Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 114: Familiar

Chapter 114: Familiar

SEVEN YEARS AGO

Lorenzo rushed out of class, intending to freshen up at home before heading to work. His boss had called earlier, mentioning a few customers were already waiting at the salon.

He still found it amusing how customers insisted on getting their haircuts from him—even with Evans available.

In the beginning, all that attention made him uncomfortable, and he would often redirect them to Evans. But Evans had reassured him that he didn’t mind. In fact, he said he was proud of how far Lorenzo had come in such a short time.

A few months after his family moved out of Bronze City, Lorenzo had met Evans on a public bus. He’d been heartbroken and exhausted, returning from yet another failed job interview, barely holding himself together beneath the weight of the ill-luck that kept following him.

Evans had approached him, taken a liking to him, and after hearing his story, offered to train him as a barber—for free. He even paid him a small stipend throughout his apprenticeship. Now, nearly two years later, Lorenzo still worked beside him, grateful for the man’s kindness and generosity. It had helped him support his mother and cover expenses not handled by his scholarship.

As he stepped out of the departmental building, he unenthusiastically ran into the last person he wanted to see—his annoying coursemate, Mason Munroe.

"Hey, darling, wassup? Where you rushing to?" Mason asked, eyes trailing over Lorenzo in a way that made his skin crawl.

Lorenzo shot him a glare. He’d warned him more than once to stop calling him that. The endearment and Mason’s sensual tone annoyed the hell out of him. But he suspected that was the point. He enjoyed reeling him.

"Hey, Mason," Lorenzo muttered dismissively, walking past without breaking stride. He had no interest in wasting a second listening to whatever irritating comment would come next.

The dude had been making advances at him since year one. And despite every rejection, he persisted. Lorenzo didn’t even blame him anymore—this university was filled with rich, spoiled kids who believed money could buy them anything. Or anyone.

His phone beeped a few steps later. He glanced at the screen. A text from Mason:

"You look even cuter when you frown. Still hoping you’ll consider my proposal, darling...kisses."

Lorenzo’s face twisted in disgust. Jaw tightening, he raised a middle finger in his direction. Predictably, Mason only looked more amused, mouthing the word "Gladly."

He shook his head and walked faster, fists clenched. People were starting to look, and he hated drawing attention. But Mason lived to get under his skin—and unfortunately, it was working.

At this rate, he was just waiting for him to make the wrong move—so he could beat the shit out of him and finally teach him a lesson about respecting people’s boundaries.

The campus bustled with activity as he made his way to the shuttle bus area and boarded one. Settling into a seat, he pulled out his phone and dialed Kayla’s number, wondering why she hadn’t shown up to class. She hadn’t been answering his calls either, which was unusual.

Since they’d started dating, she always let him know when she’d be absent.

He decided to stop by her apartment on the way, hoping to see her—maybe even shower and head to work from there. But when he arrived, he found the place locked.

His frustration grew. He wanted to wait, but he had customers already waiting for him at the salon.

Heading for home, he dropped by Christian’s apartment to deliver some material he had asked him to pick up from a coursemate.

Christian’s home, a tastefully furnished bungalow, screamed wealth—just like everything else about him. But as Lorenzo stepped inside, a soft, slow melody floated through the air—calm and completely out of character. Christian usually blasted music so loud it threatened to tear down the roof.

The atmosphere felt...off. But the air-conditioning was a welcome relief from the harsh weather outside.

"Chris, what’s going on, man?" Lorenzo called out as he moved toward the living room, a teasing smile on his lips. "This is strange—but a good change. I’m definitely starting to rub off on you."

He expected Christian’s usual comeback in return.

Instead, he was greeted by a soft, breathy sound—a girl’s moan.

He was caught off guard for a moment. Then rolled his eyes.

Of course. This was Christian’s house, after all. The guy practically lived to fuck.

Chuckling quietly, he turned to leave. He’d come back with the material later—after work. Interrupting his best friend’s...entertainment...was the last thing he wanted to do.

But just as he reached the door, a voice made him pause.

It was... familiar.

His brows drew together. Maybe he was hearing things?

"Ah! Baby, faster!"

Louder now. More urgent. More familiar.

A chill ran down his spine. No. No, it couldn’t be. Kayla would never...

She hated Christian’s lifestyle. Always complained about his womanizing ways. They barely tolerated each other whenever they crossed paths at Lorenzo’s apartment.

They couldn’t possibly be...

No. It wasn’t her. He shook his head quickly, trying to push away the doubt—the knot tightening in his gut.

It wasn’t her, he told himself again.

Christian was just with some girl who happened to sound like Kayla.

That was all it was.

As Lorenzo turned the door handle, he paused again. Christian’s voice echoed through the hallway, rough and commanding.

"You love it, don’t you?"

"Yes... uh... just hit me harder!" came the breathless response.

Lorenzo shut his eyes, his palms suddenly clammy.

"Tell me I fuck better than him."

"You’re the only one who knows how rough I love it... ah...!"

Lorenzo’s stomach turned. The realization that Christian was screwing someone else’s girlfriend hit him like a punch to the gut. Disgust and anger tangled in his chest.

He imagined it being his girlfriend and he almost clawed at his face.

A wave of nausea crashed over him, his heart thudding violently, screaming at him to leave. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not yet. He needed proof. Needed to be sure that the unlucky dude wasn’t him.

His forehead dampened with sweat, fist clenched tight as he turned and walked back towards the living room. The sounds grew louder, and so did the unease in the pit of his stomach.

But all he wanted was to confirm he was wrong— to prove it was just a voice that sounded familiar. Just a coincidence. And then he’d leave without them ever knowing.

But the closer he got, the more this throat tightened.

The air grew heavier. The smell of sex, sweat, and Christian’s cologne lingered, making him feel sick. The knot in his stomach tightened.

"You taste incredible... every inch of you. And this ass... soft, perky, utterly addictive," Christian groaned, his words were followed by sharp, resounding smacks.

A strained moan came after, and something in Lorenzo snapped.

He stepped into the living room and froze in horror. His breath caught in his throat, and he struggled to drag air into his lungs as he took in the scene before him.