Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 193

Chapter 193: A Walking Disaster

Xander’s Private Residence

Aurora stepped into the bedroom wearing soft loungewear, her damp hair falling over her shoulders. She spotted Xander sitting at the foot of the bed, his phone in hand, typing something with a concentrated look.

“Stella thinks she’s smart.” she began, walking toward him.

Xander glanced up, setting his phone aside. “Let me guess—trying to fish for information regarding the case?”

Aurora nodded, perching herself on the edge of the bed next to him “She’s desperate now, you can feel it in her voice. The guilt is eating her alive, but she’s trying to cover it up by heaping blames on me.”

Xander smirked knowingly. “Of course she’s desperate. She knows the clock is ticking. When the case is reopened, her lies and secrets will be dragged out into the open.”

Aurora sighed, her lips curving into a wry smile. “Let her try all she wants. She can’t escape the truth or the justice waiting for her.”

Without a word, Xander pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled the curve of her neck, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice laced with mischief, “I wonder if you will be able to walk by the time I’m done with you tonight.”

Aurora chuckled, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “You’ll have to try harder, Mr. Scott,” she teased, her eyes glinting with challenge as if she wasn’t tired from the rounds of love making earlier.

“Oh, is that so?” Xander grinned and suddenly tackled her onto the bed. His fingers danced along her sides, tickling her mercilessly until her laughter filled the room.

“Stop! Xander!” Aurora gasped between fits of giggles, trying to push his hands away. But his laughter joined hers, the moment dissolving into a carefree intimacy that erased the tension from earlier.

—

The Swift Family’s Residence

Stella’s pacing grew frantic as her thoughts spiraled into chaos. The phone call about Olivia’s suspension replayed in her mind, amplifying her frustration.

“I knew it,” Stella hissed, gripping her hair in both hands. “Stephanie’s been waiting for this moment to get Olivia out of the company, and that foolish girl walked straight into her trap!”

She paused, her chest heaving as anger and panic warred within her. “Why didn’t she just listen to me?” Stella muttered, her voice trembling. “Why did she have to embarrass herself and the family like that?”

With a frustrated growl, she snatched her phone from the rug and dialled Olivia’s number. It rang once, twice… and went to voicemail. Stella redialled, but the result was the same.

Finally, in a fit of rage, she hurled the phone onto the bed and planted her hands on her hips. “That useless child will destroy everything I’ve worked for!”

—

That late evening, Tea Time Gossip Blog released another juicy article, sparking a wildfire of online chatter.

“Olivia Swift’s Unraveling Saga Continues: From Divorce Papers to Public Brawls!”

The article began with a vivid recount of the scene at Vintage Cellar’s lobby, detailing how Olivia had been restrained by two security guards while attempting to assault Aurora.

In one photo, Olivia was seen being held back, her face contorted with rage. In another, Aurora maintained a calm demeanor amidst the chaos.

“Is Olivia Swift losing her grip on reality?” the article questioned. “After her husband, Owen, publicly served her divorce papers earlier today, Olivia seems to have chosen the worst way to vent her frustrations—by attacking her sister, Aurora, in the lobby of Vintage Cellar. The very same sister she claimed to have a good relationship with during her now-infamous LIVE podcast.”

The article concluded with biting commentary. “Olivia’s actions not only embarrass her but also tarnish the image of the Swift and Scott families. Perhaps what this woman truly needs is professional help.”

Readers flooded the comments section, each more scathing than the last:

Systablaze: “Didn’t she claim everything was fine with her sister? What a pathological liar.”

MomOf4: “She’s unraveling faster than a cheap sweater. Someone call the psych ward.”

Phillipians4:16: “How do you mess up your reputation this badly in one week? Olivia needs a reality check ASAP.”

LOL: “Olivia is determined to turn herself into a meme. Someone stop her before she does more damage.”

—

The Scott Family’s main Residence.

Owen scrolled through the article on his phone, his brows furrowing deeper with each line. He couldn’t believe the depths of Olivia’s antics. By the time he went downstairs for dinner, his parents were already discussing the scandal.

“That girl will ruin our reputation if she hasn’t already,” Patricia fumed, her knife clinking sharply against her plate.

Richard snorted. “She’s a walking disaster. We need to cut her off immediately.”

As Owen pulled out his chair, Patricia turned to him. “Did you see Tea Time’s latest article?”

Owen nodded, piling food onto his plate without a word.

Richard glared at him. “This is your fault! You should never have served her divorce papers so publicly. Now look—our family’s name is dragged into her mess!”

Owen’s jaw tightened. “I had no choice,” he said defensively. “She’s been going around telling people we’re happily married. The only way to force her hand was to do it publicly.”

Richard huffed, crossing his arms. “If you’d stayed faithful to Aurora, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Owen didn’t respond, shame flickering in his eyes as he took a bite of his food. He hated himself for ever getting involved with Olivia. Now look where it landed him.

“Where is she now?” Patricia asked, her voice laced with exhaustion.

“Probably ran back to her mother’s house after today’s embarrassment,” Owen muttered without a care.

—

A Bar in Wing City

Meanwhile, Olivia sat alone at a dimly lit bar, downing glass after glass of beer. Her makeup was smudged, and her eyes were puffy from hours of crying. She slammed an empty glass onto the table, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before signaling for more.

A passing waiter paused to take her order. “Another round,” she demanded, her voice slurred.

The waiter nodded and made his way to the bar, where the bartender glanced toward a man sitting in a shadowy corner. Dressed in a black polo and jeans, the man gave a subtle nod, and the bartender mirrored the gesture.

The bartender poured two glasses of beer but discreetly added a powdered substance to two of them. He stirred them quickly, ensuring it dissolved before placing both glasses on the waiter’s tray.

The waiter returned to Olivia’s table, setting the drinks down. Oblivious to the danger, Olivia grabbed one of the glasses and chugged it down without hesitation.