Married to the Billionaire Who Betrayed Me novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Rejecting His Dirty Hush Money

The brass deadbolt felt like ice against my fingertips. I stood in the dark, my breath trapped in my chest, staring at the man through

the scratched glass of the peephole. Mateo Castillo did not knock again. He stood in the flickering light of the hallway, a shadow

sent from the empire, waiting with infinite patience.

He held the thick envelope at his side.

I turned the lock. The deadbolt slid back with a heavy, metallic thud. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open just enough th

see his face.

Mateo did not flinch. He looked at my wet, tangled hair. He looked at the gray sweatpants and the oversized sweater I wore. His gaze tracked over the crusted blood marking my left cheekbone. His expression remained entirely blank, devoid of pity or surprise He was a professional. He saw messes every day, and I was just the latest mess on his schedule.

“Miss Hayes, Mateo greeted.

He used my maiden name. The name printed on the news blogs. The name the world thought I possessed.

“What do you want, Mateo?” I asked. My voice felt raw, scraped hollow by the rain and the screaming.

“Mr. Johnston sent me.” He adjusted his grip on the envelope. “May I come in? The hallway is not secure.”

I wanted to slam the door in his face. I wanted to turn the deadbolt and lock the Johnston empire out of my cheap studio apartment forever. But I knew how Tristan operated. If I shut the door, Mateo would stand there until dawn. If I ran, he would follow.

I stepped back and pulled the door wide.

Mateo walked inside. His polished leather shoes clicked against the faded linoleum. He seemed too large for the cramped space. His tailored charcoal suit clashed against the peeling floral wallpaper and the secondhand furniture I scraped together from thrift stores. He brought the sterile, suffocating air of the Johnston boardroom into my sanctuary.

I pushed the door shut. I did not bother turning the lock.

‘Make it fast,” I said, leaning my back against the wall.

Mateo walked to the small wooden desk in the corner. He did not ask for permission. He moved with the entitlement of a man who represented a billionaire. He noticed the canvas duffel bag sitting on the chair. He noticed the clothes thrown haphazardly inside.

Then, he looked at the desktop.

The marriage certificate lay flat next to my laptop. Beside it, the broken silver chain and the unadorned platinum ring rested like artifacts from a dead civilization.

Mateo stared at the ring for a long moment. He did not say a word. He placed the thick envelope on the desk, right next to the

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Chapter 15 Rejecting His Dirty Hush Money

marriage certificate.

“Mr. Johnston understands that tonight escalated beyond the intended parameters, Mateo began. His tone mirrored a lawyer reading the terms of a settlement. “He is aware that the press has compromised your current residence. Remaining here is a security risk.

‘I am leaving the city,” I replied. “You can tell him the security risk is handled.”

“That is not an acceptable solution.” Mateo unclasped the metal prongs on the back of the envelope. “The media will trace your

travel records. Your face is currently leading every major news outlet. A public departure will generate more headlines. Mr. Johnston

requires containment.”

Mateo slid his hand inside the envelope. He pulled out a sleek, black leather folder and flipped it open on the desk.

“Mr. Johnston has arranged a new residence for you,” Mateo stated. He tapped a silver key resting in a small pocket inside the folder. “A private penthouse in the Azure Tower. The building possesses an underground motorcade entrance and dedicated private elevators. The press cannot reach you there. The deed is fully paid, registered under a shell corporation for your anonymity.”

I stared at the silver key. The Azure Tower sat in the richest district of the city. A fortress in the sky.

“He has also assigned a dedicated private assistant to manage your daily needs,” Mateo continued. He produced a crisp white business card and placed it next to the key. “Her name is Eleanor Winslow. She is bound by a strict non-disclosure agreement. She will handle your groceries, your errands, and any personal logistics while you remain out of the public eye. A permanent, two-man security detail will be stationed in the lobby to ensure your safety.”

He reached into the folder one last time. He pulled out a heavy, matte-black credit card. The Johnston Group corporate crest was

stamped into the metal.

Mateo set the card on top of my marriage certificate.

“This account has no limit, Mateo said. He looked up, meeting my eyes with a chilling, detached calm. “Mr. Johnston wants to ensure your absolute comfort. He requests that you pack your belongings. A secure vehicle is waiting in the alley to transport you to

the Azure Tower tonight.”

The silence in the room stretched until it felt like a weight pressing down on my lungs.

I looked at the items laid out on my cheap wooden desk. The silver key. The business card. The heavy metal credit card. They sat in perfect alignment over the black ink of my husband’s signature.

I understood what I was looking at.

This was not a husband protecting his wife. This was a billionaire managing a scandal.

Tristan was treating me exactly the way the women in the ballroom thought he treated me. He was setting up a golden cage. He was giving me hush money. He wanted to hide me in a luxury tower with a handler and a bottomless bank account, far away from the cameras, so he could proceed with the Whitmore merger in peace.

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