The Billionaire's Betrayed Love.

33: I Let My Ex In My Home.

ALMA

I couldn't avoid it, could I?

This torturous circle that I'd managed to sink into with both my legs. He wasn't going to leave, so I would accept his help.

It was just this once, right? I wondered how everything flipped in just a day. A few hours ago, I couldn't stand him around me; now I was about to get into his car. Why did I feel something flutter in my stomach?

Whatever it was, I was more than determined to drown it to its death.

As Carl opened the car door for me, with his eyes peering into mine, I swallowed hard and let my arms fall to my sides limply, burning under his gaze. In his eyes was something I hated to see, nostalgia.

Care. Affection. It only made me angrier. I huffed, and couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions. "Do you have to do this?"

I rolled my eyes like, somewhere, inside of me, I wasn't hoping for him to stay.

His gesture was kind, and for a moment, I found myself feeling a bit better because it was Carl, even when I knew I shouldn't. He muttered something under his breath, and I furrowed my brow, asking him to repeat himself.

"You're really stubborn, you know that?" he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I missed it."

And there goes my heart, resorting to an aimless marathon. I didn't like the things the words of his mouth made me feel, so I hissed.

"Well, you're not exactly the picture of flexibility either, Carl."

He shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Fair enough."

What was he so happy about? I looked at him, at his lips, and how often I loved to trail my finger on them. That was Linda's position.

Oh, and she was in a fucking hospital, because of him! Talk about a never-ending drama. I couldn't seem to wrap my head around it.

With my directions, we eventually arrived at our destination, my humble abode- I'd say with courtesy if I weren't in a vehicle with the man who'd tried to ruin my life, but the case was not so.

Thankfully, the reporters hadn't found my home yet. I guess they were taking their time; good for me. My sudden game was a bother, thanks to Linda's camera expertise or whoever had taken those photos. That part of the scandal I hadn't quite wrapped my head around.

As we pulled up to the building, I turned to Carl and insisted that he drop me off and leave. But he shook his head, insisting that he accompany me inside.

"It's not safe for you to be alone right now," he said firmly. His voice gave no room for debate, and it made me want to smack him in the face.

Regardless of my firm resolve to stay away from him, I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted him to leave, to avoid any further complications. But another part of me, a part that I couldn't quite explain, felt a sense of comfort in having him by my side.

That was the stupidity brewing. It was just me, being stupid, again.

"Did you plan this?" I cocked my head to the side as I questioned him. "That you'll give me the sad puppy eyes, and I'll let you inside my apartment?"

"You've become a great conspiracy theorist."

"And you're ever so conniving and plotting."

"I'm not the bad guy here, Alma."

I scoffed, leaning back against the chair as I looked out the window and ruffled my hair. "You're right. You're not capable of being the bad guy. You're just the side character that gets killed for being too curious and talking shit."

"Then you have nothing to worry about. I won't talk, and neither will I ask questions."

He sounded so convincing, and desperate. I could almost see the gap between us start to thin out, and that activated my gag reflex.

I searched his eyes for any sign of deceit or ulterior motives, but all I found was sincerity. With a sigh, I relented, nodding my head in agreement.

"Okay," I said softly. "You can come inside. Just the corridor, Aladin."

As we made our way into the building, I couldn't shake off the voice in my head that warned me against this decision. But for now, having Carl by my side felt like the safest option. Whether that was a mistake or not, only time would tell.

"Stay here," I instructed like I spoke to a dog. "Whether or not you confirm it's safe, you're not coming in."

He merely nodded and leaned against the wall with his arms folded, while I walked into my house and slammed the door.

My chest suddenly felt tight. No matter how satisfactory that was, it hurt my heart a little. I was too sensitive for this game, and for Carl, was I...weak?

No. No.

This was just because he'd been helping me, nothing more. I was just being decent, I told myself. With a deep breath, I turned around and made my way back to the door, opening it to find Carl still waiting in the same position in the corridor.

His expression softened when he saw me, and I felt a pang of guilt for slamming the door in his face.

"Sorry about that," I muttered, stepping aside to let him in. "Take those horrible shoes off and come in. I mopped this morning."

"Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's a one-time deal. And it has a deadline."

A smile played on his lips, and Carl nodded, his gratitude evident in his eyes as he stepped inside. "Thanks for letting me in."

I didn't respond. I already hated myself for it.

As he looked around my house, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride. It wasn't the fanciest or most luxurious place, but it was mine, and I had worked hard to make it a comfortable home for Velma and me. Especially as I didn't want any form of attention

Castles are to princesses, and I, Alma Jenkins, was a billionaire businesswoman. I decide my font.

"Nice place," Carl commented, admiring the decor.

"Thanks," I replied, feeling a hint of warmth. "Have a seat. I'll go prepare some food for Velma."

Carl nodded, taking a seat at the dining table as I made my way to the kitchen. I could feel the intensity of his gaze burn the back of my head, like lasers.

I put on my apron and started to cook, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind.

But as I got lost while chopping vegetables and stirring pots, a cooking accident occurred. I had forgotten a pan of oil on the gas, and before I knew it, the kitchen was filled with smoke. The kind that has a particular menace to it.

Maybe it was punishment for bringing him into my home.

Coughing and spluttering, I stumbled backward, feeling overwhelmed by the situation. But before I could react, Carl came running into the kitchen, his face filled with concern.

"Alma, are you okay?" he asked, turning off the gas and opening windows to let the smoke out.

I nodded weakly, still coughing as I tried to catch my breath. "I'm fine, just a little shaken. It's bad luck from your presence here."

Carl sighed, a hint of amusement in his voice as he looked at the mess in the kitchen. "I guess some things never change," he remarked, taking a jab at my cooking skills. "I'm very sure my presence caused the smoke."

"It has to be. The universe has cursed me. Besides, this hasn't happened before."

He cocked a brow, and his expression contorted into a mischievous one. "Because you don't belong in the kitchen, Mrs. Ramsey, " he slipped by me to the other end of the kitchen.

I started, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do? Bully me into becoming a five-star Michelin?"

"No amount of bullying can do that," he joked, overcome by his own humor as he barked a laugh at me. The corners of his eyes squeezed as he laughed, and before I could prevent it, my lips were curved, too...

Despite the chaos and the smoke still lingering in the air, I couldn't help but smile at his words. Maybe having Carl around wasn't such a bad thing after all.

Brain: it is!

Heart: Well...

I hated human fucking anatomy!

As I watched Carl clean up the kitchen and roll up his sleeves to help me cook, I couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over me. His casual demeanor and easy banter reminded me of the times when we used to cook together- he cooked, and I ate- before everything fell apart.

"Stay still, Alma," he joked, flashing me a playful grin. "I'm the new Gordon Ramsay around here. I'll make something for Velma, my little chef-to-be."

My little chef-to-be. Was it even safe to cry or beat him to a pulp with a ladle for being such a bitch?

I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress a smile. "Just don't burn down my kitchen, Carl. And we have limited time. I need to get back as soon as possible, so no fancy platings."

"Understood, ma'am!" He saluted, joking. A joke that shook my heart.

I was being stupid, again.

Again!

As I watched him move around the kitchen with ease, I couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the way things used to be. Despite everything that had happened between us, there was still a part of me that missed this, missed him.

I continued to stare at him as he worked, unable to tear my eyes away. He was so handsome, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed between us. But deep down, I knew that things had changed, and I couldn't afford to get sucked back into the past.

With a sigh, I excused myself and returned to the living room to wait. Time seemed to drag on as I sat alone, the silence haunting in the empty space around me.

After what felt like an eternity, Carl's phone rang, breaking the silence. He'd placed it on the table right before me, and the caller's ID popped as Linda. How did I know?

That was exactly what he saved it as. My heart skipped a beat, and I picked it up to relay it to him. I couldn't add more problems to the ones I have already.

"Your wife called," I said in an icy tone as I handed him his phone. He looked up at me as though he'd seen a ghost.

His wife was my fucking sister. I clenched my fist, choking on the anger surge within me.

"Ignore that."

The phone rang again, immediately after he'd spoken, and he stared hard at it. I couldn't quite read his emotions, but it wasn't anything good. Carl hung up the phone, clicked it off, and tossed it to another side of the table.

Was this how he acted with Linda on days that I called, too? I suddenly felt sick, and jeez! My belly hurts.

"You're not going to answer that?"

"I don't need to."

"She's pregnant and in the hospital!*

"You don't know Linda!"

"And I suppose you do better than I? Considering you've been fucking her?" Why did I say that? I bit on my lower lips subtly, not wanting to draw his attention.

He neither reacted nor said anything.

"You need to go, Carl," I said softly, trying to keep my emotions in check.

He nodded, his gaze meeting mine. "I will after I finish cooking."

I waited in silence as he finished preparing the meal, the tension between us palpable in the air. Finally, when everything was ready, we made our way towards the door, only to find that the worst possible thing.

My building was swarmed by reporters.

The sight sent a shiver down my spine, and I knew that things were about to get even more complicated.