Game of Love and Deception: The Billionaire's Ex Wife
Chapter 89: The black book

Chapter 89: The black book

After Ashley fell asleep, Lorenzo stepped out onto his private balcony with a bottle of whiskey, not bothering with a glass. He drank half of it straight from the bottle, but still felt no relief.

Quietly, he slipped back inside, careful not to wake the woman sleeping in his bed. She looked breathtaking. And yet, she couldn’t be his. Nothing was ever truly his in this damn world. Even the boy he loved—would officially belong to someone else tomorrow.

He dug through his secret drawer until he found it. The black book. Flipping it open, he ticked off a name he planned to deal with tonight. Just then, Ashley stirred in her sleep. His heart skipped a beat, and guilt flooded his chest.

His jaw clenched. These people didn’t deserve to live. He was doing the world a favor, purging it of one more piece of filth.

He drove out of the estate wearing a black hoodie and a matching cap underneath, shutting off the part of him that still felt. How else could you face the man who shattered your innocence? The one who set the foundation for all your suffering?

Boyd Mercer. Chief of the Bronze City Metropolitan Police when those girls were paid to accuse him of one of the worst crimes. Mercer knew the truth. He knew Lorenzo was innocent. But he was the kind of rot that poisoned the world—those meant to uphold the law, yet took pleasure in breaking it. Men who sent powerless innocents behind bars with full pockets and smug smiles. Mercer was one of the many dogs who sat at Charlotte’s feet. The reason he could not have the woman of his dreams.

Slowing down in front of the poorly guarded building, it did not take Lorenzo much effort to deal with the clumsy guards. A quick dose of chloroform, and they were out cold for a few minutes. Just as much time needed for what he was there for. He could’ve killed them—but he didn’t kill innocents.

His gaze lingered on the softly lit den, beside the main building, the only place with a different-colored bulb. That was where Mercer studied case files every night, picking out which victims were the easiest prey. Lorenzo knew this house like the back of his hand. Years of watching, waiting, planning when best to strike. He’d traded countless sleepless nights for this moment.

And yet now, all he could see was her—Ashley—peacefully asleep in that bed. Her image clawed at his conscience, whispering that this was not who he was anymore. That this was not who she wanted him to be.

He could walk away. No one would know.

Even if she never found out, he would carry this darkness into the same room where she lay, waiting for him like he was worth saving.

He almost turned back. Almost.

But then he remembered her words from earlier.

"I can’t."

She couldn’t save him.

Because he didn’t deserve saving.

Thirty seconds left for the chloroform to wear off, Lorenzo walked out of the mansion. His gun was back behind his waist, and his gloved hand was covered in blood—from the heart he had carved out.

He wasn’t heartless enough to do it while the man was still alive. He’d been merciful. A silent, untraceable bullet through the skull, just after savoring the fear in Mercer’s pretty brown eyes.

"Say hello to the devil. Until we meet again."

Those had been his final words.

After wiping his hand and the scalpel with chlorine, Lorenzo sped off toward home, praying Ashley was still fast asleep.

He’d thought killing Mercer, ending a long-deserving enemy, would bring peace. But it didn’t. The satisfaction was brief, fading more with every mile that brought him closer to his estate gates.

Revenge didn’t bring closure. It didn’t bring peace. It only painted your soul darker.

But he didn’t regret it.

He’d done the world a favor. Cleansed it of one more evil.

Now, he just needed to focus on what really mattered. Until he got enough time again, for the next candidate in the book.

Carl had mentioned Roseline had a son. He needed to make plans to get the child. Then he’d see how that stupid brunette could still lie with a straight face.

He pulled out his phone and texted one of his men, then parked and strolled into the house, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribs.

For someone who’d just carved a man’s heart out and left it beside a medal of justice, he shouldn’t be this afraid of waking a sleeping woman. But he was.

Ashley mumbled something the moment he shut the door behind him, and his heart almost leapt out of his chest.

But she didn’t wake. Just shifted slightly in bed, her soft snores returning a moment later.

Relief washed through him.

He rushed to the shower, threw his bloodstained clothes in the washing machine, hid the gun and tools, and took the couch when he came out.

He couldn’t lie next to her.

Couldn’t stain her with what he’d just done.

********

Ashley jolted awake to the shrill ring of her phone.

Her gaze darted across the unfamiliar room. It took her a second to remember she was still at Lorenzo’s.

She looked around again. He wasn’t there.

She tried not to panic like last time. He could be downstairs... anywhere, really. It was his house, after all. The sunlight sneaking through the curtains told her she’d overslept.

She reached for the phone buzzing on the nearby drawer. It stopped ringing—then started again.

Molita.

Her brows furrowed. Why was Molita calling this early?

She picked up.

"Please tell me you’re okay."

Ashley’s heart skipped at the frantic tone.

"Molita? I’m fine. What do you mean?"

"From how confused you sound, I’m guessing you didn’t sleep at home... and you haven’t seen the news."

Ashley’s frown deepened just as Lorenzo walked in, holding a shopping bag. Panic bloomed in her chest.

"What news?"

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