The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 169: Face off

Mara let out a soft, trembling breath, the kind that felt like it had been lodged in her chest for a lifetime.

A year.

A whole year of swallowing pain sharp enough to cut through bone. A year of carrying the image of her baby, yanked from her body and thrown into flames, a memory so jagged it left her bleeding on the inside, unseen and unhealed.

That kind of pain... it doesn’t fade.

It rewrites you.

Turns the girl who loved too easily and forgave too much into a storm with no mercy.

Philip had paid for his sins. Paid in blood. But there was still another debt to be collected.

And tonight, she’d come to settle it.

Mara wiped the tears from her face, her expression hardening like cooling steel. She turned away from the closed door and the guards closing in, walking with unshaken steps down the long corridor. She moved like a ghost, weightless but deadly, toward the back of the estate — toward the space she’d spotted earlier. The one where Lucy and Caleb had been whispering, scheming, hiding.

She knew she’d find her there.

Lucy paced the room like a woman possessed, her pulse hammering in her ears. She wrung her hands, muttering under her breath.

"Relax," Caleb said from the couch, lounging with that smug, lazy smile he always wore when danger felt like a game. "Ethan’s not getting anywhere near our son. Let him bark all he wants — the guards’ll put him down before he even steps foot inside."

"You idiot," Lucy snapped, whirling on him. "You don’t know Ethan like I do! He’s not normal — he’s crazy! And if he finds a way in—"

"You better shut your damn mouth about Ethan," Caleb cut her off, his voice sharp now, that easy grin wiped clean. "I swear to God, you keep bringing him up and—"

"Then do something, you useless bastard!" Lucy screamed, fury boiling over. "You’re good for one thing and even that you can’t manage!"

Their voices clashed like clanging steel, ugly and loud, while beyond the door, Mara was listening.

Silent. Patient. Waiting for her moment.

Then Caleb’s phone buzzed, the sharp vibration cutting through the tension like a blade.

"What?" he barked, snatching it up.

The guard’s voice crackled on the other end.

"There’s a woman in the house."

Caleb’s brow furrowed.

"A woman? Who the hell—" Then it clicked.

Mara.

"Listen," he said quickly, standing. "Don’t lay a hand on her. I’m coming myself." He shot a final glare at Lucy. "Stay here and shut up."

"I swear to God, Caleb—"

"Just stay put!"

He slammed the door behind him, leaving Lucy seething. She paced for another beat, heart pounding, then gave in to her paranoia. She needed to see Andrew. Just in case.

Lucy reached for the door — and before her hand could even grasp the knob, an arm shot out of the shadows.

A hand clamped over her mouth.

She was yanked backward, dragged into a dark room, and the door slammed shut behind them.

It happened so fast she didn’t have time to scream, didn’t have time to think.

But when she looked up, and her eyes adjusted to the dim light...

There was Mara. And she wasn’t smiling. Not even a little.

"It’s you!" Lucy screeched the moment her eyes locked on Mara. "You crazy bitch! You actually think you can get out of here? Open this door now!"

Mara didn’t flinch. She calmly grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it under the handle, locking them in. Her movements were smooth, methodical. That unnerved Lucy more than anything.

"You and I," Mara said, voice low and steady, "have a score to settle."

Lucy scoffed, masking her unease with venom.

"God, you’re pathetic." She smirked, strutting toward her, eyes glinting like a snake about to strike. "Now that Ethan doesn’t want you, you’re after Caleb, too? Poor, poor Mara. Still chasing scraps. Your baby boy? Burned. Gone. While my son, Ethan and my son is alive and well."

She watched, waiting for Mara to crack. To flinch. To shatter.

But Mara only smiled.

A small, cold, unsettling smile.

Lucy’s words kept coming, poison dripping from every syllable. It was what she was best at — weaponizing words.

"While you were mourning your dead child, Ethan and I were busy making another. We spent nights tangled in each other, trying for a little sibling for sweet Andrew. I might even be pregnant as we speak." She let out a cruel, breathy laugh. "How does that feel, Mara? All those men who once adored you, now wrapped around my fingers. Poor thing — did your new boy toy fail to satisfy you? I bet he’s nothing like Ethan."

Lucy stepped closer, lowering her voice to a taunting whisper.

"You remember, don’t you? His touch... intoxicating. His grip, those lips... God, nothing compares."

She was painting the picture vividly, trying to twist the knife.

But Mara didn’t break.

Didn’t even blink.

She just let the silence stretch, that smile lingering on her lips like a storm cloud about to burst. And when she finally spoke, her voice was softer than a whisper but sharp enough to cut bone.

"Done?" Mara asked, tilting her head. The air shifted. Lucy faltered for half a second. And that... was all Mara needed.

"I won’t be surprised if you miss that," Lucy spat, stalking closer to Mara, her heels clicking against the floor like warning shots. "But you’re so damn wrong if you think you can walk in here and get your little revenge. None of them wants you, Mara. Not Ethan. Not Caleb. No one. And I swear to God, I’m going to make you regret every second you’ve breathed since you crawled back into my life."

Mara didn’t move. Didn’t even uncross her arms. She just stared, unbothered, like a predator watching prey throw its last tantrum.

"Yeah, yeah," Mara finally said, her voice low, cool, and laced with a dark amusement. "You got sicker these last few months. Delusional too." She let out a small, humorless laugh. "Congratulations, Lucy — you’ve collected everything I left behind. My scraps. My leftovers."

Lucy’s face twisted, but Mara didn’t stop.

"And you’re here, parading around like you’ve won something. Sweetheart... you’re nothing but a cheap, convenient fuck to Ethan. And Caleb? Please. The only thing you’re good for is whatever position lets a man finish the fastest." She smiled, a sharp, cutting thing. "And when he’s done, it doesn’t even matter which hole they use, does it?"