Betrayed, Yet Bound To The Billionaire novel Chapter 4

Odalys didn't even glance back at Percival Stewart. Not a flicker of hesitation, not a hint of acknowledgment. Instead, she turned with that effortless grace of hers and fixed her gaze on Dorian. The butler looked like someone had just smacked him with a frying pan.

Her voice, calm and detached, cut through his stupor. "Where's my room? Be a darling and show me the way."

She wasn't asking; she was commanding. And it didn't matter that she was deep in Stewart family territory. Odalys carried herself like she owned every inch of it.

Dorian blinked, struggling to process what he'd just witnessed. After a quick, uncertain glance at Percival, who gave the faintest nod, Dorian's entire demeanor shifted. Gone was the stunned confusion, replaced by cool professionalism.

"This way, ma'am," he said, gesturing with the practiced precision of someone who knew better than to ask questions.

Percival, on the other hand, stayed rooted to the spot. Hands clasped loosely behind his back, he watched her walk away, his sharp eyes narrowing as if trying to dissect her piece by piece.

Only when she disappeared around the corner did he lower his gaze to the tattered remnants of his shirt—and the skin beneath it.

The sight stopped him cold. The wounds that had ravaged his body for years—open, festering, and bleeding—were gone. The relentless, searing pain that had become a constant companion? Vanished.

His hand drifted to his chest, tracing the spot where her fingers had brushed against him. The second she'd touched him, his heart had nearly stopped, like it couldn't decide if it wanted to keep beating.

"The Bennett girl?" he murmured to himself, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Huh. That's new."

"Mr. Stewart." The voice cut through his thoughts. Callum Hale was striding toward him, his face a mixture of concern and barely contained panic. "Are you okay? What just happened?"

Percival didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked toward the hallway where Odalys had disappeared, his mind still spinning.

Finally, his raspy voice broke the silence. "The poison... it's suppressed."

Callum froze mid-step, blinking like he'd misheard. "What?" He let out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair as he started pacing. "Hold up. Suppressed? Are you serious right now? That shit's been ripping you apart for years, and now—what? She waves her hand, touches you, and poof? Just like that?"

He scoffed. "Percival, no offense, but that sounds like a load of bullshit."

Percival didn't respond. His hand lingered on his chest, his mind replaying the moment over and over.

For years, his body had been a battlefield, the poison clawing at him from the inside out. Doctors—some of the best money could buy—had tried and failed to cure him.

Every day was the same cycle: pain, blood, wounds that refused to heal, and then scabs that tore open again. Each time, the intervals got shorter, the pain sharper, the decay more brutal.

The verdict had been unanimous. He was living on borrowed time, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it. Not even the Stewart family, with all their money and power, had been able to fix it.

That was why his grandfather had gone looking for answers elsewhere. Desperation had led him to mystics, fortune tellers, anyone who might offer some kind of hope.

And hope had come in the form of an arranged marriage—a union between Percival and a woman whose unique fate could balance his own.

"She came for me," Percival said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

Callum stopped pacing and stared at him. "For you? You think she's here to kill you?"

The second the words left his mouth, Callum winced. 'Shit. No, that doesn't make sense. If she wanted him dead, she wouldn't have just saved his ass. So... what's her game?' he wondered.

"Kill me? Nah, I don't think that's her angle. But she knew I was poisoned, suppressed it with one simple move, and had the balls to say she could buy me another month. I'll play along—for now. I want to see how she plans to pull that off," Percival said, his voice steady, his gaze sharp.

Callum Hale frowned, nodding slightly as the logic landed, but his worry lingered. "Mr. Stewart, even the top doctors wouldn't make that kind of promise. What if she's the one who poisoned you in the first place?"

Percival didn't respond right away, his eyes distant. "Look into her," he finally said, his voice cold and steady.

Callum hesitated for just a second before understanding dawned. With a sharp nod, he replied, "Understood. I'll get on it now."

He had barely turned to leave when Dorian entered the room with his usual precise movements. He stopped a few steps away from Percival and respectfully began reporting everything that had happened at the Bennett estate.

Percival's sharp eyes narrowed slightly as he listened, his voice lowering to a cold drawl. "She took all the wedding gifts?"

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