The Billion-Dollar Divorce (Ian and Chloe) novel Chapter 27

Chapter 27

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Ian’s question hung in the air. Chloe froze mid–motion.

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After a beat of silence, she answered with eerie calm. “I’m trying to free you. You and your real farmily.”

Ian stared at her for a solid five seconds. “Believe what you want, Chloe. But divorce isn’t your call to make.”

She let out a quiet “emm” and kept helping him with his jacket.

She still owed him 300 million.

He wasn’t wrong—he was a businessman through and through. No such thing as a free exit.

The room felt heavy. Neither spoke. Neither looked at the other.

Ian sat on the edge of the bed, head down, face unreadable.

Chloe focused on the welts across his back, her brow furrowed.

This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a beating for her. The first was when he insisted on marrying her–back when her family was flat broken.

The Hamiltons hated the idea. A bankrupt bride? No connections, no money, just dead weight. They said she’d drag him down.

Turns out, they were right. For three years, that’s exactly what she’d been.

But now she wondered if he’d only married her to spite his grandfather.

Edward broke him and Andrea up for not being rich enough—so Ian went and married the poorest girl he

could find.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. Without realizing, she pressed too hard on a wound.

Ian hissed in pain. She snapped back to attention just as the butler knocked and entered.

“The two of you haven’t eaten. Mrs. Hamilton had the kitchen prepare soup. It’s best hot.”

Chloe packed up the medical kit. “I’m not hungry.”

She’d studied medicine–even through the scent of black chicken and spices, she could smell the herbs in the

broth.

The butler stepped closer. “It would mean a lot to Mrs. Hamilton if you had some, ma’am.”

A servant brought over two steaming bowls. Ian took one and drank it straight down.

He picked up the second bowl and held it out to Chloe. “It’s from Mom. Have a little.”

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Chapter 27

The butler didn’t move. Ian kept holding the bowl.

Finally, Chloe took a few small sips just to make them leave.

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Satisfied, Thomas and servant exited. Chloe helped lan into pajamas, then went into the bathroom.

Minutes later, she stumbled out wrapped in a towel, her face flushed.

She grabbed Ian’s arm, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Take me to the hospital. Now.”

If she was right, that “tonic” was spiked with something a lot stronger than herbs.

But before she could finish, Ian pulled her hard against him.

Next thing she knew, she was under him on the bed.

His skin was burning. Her head spun, vision blurring. “Ian, listen the soup was drugged. We have to-

He braced his arms on either side of her, eyes dark with need. “Chloe. Stop fighting me.”

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Chloe glanced at Miranda. “What’s going on?”

She almost asked about the soup–what had been in it? -but held back.

Miranda had always liked her. Didn’t want the marriage to end.

Maybe she’d hoped a baby would fix things.

Miranda was pacing. “Your uncle showed up this morning looking upset. Said something to your father and grandfather–next thing I know, they called Ian down. They’ve been in there almost an hour. After last night… I’m worried.”

Chloe hesitated, then said, “Stay here. I’ll check on him.”

His back was already torn up. After how things went last night… if they hit him again, he might not walk out.

‘Caring about him will only hurt you‘ she told herself.

But Miranda had always been kind to her. Mia had always had her back.

She couldn’t just stand there.

She reached the study hallway only to be stopped by two servants. “No one is allowed past, ma’am.”

Chloe’s voice turned cold. “I’ll take responsibility.”

They didn’t move. “I may not be much in this house,” she said quietly, “but I’m still your mistress. I can have you both fired.”

They exchanged a look and stepped aside.

She crept toward the study door.

She wasn’t there to eavesdrop–just to make sure he wasn’t being hurt again.

The door was thick, blocking all sound. She hesitated, then pushed it open just a crack.

Ian’s voice burst out, raw with anger:

“It’s Andrea I want to marry–not her! Not Chloe!”

“If you hadn’t interfered back then, Andrea and I would’ve been together. You ruined her–you ruined my