The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 215: Temptress

Chapter 215: Temptress

By the time Aveline got to work, the sky was fully awake, that hazy gray giving way to the ruthless glare of midmorning. She felt wired — not from sleep, because she hadn’t really gotten any — but from the steady hum of adrenaline still running through her veins. A secret tucked beneath her skin.

The watch sat in her bag, cool against her fingertips every time she reached for her lip gloss or keys. It felt heavier than it should, like a promise or a loaded question.

She waited until lunch break. Could’ve called sooner. Didn’t. Let him sweat, if he even noticed it missing.

But something told her he had.

Perched on the edge of the back stairwell, cigarette dangling from her lips though she didn’t bother lighting it, Aveline pulled out her phone. Stared at the screen for a beat too long. His number was still in there from last night’s blurry, half-drunken exchange when he texted to say he was downstairs.

Stefan Shepherd. She hit call before she could talk herself out of it.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

"Ave?"

His voice came through the line, low and a little surprised, and God — she hated how good it sounded, like warm whiskey and slow rain on a Sunday.

"Hey, doc," she drawled, letting a smile color her voice. "Miss me already?"

A pause. She could hear the soft murmur of voices in the background, the faint beep of hospital monitors. "Uh... what’s up? Everything okay?"

She let the silence stretch for a beat, then pulled the watch from her bag, holding it up like he could see it through the phone. "You left something behind." Another pause. This one is heavier.

"My watch."

"Mmhmm." She toyed with the strap, letting the leather glide over her knuckles.

"Didn’t take you for the sentimental type, but you’ve got your name on it and everything."

He gave a soft, almost embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, it was a gift. Family thing."

Family. Right. Aveline bit her lip, deciding how hard to push. "Guess I should drop it off sometime."

"You don’t have to—"

"I want to," she cut in, sharper than she meant to, then softened it with a laugh.

"Besides, I’m curious now. Can’t have some big-shot Shepherd walking around incomplete." Another beat of silence, then: "Alright. I will call you?"

"Tonight," she agreed. A pause, lingering, like neither of them wanted to be the one to hang up. "Thanks, Aveline."

"Don’t thank me yet, doc," she murmured, a promise disguised as a tease. And she hung up before he could answer, the smirk already curling her lips.

–

"You really into her, huh?" Steve teased, a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Stefan glanced up, rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it. "Yeah. I am."

Steve gave a soft, raspy chuckle. "Man... you and your type. I looked into her, you know."

Stefan arched a brow. "Couldn’t help yourself?"

"Would you have?" Steve shot back, his grin widening, then fading into something sadder. "I wish I could say she’s clean, baby brother. I do. But life’s a mess, and people... they carry things you’ll never see unless you dig."

Stefan sighed, leaning his head back against the chair. The ceiling fan made a soft, rhythmic whir above them.

"I know, Steve," he said quietly. "I wasn’t chasing perfection. I was chasing... different. You know, with Eva, I was chasing an impossible fairy tale. Too good.

Too neat. And then with Ava... I thought, screw it, let’s ignore the past and see what happens when you connect over something real. Conversations at 2 a.m. about the universe and grief and what kind of music makes you cry."

Steve listened, something tender settling in his eyes.

"You don’t want to love her, you want to save her. And those are two very different things."

The words hit like a sucker punch. Stefan winced, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Maybe. Hell... probably."

Steve reached over, grabbing a glass cup of water, and taking a small sip.

"Do yourself a favor. Talk to her. Find out if you can live with who she is, not who you think she could be if you fixed a few things. And I won’t dump the dirt I found.

Not unless you ask."

Stefan smirked. "Thanks. For being invasive."

"Hey, it’s what I do."

A comfortable silence settled between them, the air thick but not heavy. It felt good, this. Like old times. Before death crept into the picture.

"You know what I wanna do?" Stefan said suddenly, staring out the window like he could see beyond it.

"Something crazy. Stupid. Loud. I’ve been living like an old man since I hit thirty. Always too careful, too damn responsible. I wanna go to a club. One of those trashy ones. With loud music and neon lights and women who don’t care what your last name is. I wanna get drunk and reckless and maybe get into a stupid fight."

Steve burst out laughing, a raspy, genuine sound.

"You? In a club? What are you gonna do, order sparkling water and correct their lighting choices?"

"Shut up." Stefan grinned. "I might surprise you."

Steve leaned back, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Shit... let’s go then."

Stefan blinked. "Wait. What?"

"Let’s go." Steve shrugged, a spark in his eyes that hadn’t been there for days.

"I’m sick, not dead. Yet. And you’re right — today you’re healthy, tomorrow..." He let the words trail off, but Stefan knew exactly what he meant.

And somehow, with monitors beeping and medicine bottles lining the table, the idea didn’t seem crazy. It felt like the most alive thing they could do.

"You sure, man?"

"What’s the worst that happens? I keel over on the dance floor? Might as well go out with a view."

Stefan laughed, shaking his head. "Alright. You’re insane. But fine. Tonight."

"Tonight." Steve grinned, extending his hand for a shake. They clasped hands like a pact, like two boys daring the world to stop them.

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