The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 52: Ladies and Gentlemen, My wife

The grand ballroom of the old Anderson mansion was alive with the hum of laughter and clinking glasses.

Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the room, their light reflecting off the polished mahogany walls and the gold-framed portraits of the Anderson family lineage.

Associates from the firm mingled with junior lawyers, all dressed in their finest, celebrating the victory of the most difficult case the firm had seen in years. The air was thick with anticipation—everyone was waiting for the man of the hour, Ethan Anderson.

Steph, Ethan’s assistant, stood near the entrance, nervously checking his watch. He had suggested the mansion as the venue, thinking its historic grandeur would be the perfect backdrop for such a momentous occasion, and as well to help Ethan deal with Mr. Anderson Sr. But now, with Ethan running late, he could feel the tension building.

Mr. Anderson Sr., the patriarch of the Anderson family, stood in the center of the room, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. His silver hair and tailored suit gave him an air of authority, but his clenched jaw betrayed his impatience. He turned to Steph, his voice cutting through the chatter like a blade.

"Steph," he barked, his tone icy. "Where is that grandson of mine? He’s the reason we’re all here, and yet he can’t be bothered to show up on time?"

Steph swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile. "He’s on his way, Mr. Anderson. He texted me a few minutes ago. He should be here any moment."

Mr. Anderson Sr. huffed, his displeasure evident. "Unacceptable. This is a celebration of his victory, and he’s keeping everyone waiting."

Across the room, Ethan’s mother, Bella Anderson, leaned against the bar, her elegant gown shimmering under the chandelier light.

She held a glass of champagne in one hand, her expression a mix of amusement and resignation. She knew her son well—too well.

And she knew that wherever Ethan was, drama wasn’t far behind with his ongoing divorce with Mara, she wondered how he was going to bring her to the party. She caught the eye of a passing waiter and snatched another glass from his tray, downing it in one swift motion.

"Better fortify myself," she muttered under her breath, her lips curling into a wry smile. "The show’s about to start."

Just as the murmurs of impatience began to ripple through the crowd, the double doors at the entrance swung open. All eyes turned as Ethan Anderson stepped into the room, his trademark confidence radiating from him. But it wasn’t just his presence that caught everyone’s attention—it was the woman on his arm.

Mara.

She was stunning, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her white suit catching the light with every step. But it wasn’t her beauty that caused the room to fall silent—it was the way Ethan held her, his arm wrapped possessively around her waist, his gaze lingering on her as if no one else in the room mattered.

The silence was deafening. Bruce’s eyes widened in shock. Jason’s face turned a shade of crimson. Lucy let out a low, knowing chuckle, reaching for another glass of champagne.

"Well," she said to no one in particular, "here we go."

Ethan, oblivious or perhaps indifferent to the tension he’d just walked into, flashed his trademark grin. "Sorry I’m late," he said, his voice smooth as silk. "Traffic was a nightmare."

No one responded. All eyes were darting between Ethan and Mara, questions hanging in the air like unspoken accusations.

Mara, for her part, was shocked, here is everyone she works with in the firm, it seems Ethan was planning to make their relationship public. All eyes were on her. She smiled politely, her gaze sweeping the room with a quiet confidence that only added to the mystery, she couldn’t make a scene.

Ethan’s grandfather was the first to break the silence, his voice low and amused.

"Ethan. Is she—"

Ethan raised an eyebrow, his grin unwavering. "Yes, Grandfather. But first, let me introduce you properly." He turned to the room, his voice clear and confident. "Ladies and gentlemen, my wife."

A wave of hushed whispers spread across the room like wildfire.

Bruce’s jaw nearly hit the floor.

Lucy let out a sharp laugh, the kind that was equal parts disbelief and concealed frustration.

And Jason? His entire body stiffened, his expression darkening as if he might explode at any second.

Mr. Anderson, however, was unfazed. Instead, he beamed. His sharp eyes softened with genuine delight as he extended a hand.

"My granddaughter-in-law," he said warmly.

"Come here, let me have a look at you."

Mara stood frozen for a beat, her mind racing.

She turned to Ethan, searching his face for answers, for anything—but all she found was that same easy smile. The same effortless confidence that made her heart ache.

He had done it again.

He had blindsided her.

Just hours ago, they were standing at the edge of a divorce. And now? He had just announced their marriage to the entire law firm. In front of everyone who mattered.

Her pulse pounded as she caught the stares boring into her.

Bruce—his eyes filled with something she recognized all too well. Desire. He had been catching feelings for her for a while now.

Lucy—rage flickering behind her polite smile. She had always been in love with Ethan, and at this moment, Mara knew she’d probably kill her if given the chance.

And Jason. Mara’s adopted brother. His gaze lingered too long, filled with something dark, unsettling. Jason had always been the type to believe everything—and everyone—was his for the taking.

And yet, despite their differences, all three of them had one thing in common.

Fear.

Fear of what this meant. Fear of her.

Mara swallowed hard and forced a smile. She may have been caught off guard, but she wouldn’t let them see her break.

Not here. Not now. Because one thing was certain—whatever game Ethan was playing, she was now right in the middle of it.

"Son, how did you convince her?" Mrs. Anderson’s voice slurred slightly, her half-empty glass swaying in her hand.

"Because honestly, I thought your grandfather was going to make a scene if you didn’t bring her."

Ethan exhaled, shaking his head as he reached for a glass of water. "I just did, Mother. And it’s too early to be this drunk."

Mrs. Anderson—Bella, as she preferred to be called, rolled her eyes, taking another sip despite his disapproval. "Give me a break. Just your grandfather? You think you can tell me what to do?" She scoffed. "Well, whatever you did, I’m just glad Mara is still putting up with you."

There was something knowing in her tone, something that hinted at understanding more than she let on.

Ethan watched as she walked away, her silk gown trailing behind her, leaving only the faint scent of expensive perfume.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before his gaze instinctively found Mara.

She was still talking with his grandfather, laughing softly at something he said.

Ethan’s brows lifted slightly.

Mara, laughing with his grandfather?

That was rare.

He knew exactly how difficult the old man could be. Stubborn, sharp, and demanding—few people ever held conversations with him so effortlessly. Yet here Mara was, holding her own, her expression relaxed, her posture open.

For a moment, something warm settled in Ethan’s chest.

Pride. He was proud of her.

And maybe, just maybe... a little terrified of what that meant.

—

Mara took a steady breath as she stepped forward, placing her hand gently in Mr. Anderson Sr.’s outstretched one. His grip was firm but kind, his sharp eyes studying her with a mixture of curiosity and warmth.

"You are even more stunning up close," he said with a chuckle, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom and years of experience.

"Ethan has always had good taste, though I must say, he’s never brought a woman home quite like you."

Mara smiled politely. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, you should." He gestured for her to sit beside him, and she obliged, feeling a surprising sense of ease in his presence. "Tell me, my dear, what do you do? Ethan never quite explained, but I can tell you’re a woman with a sharp mind."

Mara’s smile became more genuine. "I’m a lawyer," she said. "Corporate law, mostly."

His eyes twinkled. "Ah, impressive. A woman who holds her own in a world of wolves." He nodded approvingly. "I like that."

Mara felt an odd sense of pride at his words. Unlike many in this room, he wasn’t looking at her with judgment or hidden agendas—just genuine interest.

"You must visit me more often," he continued. "The Anderson men can be... difficult, but a strong woman knows how to handle that."

Mara let out a soft laugh. "Difficult is one way to put it."

Just as she was starting to relax, a familiar presence loomed over her.

"Grandfather, as much as I appreciate you stealing my wife," Ethan’s voice was smooth, laced with amusement, "I’m afraid I have to steal her back."

Mara’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked up at him. "Steal? I don’t recall belonging to anyone."

Ethan smirked, leaning down slightly. "Then let’s say I’m borrowing you."

Mr. Anderson chuckled, shaking his head.

"Ah, young love. Go on, go on. But Mara," he added, his expression softening, "don’t be a stranger. I’d love to talk more."

Mara nodded. "I’d like that."

Ethan took her hand before she could protest, effortlessly pulling her away from the conversation and into the grand hall.

And just like that, she was back in his world.

"Nice play, Ethan," Mara whispered, her voice edged with quiet frustration.

Ethan exhaled, tilting his head toward her. "He wanted to see you," he murmured, keeping his expression unreadable. "And if I didn’t bring you, he wasn’t going to let me breathe."

Mara narrowed her eyes. "You know that’s not what I mean." She took a step back, searching his face. "Our marriage, Ethan. What was the point of announcing it if it was going to end?"

Ethan only smiled that knowing, infuriating smile of his, before wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her close as if nothing was wrong.

All eyes were on them.

Meanwhile, across the room, Lucy was losing her grip on both her drink and her emotions.

She turned sharply to Steph, her voice thick with bitterness. "Did you know?" she demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, she let out a harsh laugh. "Of course you knew. Even after working with the Shephard, he still wants to be married to her?"

Steph sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Take it easy with the drink, Lucy. And don’t act like Ethan gave you any hope—" He gave her a pointed look. "Or led you on. That was all in your head."

Lucy’s grip on her glass tightened.

"He loves his wife," Steph continued firmly.

"So if you still want to be in his life as a friend, I suggest you break that obsession off. Fast."

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving Lucy stewing in her own misery.

Spotting Mara, Steph’s mood instantly lightened. He grinned, approaching her with genuine warmth. "Hey, Mara, you look great. And now I can officially call you Mrs. Anderson."

Mara’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Stop, Steph. Don’t act like you don’t know what’s happening." Her voice was tired, distant. "Because you do."

Before he could respond, she excused herself, heading toward the washroom—needing a moment to breathe.

"Mrs. Anderson."

The voice was familiar—slightly slurred, definitely drunk.

Mara turned on her heel, her eyes landing on Bruce.

"When were you going to tell me?" His voice carried a quiet sting, disappointment laced between the alcohol and unspoken words.

Mara sighed. "I was going to, Bruce. It just... didn’t come up. I—"

Before she could finish, Ethan appeared beside her.

She wasn’t surprised.

Of course, he wouldn’t leave her alone—not after everything. Not when the fear of losing her still clung to him like a shadow.

Bruce stiffened immediately, his gaze shifting toward Ethan. The easy confidence he usually carried wavered, his voice unsteady as he muttered, "Mr. Anderson."

Ethan said nothing—just stared, silent and unmoving.

Bruce hesitated for a second before turning and walking away, muttering under his breath.

Mara exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. "What, are you following me to the washroom too?"

Ethan smirked. "I would if I had to."

Mara rolled her eyes. "Unbelievable."

"Protective," he corrected smoothly. "There’s a difference."

Mara turned away, unwilling to entertain him any further. But even as she walked off, she could feel Ethan’s eyes on her, watching.

Mara stepped into the washroom, only to be caught off guard when the door locked behind her. Initially, she thought Ethan was playing a prank, but as she strained to hear the voice on the other side, she realized it wasn’t him. Confusion and concern began to wash over her.