The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 198: The night bird

Chapter 198: The night bird

"Yes... Sasha," the man murmured, pulling the door wider. "Come in, darling."

She stepped inside. The room smelled of whiskey and cologne, low lights casting everything in an amber glow. The man gestured toward a small round table where a white envelope sat neatly against a half-empty glass.

Without a word, Aveline crossed the room, picked up the envelope, and slid it into her handbag. She didn’t count it. Never did.

He watched her every move, eyes greedy, already undressing her in his mind.

Aveline turned her back to him, unbuttoned the coat slowly, letting it slip from her shoulders. When she faced him again, the lace clung to her skin like a second, darker soul.

The man’s smile widened. "Goddamn... you’re even more beautiful in person than your pictures ."

Aveline’s lips curved up in a dangerous little smirk.

"Let’s just say... I’m one of a kind." She moved closer, the room closing in around them like a secret neither of them would ever speak of in daylight.

The man was stunned, for a moment, just standing there, eyes drinking her in as if she were some rare delicacy served on a silver tray. But it wasn’t the lingerie, the long legs, or the midnight hair that caught him off guard. It was the softness in her voice, the gentle offering he hadn’t expected.

"We can talk if you want," Aveline murmured, a soft smile curving her lips. "I’m a good listener."

He blinked, thrown. Then, almost bashfully, he nodded and gestured toward the small, leather armchair by the window. The city stretched out below them in a blur of restless lights.

And so he talked.

About business. About bad deals and worse friends. About a wife he didn’t love and a life that felt like a cage dressed up in velvet curtains. Aveline listened, nodding in the right places, murmuring little words of sympathy that meant absolutely nothing.

She’d done this before. Enough to know that half of these men didn’t need sex as much as they needed someone to pretend to give a damn.

After a while, his hand reached for hers, his touch warm and clammy. He leaned in and kissed her. The kind of kiss that was desperate and hungry, trying to pull life from wherever he could find it.

She kissed him back. Not because she wanted to, but because it was easier than saying no.

The kiss turned intense. Raw. All teeth and tongue, no tenderness. His hands roamed her body like he was trying to possess it, to claim something no one had ever truly owned.

And then it happened.

He bent her over on the bed, rough and fast, no words, no gentle transition. It wasn’t the kind of thing one savored, it was a transaction. A collision of flesh and need, one-sided and careless. He was deep, he was fast, and the room filled with the sounds of his uneven breathing and the slap of skin against skin.

For a fleeting moment, against all reason, Aveline almost let herself feel it. The pull of sensation, the ghost of pleasure.

But then it was over.

He pulled out, already mumbling apologies. "I’m sorry... this usually doesn’t happen. I just—"

"It’s okay," Aveline said softly, offering him a smile she didn’t mean.

Her part was done.

She padded into the bathroom, the cool tiles biting against her feet. The water steamed around her as she washed away the scent, the touch, the moment. When she stepped out, she was Aveline again. Composed. Smooth. Untouchable.

She slipped back into her robe, grabbed her handbag — the envelope safely inside — and left the room without another word.

The city air hit her like a reminder of who she was. Of the secret things people did behind hotel doors, and how no one ever really knew anyone.

She checked the time. It was 8:37 PM. Her phone buzzed. Stefan.

"See you at 9?" Aveline took a breath, smiled to herself, and typed back:

"Wouldn’t miss it."

Outside the hotel, the city buzzed. Cars hummed by in streaks of white and red, the night alive with careless laughter and the pulse of late-night promises.

Aveline stepped out, adjusting her coat, her pulse still steady as ice. She caught the flicker of a familiar figure slouched at a patio table, glass in hand, a bottle nearby, eyes glassy with drink.

Ethan. She smirked.

Ignoring the soft, hopeful buzz of Stefan’s call, she crossed the street, hips swaying, a predator stalking familiar prey.

"Can I join you, boss?" she teased, voice like silk brushing against his drunken haze.

Ethan squinted, his bleary gaze struggling to focus. The streetlights blurred around him, and for a moment, the name he spoke wasn’t hers.

"Mara... Mara baby, you came..." he slurred, his voice rough with longing, haunted by a ghost she wasn’t.

Aveline’s smile sharpened.

"Yes, baby, I came," she murmured, sliding into the seat beside him, her hand brushing against his. She could’ve taken him home right then, bent him to her will, played with his regrets and loneliness like a violin.

But fate had other plans.

Steph appeared, his expression tight as he took in the scene. "Aveline, leave," he ordered, voice calm but cold as steel.

Aveline let out a soft, disappointed sigh, standing gracefully. She offered a lazy smirk. "You always ruin the fun, Steph," she quipped, before turning away, pulling her phone from her coat.

Stefan’s name blinked again. Guilt, uninvited, pooled in her stomach.

She answered. "I’m really sorry, Stefan. I... I wanted to see you. Now it’s late and I..." her voice wavered, the lie barely held together.

She liked him. She really did. And maybe that was the problem.

Stefan stood outside the restaurant, the night air brushing his skin, the rose in his hand already starting to wilt at the edges. He could hear the city and see couples laughing as they passed by. And for a moment, he let himself imagine her there. Sitting across from him, a different kind of woman.

It hurt more than he thought it would.

"It’s fine, Ave. Another time," he said quietly, the warmth in his voice a little dimmer.

He ended the call, looked at the rose one last time, and handed it to a little girl passing by with her mother.

"Here, sweetheart," he said softly. She smiled up at him, and for a second, the ache eased. Then he turned, shoved his hands in his pockets, and disappeared into the night.

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