Billionaire’s Ex-wife : Craving You

Chapter 51

Chapter 51 HAZEL (FIVE YEARS AGO) I’ve never felt such strong resentment towards anyone like I do towards Harrison at this moment. The intensity of my dislike for him surpasses even the aversion I felt for Kelvin when he introduced me to drugs. Exiting the restaurant, I paid no attention to Oscar and his group, and instead, I stepped out into the light drizzle of rain. Could this day possibly become any worse? It began with an encounter with Mrs. Southwark, followed by the unpleasant encounter with Harrison. Now, I find myself walking through the rain, driven more by a desire to do so rather than any external compulsion. The situation has reached its lowest point – I’ve lost my job. I clenched my lips together, struggling to suppress tears that threatened to escape due to a mixture of anger and frustration. I pondered why my life never follows the path I’ve envisioned. What lies ahead now? My future hinges on Ravel’s support. Not only am I unemployed, but I’ve also lost my place to live. Or perhaps I should consider filling out the uncashed check from my drawer. Engrossed in contemplation about my life’s circumstances, I accidentally collided with someone. Recoiling slightly from the impact, I braced myself for an impending fall. Yet, instead of hitting the cold ground, a warm hand encircled my waist, steadying me. Assured that I wouldn’t end up on the frigid floor, I opened my eyes to see the face of the stranger who had intervened. He gazed back at me, his brow furrowed in genuine concern. “Are you alright? You seemed really lost in your thoughts. “I apologize… I just wasn’t paying attention,” I admitted. As I attempted to move past him, he caught hold of my arm, preventing me from leaving. Leaning down to match my eye level, he studied my expression. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re on the verge of breaking down.” Suppressing the urge to cry, I bit my lip, but a solitary tear managed to escape. All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

“Da mn,” he murmured softly, “I didn’t mean to bring you to tears.” With a bitter chuckle, I brushed away my tears. “No need to apologize, sir. My tears have nothing to do with you.”

“Do you want to share what’s troubling you?” he inquired, his eyes a blend of concern and curiosity. “You never know, I might have a way to help.” I found it hard to believe his claim. “I lost my job and my place because my boss turned out to be a creepy pe rvert,” I muttered, my frustration evident. “What could you possibly do about that?” His jaw clenched, his gaze shifting as if he were calculating something. “Did he make unwelcome advanees toward you?” he questioned, locking eyes with me once more. Why am I even discussing this with a stranger? Shouldn’t I be talking to Ravel instead? Gathering my thoughts, I gradually extricated my hand from his grasp. “You know what?” I said, my tone more resolute. “Forget it, I can handle things on my own.” “You can’t just let him off the h ook so easily,” he muttered, his tone tense. Confused and slightly wary, I took a step back from him. “I never indicated that I would.” “Then allow me to assist you,” he persisted. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s not necessary,” I reassured him. “I already have someone willing to help me seek justice.” I managed a tight smile. “Thank you, though. I need to be on my way.” I walked past him, and he didn’t attempt to stop me or call after me. Entering Ravel’s living room, soaked from the rain, I found him emerging from the kitchen, bare- chested, holding a glass Of wine. He paused, his gaze fixed on me as I stood in the center of the room, water dripping from me. “I was just about to give you a call,” he said, his voice rough. I gazed at him, my teeth chattering and my voice raspy, rendering me incapable of forming a coherent sentence. “Hazel?” Ravel closed the distance between us swiftly, his hands gripping my chilled shoulder. A frown etched across his face as he took in my wet attire and shivering form. “What the hell happened? Did you walk all the way here?” Without awaiting my response, he seized my hand and led

me into his bedroom. “Get out of those wet clothes, I’ll prepare a hot bath for you.” Nodding, I began unbuttoning my shirt while he headed to the bathroom to ready the bath. By the time he returned, I stood completely undressed. His gaze briefly lingered on my bare chest before returning to meet my eyes. “I’ll make you something warm to drink,” he said, his tone gentle. “Don’t stay in the bath too long, we wouldn’t want the water to turn cold.” I offered a slight nod in response. He leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my forehead and then holding my cheeks in his hands. “I’m going to make sure you’re warm, and then we’ll have a conversation, okay?” “Yes,” I affirmed. “Good.” He pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “I love you.” “I love you too.” We held each other’s gaze momentarily before he exited the room. Afterward, I made my way to the bathroom, taking a bath and allowing the warmth to seep into my chilled bones. When I emerged, I selected one of his shirts, slipped into it, and ventured out to find him. Navigating to the kitchen, I discovered him laying out dinner on the island counter. Despite having a formal dining room, we rarely used it. “Did you manage to get the recipe right this time?” I inquired, a playful smile tugging at my lips. The last attempt had been quite the disaster. He chuckled. “It’s edible, if that’s what you’re wondering.” In just a matter of minutes, Ravel managed to make me forget the troubles of my day. He pulled out a chair for me, silently inviting me to sit, and then pushed a plate my way while pouring wine into a glass. Muttering my gratitude, I began to eat. He observed me as I ate, his gaze steady, before finally addressing the question that had been on his mind. “Are you planning to share what happened today?” I let out a sigh, audibly expressing my frustration, and picked up my glass without actually drinking from it. “I got fired, and then I decided to quit.” A furrow formed between his brows, clearly puzzled by my response. “Did you get fired, or did you quit?” I shrugged and took a gulp of wine. “I would have quit even if I hadn’t been fired.”

“Alright…” he said slowly, clearly trying to comprehend. “Why? What led to that decision?” Ravel might lose his cool if I tell him. “Promise me you won’t do anything as reckless as confronting Harrison physically.” He suddenly stiffened, leaning forward. “What did he do?” His voice carried a low, dangerous growl. The memory of that unsettling encounter in the office sent a shiver down my spine. “He forcibly kissed me and tried to touch me,” admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. His jaw clenched tightly. “What the hell did you just say?” Quickly attempting to quell his rising anger, I assured him, “Nothing more happened. I managed to stop him before he could do anything further, and then he fired me.” “What made him think he could do something like that?” His eyes brimmed with anger, making me worry that he might take impulsive actions we’d both regret. “Ravel,” I whispered, sliding off the stool. I walked around the table, creating some distance between him and the island, and then I settled onto his thigh. “I don’t want you to go after him. I want to leave it all in the past.” He remained silent, his emotions difficult to read. “I’m not planning to return there, I have no reason to.” “You expect me to just let him off the h ook?” His tone was conflicted. “I don’t want you to entangle yourself in this mess, Ravel,” I implored. The last thing I needed was for his reputation to be tarnished by my issues. His mother will hate me the more if happens. “Promise me.” His gaze remained locked on me, unable to voice the words I needed to hear. “Ravel?” “Alright,” he exhaled in frustration, “I promise not to get involved.” Perfect. Maybe now we can shift the conversation to my living arrangements.