Billionaire's Betrayal a contracted revenge (Aurelia) novel Chapter 118

Chapter 118

Chapter 118

53

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Dawson sat in the hospital lobby, arms crossed, staring at the clock above reception tick through another slow

minute.

He hated waiting rooms. The hospital smell, the muted television droning some daytime show no one watched, the kind of silence that made a man feel smaller and far more ordinary than he was used to feeling.

But this appointment mattered enough to sit through it. He had skipped the last two, buried in expansion meetings and quarterly reviews, telling himself Charlotte didn’t need him standing over every routine checkup.

Today felt different and some restlessness he couldn’t fully understand pulled him here without much thought.

The doctor came out eventually, clipboard in hand, a professional smile already in place. “Everything looks perfect, Mr. Valerius. Strong heartbeat, healthy growth, right on schedule for this stage. Your son is right on track.”

Dawson exhaled, some tension he hadn’t fully acknowledged draining out of his shoulders. “Good. That’s good to hear.”

“Charlotte is getting dressed. She will be out shortly. She has been an excellent patient, very cooperative with all the prenatal recommendations.”

“Good. I want everything by the book.”

The doctor left him alone again, and Dawson sat back, staring at nothing.

He needed this child. Not for sentiment, not because he wanted to be called daddy.

He needed an heir, someone to inherit everything he had built since taking over the company, someone with Valerius blood strong enough to shut Hebvron out of the empire permanently.

The old man had circled Dawson’s holdings for years, patient and manipulating, waiting for any crack he could slip through, any weakness in succession he could exploit to claim a piece of what Dawson considered rightfully his.

Even now, with Rieck stripped of his title and playing architect in some vanity building project, Hebvron’s ambition hadn’t changed.

A legitimate son closed that door for good, permanently, in a way no lawyer or contract ever fully could.

Charlotte’s pregnancy was the only insurance policy he trusted completely, the one asset in his life that no amount of money could just replace or rebuild if it ever slipped away.

Everything else, the buildings, the board seats, the reputation, could be bought back or rebuilt given enough time But a missed window for an heir could not.

16:27 Mon, Aug 3

Chapter 118

53

55 vouchers

Back home that evening, Dawson sat at his desk, laptop open, working through a stack of contracts that refused to shrink no matter how many hours he threw at them.

Just then a knock sounded at the front door, sharp and businesslike, nothing like the casual rhythm of a delivery or a neighbour.

He answered it himself as his housekeeper was already occupied elsewhere in the house.

A man stood on the porch, unfamiliar, well dressed but somehow out of place, his eyes scanning the entryway behind Dawson with more interest than a stranger should have, cataloguing details rather than just waiting for

an answer.

“Is Charlotte around?”

“Who is asking?” Dawson’s tone immediately hardened, every instinct sharpening at the man’s flat, unreadable

expression.

“I asked you a question.” Dawson stepped forward, filling the doorway completely, his voice carrying the edge that made most men in his employ think twice before testing him further. “Who sent you? Speak.”

The man said nothing. His gaze flicked again past Dawson’s shoulder into the house, before turning and walking back down the steps without another word, disappearing around the corner before Dawson could ask another question.

Dawson stood in the doorway a long moment, unsettled. He looked at the empty street for any trace of where the man had gone, before closing the door and returning to his desk, the unfinished contracts suddenly feeling far less important than they had five minutes ago.

Charlotte arrived home an hour later, shopping bags in hand, cheerful and unbothered, the sickly sweet scent of lilies trailing behind her the moment she stepped through the door.

“A man came by looking for you,” Dawson said, watching her face closely, searching for any flicker of reaction she might not manage to hide fast enough. “Wouldn’t give his name. Wouldn’t say what he wanted. Just walked away when I pushed.”

“Oh, that.” Charlotte waved a hand, setting her bags down without much concern, though her fingers lingered a beat too long on the strap of one of them. “Probably one of the sellers from the boutique. I have been buying quite a bit lately, sweetie. They love hunting down repeat customers, especially the ones who tip generously.”

“He didn’t look like a boutique seller. He looked like he was casing the house.”

“You worry too much, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek lightly, already moving towards the stairs. “I’m exhausted. Long day. Can we not do this tonight?”

Dawson let her go, the explanation sitting wrong in his chest, though he couldn’t yet say exactly why.

He returned to his laptop, but the contracts blurred past unread.

His mind kept circling back again and again to the man’s flat, unreadable stare and the way Charlotte’s fingers had tightened on that shopping bag a beat too long, a small tell he might have missed entirely on any other

night.

2/4

16:27 Mon, Aug 3

Chapter 118

គ

53

55 vouchers

He sat in his office the next day, the same unease from that stranger’s visit still gnawing quietly at the back of his mind.

Charlotte had been different lately. Distant in small ways. Quick with excuses. Quicker still to change the subject whenever some topics came too close.

Suddenly his office door opened.

His head of security stepped inside, a tablet in hand, expression carefully neutral, the kind of neutral that usually meant bad news dressed up in professional restraint. “Sir. You asked me to check on Charlotte’s mother.”

“And?” Dawson set down his pen, giving the man his full attention.

He turned the tablet around, revealing security footage, timestamped, clear.

Charlotte’s mother, walking briskly through a grocery store, healthy, energetic, a full cart of groceries in tow, nothing about her suggesting illness of any kind.

“She is fine, sir. Perfectly healthy. No hospital records anywhere in the system, no doctor visits, nothing at all out of the ordinary. I checked three separate databases to be sure, going back a full year.”

Dawson stared at the screen a long moment, something cold settling low in his stomach, the half million dollars flashing back through his mind with new and unwelcome clarity, along with every excuse she had ever fed him without a second thought.

Charlotte had lied. Deliberately, completely, without a single flicker of guilt, and had done it well enough that he had almost believed her.

“Keep digging.” Dawson said quietly. “I want to know exactly where that money actually went, and I want to know who is receiving it.”

“Understood, sir. I will report back as soon as I have something concrete.”

As the guard left, Dawson sat alone with the silence, the pieces of the last few weeks arranging themselves into a shape he didn’t like at all.

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