Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 127

Chapter 127: Ruining His Night

The pulsating music and flashing lights of the club greeted Olivia as she pushed her way through the sweaty, writhing bodies on the dance floor. Her sharp eyes scanned the crowd until she flagged down a waiter.

“I’m looking for Owen Scott,” she said curtly, her tone brooking no nonsense.

The waiter pointed toward a private room at the back. Without a word of thanks, Olivia strode toward the door and shoved it open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her. Owen lounged on a plush couch, his arms wrapped around two women, their laughter mingling with the bass-heavy music. Glasses of whiskey and champagne littered the table, and the other guests in the room froze at the intrusion, their gazes snapping toward the furious woman standing in the doorway.

But Owen and his companions remained oblivious, lost in their debauchery.

Olivia’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms as her gaze fell on a glass of whiskey on the table. Snatching it up, she splashed its contents across Owen and the two women, the amber liquid soaking their clothes.

“What the fuck!” Owen cursed, jerking upright as the women shrieked in surprise, jumping away from him.

Their collective shock quickly turned to dread as they recognized the figure standing before them.

“Oh, it’s you,” Owen said dismissively, leaning back against the couch. His nonchalance fanned the flames of Olivia’s fury. The two women scrambled off the couch and slipped away, avoiding Olivia’s burning glare.

“You’ve sunk so low,” Olivia spat, her voice trembling with rage. “You left your pregnant wife at home to come here and make out with random women? You’re pathetic, Owen!”

Owen waved her off lazily, clearly unbothered by her words. “If you are done yelling, you can leave. You are ruining the vibe.”

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the room. The other guests exchanged glances, stunned by the unfolding drama.

But Olivia wasn’t going to let Owen humiliate her without a fight. Straightening her shoulders, she fixed him with a glare that could cut through steel. “Come home with me. Now.”

Owen smirked, unimpressed. “Or what?”

“Or,” Olivia hissed, her voice venomous, “I will send pictures and videos of you making out in a club to every gossip blog in the city.”

Owen’s smirk faltered, but he forced a laugh. “I don’t care.”

“Maybe not,” Olivia agreed, her tone sharp and cutting. “But your family does. Imagine the headlines tomorrow: ‘Scott Heir Caught Cheating on Pregnant Wife in Club Scandal.’ I don’t think your precious family’s reputation can survive the fallout.”

The room fell silent, every guest holding their breath as the weight of her words sank in. Owen’s jaw tightened, and his carefree facade cracked.

With a sigh of frustration, he stood and straightened his jacket. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Congratulations on ruining my night.”

Owen turned to shake hands with his friends, muttering promises to catch up later. As he and Olivia left the room, her sharp glare swept over the women who had been with him moments earlier. They averted their eyes, shrinking back.

—

Back at the house, Owen stormed up to the bedroom with Olivia hot on his heels. As soon as the door slammed shut behind them, she rounded on him.

“I have tried to be patient with you, Owen, but it’s not working!” she snapped, her voice rising with every word.

“Then don’t be!” Owen shot back, his voice cold as he stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Olivia stood frozen, her hands balled into fists at her sides. Fury coursed through her veins, and bitterness churned in her chest. She glared at the closed bathroom door, cursing him under her breath.

“That bastard!”

A soft chime from her purse broke her thoughts. Frowning, she pulled out her phone and saw a text from Nene.

“Mrs. Scott will be back in three days. You can call by then.”

Relief flickered in Olivia’s eyes as she read the message, her anger at Owen momentarily overshadowed by the satisfaction of knowing she would finally meet Mrs. Scott.

Stuffing her phone back into her purse, she glanced toward the bathroom door, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “You won’t win forever, Owen,” she muttered, her voice low but filled with resolve.

—

~Octavia Empire~

At the same time, at Octavia Kingdom, something new was brewing.

The light breeze of the Octavia morning teased the edges of the Princess’s golden hair as she sat on the balcony, a steaming cup of tea in hand and a glossy business magazine resting lightly on her lap.

The rustle of the palace gardens below provided a serene backdrop as she turned a page, her sharp blue eyes scanning the latest features on international business ventures.

The soft shuffle of footsteps announced her secretary’s arrival. He bowed respectfully, his demeanour crisp yet different.

“Your Royal Highness,” he began, his tone formal but tinged with satisfaction. “His Majesty, the King, has approved your diplomatic visit to Wing City next month. However, it will now be a state visit.”

The Princess’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, and she paused mid-sip. “He’s coming along?”

“Yes, Your Highness,” the secretary confirmed, his gaze steady.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she set the cup gently onto the saucer. The news wasn’t entirely unexpected, though it did add complexity to her plans.

“Very well,” she said, her voice measured and composed. “Prepare my itinerary accordingly. I want a visit to Vintage Cellar included in the schedule.”

The secretary inclined his head, dutifully noting her request.

“And,” she added, her voice firm but laced with a hint of indulgence, “amidst the state engagements, ensure I have a full day of private time. I trust you will make it happen.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” he replied, bowing deeply before excusing himself with a graceful exit.

Left alone once more, the Princess reclined slightly, her slender fingers brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. A small, knowing smile played on her lips as she picked up her tea again, her eyes drifting to the horizon.

Her thoughts lingered on Wing City and the unfolding intrigue surrounding a particular someone. For now, however, she chose to enjoy the tranquil moment. The magazine once again captured her attention as she resumed reading, the light breeze carrying with it the scent of roses from the garden below.