Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 262

James rolled in with a breakfast cart, looking like he’d just stepped out of a magazine—fresh, handsome, and way too relaxed for someone who’d just caught her waking up. When he saw her eyes flutter open, his dark gaze softened with a lazy, teasing smile.

“Finally awake?”

He strolled over, eyes lingering a bit too long on her, the kind of look that made Emmy’s heart skip. His voice was low and a little rough around the edges—just enough to make her shiver.

“Anywhere still hurt?”

Her cheeks lit up like she’d been caught doing something scandalous. She quickly looked away from his way-too-honest stare and blurted, “Why did the server just call you Mr. Nelson?”

James took his time setting breakfast on the table, acting totally unbothered. “Maybe I am Mr. Nelson.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Emmy shot back, barely thinking. “Mr. Nelson would never be so… out of control.”

She rolled her eyes, replaying the last time she ran into the real Mr. Nelson. He’d been all restraint and old-school manners, even sending her home like a proper gentleman. No way he was this man—the same man who’d been so relentless and impossible to satisfy.

Besides, Mr. Nelson was basically a legend—rich, powerful, untouchable. And James? He was just a firefighter, a local hero. Worlds apart. Sure, their faces were almost identical, but that had to be a crazy coincidence.

Still, something didn’t add up. That uneasy feeling in her chest wouldn’t go away.

They’d slept here all night. No one had come banging on the door. Instead, someone actually brought them breakfast. This was supposed to be Mr. Nelson’s territory, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. And now everyone—including Dean—was chasing after her, begging her to talk to Mr. Nelson about letting Evelina go…

A wild thought crashed into her mind, equal parts absurd and terrifying.

She looked up, eyes wide, searching his face for the truth.

“At the gala last night—the guy with Mr. Nelson… was that you?”

James caught her full-on stare, her eyes round like startled kittens. A slow, knowing smile tugged at his lips.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding.

James listened to her “brilliant theory” with a smile he couldn’t hide, half amused, half helpless.

He didn’t argue. He just slid a warm cup of milk to her side.

“Drink this. It’ll help your stomach.”

Emmy took a sip, letting the heat settle her nerves. If anything, it made her even more convinced she was right.

Then a new thought struck her, draining the color from her face.

“Wait… if that’s true, then the real Mr. Nelson already knows about you, right? People say he’s dangerous. What if he ever needs someone to take the fall—wouldn’t he use you as a scapegoat? That’s even riskier!”

Her panic grew by the second.

She’d read all the stories online. The rich and powerful always had lookalikes—some for public appearances, others for shady business behind the scenes, and the worst, the ones kept around as “organ banks” or “blood donors,” ready to take the blame and vanish if things ever went wrong.