The Billionaire's Bet

Chapter 4 : Suspicions

I was so fucking clueless.

Evanly

Justin took my hand, his grip gentle but grounding. His brown eyes met mine, softening as he spoke.

"Evie, what are you talking about? Am I not allowed to talk to your sister? She's my friend too."

The words cut deeper than they should have. I blinked, the heat in my chest flickering out just as fast as it had flared. Maybe I was overreacting. God, I felt stupid. Accusing them without a shred of proof.

I scrambled to fix it.

"I—I’m sorry. I was overthinking it. I didn’t mean to sound crazy or anything."

Justin smiled, brushing his thumb against the back of my hand. "It’s fine. And I’m sorry if I made you feel jealous. You know you always come first, my love." His lips pressed against mine, soft but lingering, like he needed me to believe him.

I wanted to.

"It’s not that... but I’ll leave you two to talk. I need to run to the shop."

Justin hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Okay… I’ll see you when you get back."

He kissed my cheek, but I barely felt it. Something felt off. I just didn’t know what.The air outside felt too still, like the world was holding its breath. I walked, forcing myself to focus on the crunch of gravel under my shoes. This neighborhood used to feel like home. Now it felt like a shadow of something I’d left behind. Memories clung to every corner — good ones… but also the kind that made me wish I never came back.

I bought what I needed from the shop and decided to cut through the park on the way back. The sun was sinking, bleeding gold across the sky.

That’s when I saw them.

A group of guys my age, leaning against a bench. Their eyes followed me like I was something to eat.

"Fuck, look at her."

"I’d ride that so hard."

"Bet she’s single."

I ignored them, biting back the urge to flip them off. Not worth it.

But then I saw him.

He sat alone, the only person on the far end of the park. He didn’t fit here — not with his sleek black suit and the way his fingers tapped against his phone like he owned the fucking world. Pale skin, dark hair that barely brushed his ears, and those eyes. Ice-blue, cold enough to cut. A silver ring glinted on his thumb, matching the expensive watch on his wrist. Tattoos crept from beneath his shirt collar, curling over his hands.

He looked like trouble. The kind you run from… or walk straight into.

I sat on the bench across from him, pretending to scroll through my phone.

His voice pulled me out of it.

"Hi there."

I glanced up, and God, that voice. Deep. Smooth. The kind that made promises you knew were lies — but you’d believe them anyway. His Italian accent slipped between the words like honey.