Dumped My Cheating Ex. Now I'm Sleeping Next to a Billionaire CEO novel Chapter 558

James clenched his phone so hard his knuckles turned white.

The Sullivans. Abriella.

In his mind, those two things had never belonged together. He barely cared about his own mother, much less the rest of his so-called family.

But this was the first time Emmy had ever asked him for help.

He didn’t even think twice. His voice was calm and firm. “Alright.”

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

Emmy glanced out at the imposing Sullivan mansion just ahead. “I’m outside the Sullivans’ place, waiting for you.”

James’s brow tightened.

If he went to the Sullivans, he’d have to do it as Mr. Nelson. But Emmy was right out front. If she saw him, his entire cover would be blown.

He swallowed, lowering his voice. “Something came up. I can’t get away just yet. I’ll send Steve to pick you up instead.”

Emmy was in too much of a panic to question him. She knew as well as anyone: if you wanted to get someone out of a place like the Sullivans’, you needed to send someone who could actually get things done.

“Okay,” she said at once. “Tell him to hurry!”

She hung up and waited in her car, watching the clock. Every minute felt endless.

But Steve never came.

***

Inside the Sullivan mansion.

Emmy had barely left when Mr. Sullivan’s face darkened, his voice cold enough to freeze the room. He fixed his stare on Abriella.

“Kneel.”

Abriella didn’t even flinch. She walked to the middle of the marble floor, dropped to her knees, and kept her back perfectly straight. The spot was empty, no furniture nearby—easy for whatever punishment was coming.

She looked ready to cry. “Mom, I’m only thinking of her! The Rineharts basically run Cloudville. Their family’s even richer than ours. Why would I hurt her? Why would she accuse me?”

Mr. Sullivan picked up the whip, smacking it against his palm with a heavy thud.

“Apologize to your sister.”

“She’s gone above and beyond to arrange these marriages for you, and all you care about is how the guy looks. Shallow.”

“If she wants the marriage so bad, let her do it!” Abriella shot back, voice icy. “I’m not marrying him, and I’m not apologizing either.”

“You—”

Mr. Sullivan finally lost it. He stepped behind Abriella, raised his arm, and brought the whip down hard.

The crack echoed across the marble, the leather biting into Abriella’s back.

She gasped, doubling over as the pain hit, cold sweat breaking out all over her skin.