Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 88: Silence

Chapter 88: Silence

Ashley forced herself out of his warm embrace, dragging air into her lungs as she dragged the duvet to cover her naked body. Her heart pounded violently in her chest.

What the hell was he saying? Wasn’t this supposed to be just sex—no strings?

But emotions swirled through her, emotions she’d tried to bury deep since they began tearing at each other like starving wolves. From the moment he’d thrown her onto that bed and carved himself into every inch of her, everything she’d fought to suppress came roaring back.

And now these confessions?

Fear twisted in her stomach. But this time, it wasn’t just fear of him breaking her heart again—it was something else. Something worse.

Without meeting his gaze, she shook her head slowly. "I can’t," she whispered.

She couldn’t give him what he sought.

She couldn’t save him. She couldn’t even save her own child.

Lorenzo felt a part of his heart slice away, but it didn’t stop him from reaching for her arm when she moved to leave the bed.

Ashley stiffened.

"Why, sunshine? If you’re scared your heart’s going to get broken again, I promise it won’t. I’m not him."

He would rather die protecting her heart than break it.

Ashley briefly shut her eyes to calm her raging nerves, then open them again. How could he be talking about Christian when he’d been the first to break her?

"Loren—"

"Ashley, I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for a second in the past nine years," he interrupted, his words knocking the breath from her lungs again. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

No. He was lying. He had to be.

If he wasn’t—then why did he leave?

Why did he stay away so long?

She wanted to ask. God, she did. But the fear of what she might discover, of unravelling another devastating secret, paralyzed her.

"You’re still chasing a memory, Lorenzo. That girl you claim you loved doesn’t exist anymore," she said, her voice firm, hiding the storm inside her, the pain burning in her eyes.

Before he could stop her again, she slipped from his grasp and walked toward the bathroom, the duvet falling away, baring her body to him once more. A sight that burned at Lorenzo, cruelly reminding him of what he wanted so badly, but couldn’t have.

He didn’t move. Just watched the door close behind her, then dropped onto the bed, palms covering his face.

Ashley sank under the shower, her tears lost in the rush of water. She wanted to erase his voice, the hurt in those beautiful amber depths—but she couldn’t. It haunted her.

He’d sounded so sincere.

But she couldn’t let herself believe him.

She couldn’t dare want what he promised. She couldn’t risk letting her hope rise, only to have it crushed again—because she was certain he’d leave her again. Once he realized she wasn’t the girl from the past–open, trusting, full of dreams. Once he saw how broken and ugly she was inside.

Even if, by some miracle, he was sincere... she couldn’t stay. She didn’t deserve happiness. Not while her daughter was still out there—alone.

She pulled at her hair until pain shot through her skull, but the water soothed her faster than she wanted.

How could the hatred she’d clung to for so long be undone by a few carefully chosen words—replaced by something far more dangerous? Something terrifying?

She hated how fragile she was. How unstable. She hated that she dared crave happiness, dared to seek distraction, even for a heartbeat.

Hope, just like love, required vulnerability and she never, ever wanted to be vulnerable, again.

When she finally stepped out of the bathroom, the room was empty. Lorenzo was gone.

Relief was what she was supposed to feel. But instead, her chest tightened. A flicker of disappointment rushed through her, followed by a sharp, rising fear.

Had he abandoned her again?

Without thinking, she slipped back into her dress—no underwear, didn’t care—her movements clumsy and rushed. She headed downstairs, not entirely sure where she was going. Maybe home. Maybe nowhere.

Anger boiled beneath her skin, and she hated it. Hated that she was angry and didn’t even know why.

She hoped to find Renee to open the gate, since she still didn’t know the access code. And maybe she’d be lucky to catch an Uber at this hour. She’d been too busy getting wrecked by him to notice how quickly the night had disappeared. Her body still ached, sore in places that reminded her of everything she wanted to forget. She should’ve been upstairs, resting and regaining lost strength. Not wandering around like this.

Her gaze swept over the massive parlor. No sign of anyone. She moved toward the door, silently praying it wasn’t locked.

"Going somewhere?"

The deep, familiar voice cut through the air, making her jump.

Her hand froze on the doorknob as her heart leapt. He wasn’t gone?

Maybe he’d just left the room to escape her. To get away from her disgusting presence.

She turned slowly to find him leaning against a door that she guessed was the kitchen—wearing only a pair of loose slacks. His chest bare, golden skin catching the soft light. It shouldn’t have made her breath catch. But it did.

"I... thought you left," she said, eyes avoiding his.

"Left? This is my house," he said with a trace of forced amusement. "I came down to make something for you. Figured you’d be hungry... after everything."

His voice was calm, maybe even clipped, but she couldn’t tell if it was her guilt twisting the sound.

Why was he still being kind?

At the slightest provocation, Christian would have left her to rot without a second glance—even if she were dying. That’s if he didn’t run off first to spend days with Kayla, before that bitch moved permanently into what used to be their home. Or rather, her prison, she corrected with a grimace.

Lorenzo, even after being turned away, was still thinking of her.

Still caring.

It intensified her confusion. Her guilt.

"Come on," Lorenzo said, already disappearing into the kitchen. "Dinner is almost ready."

She hesitated, torn between fleeing and staying. In the end, she walked toward the kitchen. Her stomach twisted painfully—whatever he was making, she needed it.

She found Lorenzo transferring a sandwich from the pan to a plate. The sweet, buttery smell filled the space, making her mouth water.

The kitchen, like the rest of the mansion, was grand and impossibly luxurious.

"Sit there."

She followed his gaze and sank into a tall chair by the gleaming center table.

He was still being kind, but the tension between them was heavy. He only spoke when he had to, and even then, his words were short and distant.

Soon, he served her, grabbed his own plate, and they ate in a silence that felt too suffocating for such a beautiful space.

Ashley forced each bite down, her throat tight, her appetite lost somewhere between guilt and confusion. She didn’t even know why she felt so guilty. He was the one who left first.

Lorenzo noticed her puffy eyes, and it made something twist painfully in his chest. Had she been crying?

Still, he said nothing.

He just focused on holding himself back—from pulling her into his arms, from kissing her, from baring his soul and telling her how much it ached.

He couldn’t allow himself to imagine what came after this. Once she left, he wouldn’t chase her. Maybe she deserved better—someone who didn’t come with baggage and blood on their hands. Someone she didn’t have to hate. Someone who didn’t remind her of everything she wanted to forget.

Not this greedy monster.

He’d help her find her daughter. He’d get her restaurant up and running. Then he’d disappear. Give her the space she needed. The peace she deserved.

"Renee... I didn’t see her," Ashley said, trying to break the silence after he poured her a glass of milk.

"She doesn’t spend the night when Bryan’s not here."

Straight to the point. No warmth. Ashley noticed the flicker of unease in his eyes at the mention of Bryan—the adorable little boy from the mall. She wanted to ask if he was okay... but stopped herself. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to her, and asking questions would only push him. She didn’t want that.

She took another bite of the sandwich and forced it down with the milk. It was delicious, maybe one of the best she’d had. Still, she just wanted to finish and vanish.

"You’re going to choke if you don’t slow down, Ashley," Lorenzo said, not looking at her.

Ashley. Not sunshine. Not cupcake, cookie or princess. Just her name. She shouldn’t have felt the ache that followed. She didn’t want the pet names after all. Especially not sunshine. Or maybe she just didn’t want the memories they dragged up. But somehow, it was there.

"I know you want to go home tonight," he said, rising to rinse his plate, "but it’s late. I don’t want you catching a cold out there. So, you’re stuck with me for the night. I’ll drop you off first thing in the morning."

He didn’t wait for her reply. He just hung the plate and moved to his phone, scrolling through something as he waited for her to finish. Those last two minutes felt like the longest of her life.

When she finally stood, he took her plate, rinsed it, and they both headed toward the stairs. Every step he took behind her made her want to disappear. Why didn’t they just take the elevator? Why was she even following him back to his room? She could sleep on the couch. Yes—the couch.

But just as she turned to say it, Lorenzo stepped forward and scooped her into his arms. Without a word, he climbed the stairs two at a time, holding her close, until they were back in his room again. His actions confused her.

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