip tightened on her walking stick, a lifeline in the struggle to pry herself from the leather seat that cradled her like a mocking embrace. She did not wince as her boot met the wet pavement or when the rain kissed her cheeks with icy lips.

They entered the house, Xavier’s shadow swallowing hers. Before the door shut behind them, Olivia Williams materialized, her lithe body launching into Xavier’s arms. Her embrace was loud-a declaration meant to be seen.

Cathleen, however, had no audience to perform for. With eyes narrowed against the chill that had nothing to do with the downpour, she maneuvered past them, her ascent up the stairs silent but for the tap of wood on wood. Water dripped from her hair, each drops a quiet betrayal.

“Xavier, what is this that I’m hearing? Why would you buy a house for her when you don’t love her?” Olivia’s voice cut through the foyer, sharp with possession.

He peeled her off with a brusque shove, his expression steely. “Miss Williams,” he began, his tone a blade, “I don’t need permission from you to spoil my wife, yeah.” The words were a dismissal, a line drawn. “I thought I made it clear that you should know your place. You are here to satisfy my sexual needs, not to poke your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Olivia’s face was drained of color, her painted façade cracking under the weight of his scorn. Meanwhile, Cathleen’s retreat carried her out of sight, the echo of her steps a testament to her resolve, leaving behind the wreckage of a battle scene drawn in stark lines-love twisted, loyalty tested, and a war waged in the confines of a home that could never contain it all.

Rain clung to Cathleen like a second skin, her form trembling from the unrelenting cold and the storm that had nothing to do with the weather. She pushed through the door of her room, her strength waning but her pride unwavering. Her clothes, soaked and heavy, fell away in haste, leaving a trail of damp fabric leading to the sanctuary of the shower.ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

As the warm water flowed over her skin, Cathleen’s defenses crumbled. She couldn’t hold back her sobs any longer; their sound was muffled by the loud shower. The once unbreakable force in the courtroom now collapses against the cold tiles. Her tears mixed with the cascading droplets, masking the sounds of her despair. This sorrow was raw and fierce, a physical manifestation of the overwhelming betrayal she had experienced. It clawed at her insides, a constant reminder of the loveless and destructive relationship she was trapped in with her husband-a devil in the guise of a man named Xavier Knight.

She stood in the steamy shower, trying to shake off the icy chill that had settled into her bones from her husband’s coldness. The rain outside was nothing compared to the numbness she felt inside. She could feel her nose starting to clog as she struggled to breathe as if even the air was conspiring against her.

Exhausted from the deluge of emotion, Cathleen let the water cleanse the salt from her skin, the final vestiges of weakness circling the drain. She wrapped herself in solitude, donning it like armor, as she skipped the dinner she knew would be fraught with Olivia’s usual theatrics. Tonight, she didn’t have it in her to sit and fight with Olivia over a man who could never be hers. She was tired and just needed to go to sleep.

Silent as a shadow, Cathleen slipped between the sheets of her bed, the weight of her choices anchoring her to the mattress. In the darkness, she found temporary reprieve, the echoes of Olivia’s tantrums and Xavier’s loveless stares held at bay by exhaustion. For now, sleep was her only ally in a house where war brewed with hushed words and glacial glares.