I Became the Billionaire's Fake Lover to Get My Revenge
Chapter 91: No One Else

Chapter 91: No One Else

The grand venue hall fell into an expectant hush. The lights dimmed gradually, casting the room in a dramatic twilight as the large canvas screen above the stage flickered to black. Seconds ticked by, the silence stretching thin. Nothing happened.

Guests began exchanging uneasy glances, their hushed whispers growing louder as confusion settled over the crowd. Then, without warning, the speakers crackled to life—harsh and jarring—before playing a loud, distorted recording.

And just like that, Anna’s world narrowed to a single point.

Everything else faded into obscurity. She could no longer hear the murmuring voices or see the sea of faces around her. All that existed in her consciousness was Marienne—frozen in place like a deer caught in headlights. It felt like something out of a movie, where time slowed to a crawl so she could fully absorb one crystal-clear image: Marienne’s very public, and very humiliating, downfall.

"What’s happening?" someone near the back whispered, their voice tinged with disbelief.

"Who’s voice is that?" a man asked, reaching instinctively for his partner’s hand.

"Marienne?" a woman gasped, her sharp, dark eyes swinging toward Marienne like a spotlight. "Did he just say Marienne Rochester?"

The room stirred with mounting shock.

"No way!" another voice rang out—louder, more confident. Anna’s gaze snapped toward it instinctively, recognizing it at once. It was Elizabeth Radcliffe. "That’s Marienne Rochester! She’s the one who accused Gabriel Garrel of sexual assault! And she tried to start an anonymous gossip thread on my feed!"

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.

"Oh my God," another voice chimed in—this time, unmistakably Angelina Castillo, one of Amelie Bennett’s well-known socialite friends. Her tone was a mix of disbelief and scorn. "I’m having serious flashbacks right now. But this? This is so much worse. She accused Mr. Garrel... and she staged it all? That’s not just scandalous. That’s criminal!"

The rest of the guests quickly picked up on the commotion, their ears attuned to the sharp, biting remarks exchanged by Elizabeth and her entourage. The energy in the room shifted—charged now with shock, judgment, and fascination.

Anna’s gaze drifted back to Marienne, whose complexion had turned ghostly pale, as though all the blood had been drained from her face. Beads of cold sweat shimmered along her hairline, catching the light under the chandeliers like tiny glass pearls.

"No..." she whispered, her voice trembling as she finally raised her eyes to meet Anna’s. "It’s... it’s not true! Chloe!"

Suddenly, she grabbed Anna by the arm, fingers tightening with desperation. Her expression was frantic, her eyes wild with disbelief and terror. "What’s happening? How—how could this happen? There was no one! It’s not me! I didn’t do anything!"

Anna took a slow breath, steadying herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm—too calm.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, feigning confusion. Her eyebrows arched, and her tone carried a quiet edge of betrayal. "Isn’t that your voice in the recording? And Sebastian... isn’t he your friend?"

"Yes, but—" Marienne’s words caught in her throat. She let go of Anna and spun around, her eyes scanning the sea of judgmental faces. Dozens of cold, scrutinizing gazes were fixed on her now, each one stripping away the layers of her carefully constructed persona. It was as if invisible spears were piercing through her skin, each stare searing and unforgiving.

"No!" she cried out suddenly. Her heels stumbled beneath her as she turned and bolted, nearly falling as she raced toward the exit.

"Is she seriously trying to run away?" someone asked, eyes now locked on Anna, who stood rooted in place, her expression unreadable as she watched Marienne’s frantic retreat.

"Should I call security and have her arrested?" Elizabeth asked softly, stepping beside her and placing a warm, steadying hand on Anna’s shoulder.

"No," Anna replied, her voice colder than the marble floors beneath them. Her eyes remained fixed on the space where Marienne had vanished. "Let her run."

Let her run like the criminal she is.

***

Although the launch party had unexpectedly transformed into Marienne’s public exposé, the organizers and curators managed to regain control of the evening. With calm professionalism, they reassured the guests and handed the matter over to the appropriate authorities.

Anna, naturally, was among those involved in handling the aftermath. But in truth, the final outcome rested squarely on the capable shoulders of Daniel and Violet.

Having made sure every moment was captured on camera and that all major media representatives had recorded their notes in detail, the two wasted no time. They moved swiftly, determined to ensure the story would break to the public before the party even came to a close.

Amelie and Elizabeth both tried to convince Anna to stay and join them for a celebratory drink—another well-executed triumph in her carefully woven plan. But Anna, offering a small, polite smile, gently declined.

Instead, she returned to William’s mansion and poured herself a drink in solitude. She knew all too well that if she stayed in the crowd—even among allies—she risked unraveling. Surrounded by noise and praise, the tight knot she’d kept buried beneath her ribcage might suddenly loosen. And she couldn’t afford that—not tonight.

"Drinking again?" William’s familiar voice filled the doorway as he stepped inside her dimly lit bedroom, eyebrows furrowing slightly when the lights didn’t flicker on. "Did you mess with the switch again?"

Anna nodded, her fingers loosely curled around the stem of the wineglass as she turned to face him. "At times like these," she murmured, draining the glass, "I want to control how much I see."

William sighed and walked toward her, his fingers combing absently through his soft, tousled hair. He settled beside her armchair, his voice calm but edged with quiet concern.

"Your plan worked, didn’t it? Her reputation’s finished. Once this hits the media, she and your ex-husband are both done for."

Anna shook her head slowly, her hand reaching for the wine bottle once more. But before she could grasp it, William intervened—his fingers curling firmly around her wrist, halting her motion.

Without a word, he took the bottle himself, poured her another glass, and then lowered himself to the floor in front of her. His left hand slid gently up her thigh, warm and deliberate.

"What’s on your mind, then?"

"I’m still not happy," she sighed, taking another long sip of wine that coated her mouth with bitterness. "Her reputation... it can still be salvaged. Robert will make sure of it. He always does—sweeping filth under the rug, bribing whoever needs bribing to erase his family’s messes. He never cared much about Susanne because she was useless to him anyway. But Marienne? He loves her. And just like me... he’s blind."

William’s expression darkened. His fingers tightened around her thigh, not enough to hurt, but just enough to show his displeasure. "It’s not over yet," he said. "There will be other chances. We’ll bring them all down. Every single one."

Anna’s gaze drifted to the empty space beside her, lost in the memory.

"Angelina Castillo was there too," she said, her voice soft. "Her comment brought something back... It reminded me of when Liam Bennett was accused of assault. Amelie stood by him through it all—she believed in him. And I started wondering... would everything have been different if Robert had believed in me too?"

William stiffened. His voice dropped, turning sharp, cold. Each word was edged with growing fury.

"Anna, I’ve told you—stop wasting your thoughts on that scumbag. Nothing would’ve been different. He’s filth. Shit runs in his veins. He’s been like that from the moment he opened his eyes and let out his first scream."

"But there were times when—"

"Enough," he cut in sharply, his voice like a blade. The frown between his brows deepened, shadowing his expression with simmering intensity. "It seems I need to remind you—again—of the nature of our relationship."

"What...?" Anna blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. But before she could form another word, he leaned in, his face mere inches from hers. His dark eyes burned with an almost feral intensity, raw and unfiltered.

"You’re with me," he said, his voice low and deliberate, each word soaked in possession. "And that means no other man matters. Not his voice, not his face, not his memory. You’re mine, Anna... and only I am allowed to crawl inside your head like this. Only I get to tear your thoughts apart. No one else. Me."