[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 160: Answers

NOAH

Mason’s energetic voice blasted through the phone.

"The CEO came in today! Like, unexpectedly! Middle of the afternoon! Everyone freaking freaked, man!"

I sat bolt upright, all sleepiness vanishing instantly. "Cassian? I mean... Mr. Wolfe? He’s at the office?"

"Yeah, dude! Walked in looking all scary and hot, like he was ready to fire half the floor. Everyone’s been on their absolute best behavior. So I figured, if the boss is back, you must be back too! That’s why I called! Wanted to check on you, man!"

My throat felt tight. "Oh. Yeah. I’m back. I just... I’m at home."

"So you coming in tomorrow? Everyone’s asking where you went! You’ve been like a ghost, Noah!"

"I don’t know," I said, deflecting. "I’ve just been swamped with work. How... how have you been? Sorry I haven’t been answering."

"Dude, it’s cool! I figured Wolfe was working you to the bone. Oh! And I think Lila’s going out with some new guy. Her boss or something."

"Oh..."

"Don’t sweat it, man. You can find a new hot chick. Good riddance, right? She was always kind of a... well, you know."

A "hot chick." I tried to picture myself with a woman, tried to imagine the feel of a soft hand in mine, and found... nothing.

My brain refused to conjure the image. All I could see were sharp, dark eyes and a bruised jawline. Being held like something fragile by those strong arms.

What was happening to me?

"By the way," Mason continued, oblivious to my internal crisis. "Crazy you guys came back early! Was it because of the incident?"

My stomach dropped.

"What incident?" I asked nervously. "What incident?"

"Wait, you don’t know? Dude, the whole partnership project! With Hendrix Corporation!"

At the mention of the name Hendrix, my stomach didn’t just drop... it curdled. A wave of nausea rolled over me so violently I had to stand up and stumble toward the sink.

I gripped the edge of the counter, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps. Just the sound of his name made me feel like I was back in that penthouse, helpless and fading.

"Alex Hendrix... " Mason started.

"I don’t want to hear it," I whispered, but Mason was already on a roll.

"... was found dead! Can you believe it? DEAD!"

My breath stopped completely. I felt like the world had tilted on its axis. "What?" I whispered. "What did you say?"

"Yeah, man! Murdered! Some mob connection or something! It’s all over the news, Noah! They found him in a basement! He’s gone man!"

The whole world stopped. My breath included.

"I... I have to go. I’ll call you back, Mason," I managed to choke out, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else... someone being strangled.

"Wait, are you okay? Noah... "

Click.

I hung up, my hand shaking so violently that the phone nearly slid across the kitchen counter.

My heart wasn’t just pounding anymore; it was erratic, skipping beats and then racing to catch up. I grabbed my laptop, my fingers fumbling and tripping over the keys as I typed with a desperate, frantic energy.

Alex Hendrix death. Enter.

The screen exploded with results. It was as if the entire internet had been waiting to scream the news at me.

The Headlines:

"Heir to Hendrix Fortune Found Dead in Industrial District"

"Alex Hendrix Murdered: Mob Hit Suspected in Barcelona"

"Lorenzo Marchetti Arrested for the Brutal Killing of Alex Hendrix"

"The Dark Past of Alex Hendrix: Victims Speak Out After Heir’s Death"

I clicked the first link, then the second, then the third. Dozens of articles, all saying the same thing with chilling consistency. Alex was dead. The details were clinical and horrifying: a body found in a warehouse basement, a single, professional gunshot to the head and multiple gunshots all over his body. The evidence against Lorenzo Marchetti was a mountain... a murder weapon found, incriminating financial records, and security footage of them meeting days prior.

But it wasn’t just the murder. The dam had broken. With Alex gone, the Hendrix family’s power to silence people had evaporated overnight. I scrolled through a piece about Maya Reeves... the reporter She was alive like Cassian had said.

She was actually on camera, composed and fierce, speaking on behalf of her best friend’s family... a girl who had committed suicide a month ago because of Alex’s cruelty.

A sob of pure relief escaped me. She had made It. She was really okay.

But as I read further, a cold, heavy stone settled in my gut. The case was too perfect.

The evidence was too neat. It was a masterpiece of forensic finality. From all the articles I could read, I gathered that Lorenzo Marchetti was a dangerous man, but this... this had the surgical precision of a particular man’s operation.

Cassian.

The thought wasn’t a suspicion; it was a certainty. This had his fingerprints all over it, even if the world saw Marchetti’s. The overwhelming urge to see him, to look into those cold, blue eyes and ask the question that was burning a hole in my mind, became unbearable.

Did you do this?

I tried to talk myself out of it. It was none of my business. The monster was dead, and the law had its culprit. I should stay in my clean, safe apartment and forget the Wolfe empire ever existed. But I couldn’t. I grabbed my phone and scrolled to the contact I hadn’t yet dared to delete: Cassian Wolfe.

I held my breath and hit call. Ringing. Ringing.

"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable... "

I tried again. Same result. He was blocking me out, or he was simply gone.

"No," I whispered, grabbing my jacket. "Not this time."

....

I moved on autopilot. I was a man possessed, navigating the subway and the bus lines with a frantic energy I didn’t know I possessed. I needed answers. I needed to see him. I needed to know that the man who had held me while I cried wasn’t just a different kind of monster.

I arrived at the XUM Corporation building just as the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip behind the skyscrapers.

I stopped on the sidewalk, looking up at the glass-and-steel monolith. This was my workplace... or it had been. I felt like an intruder, a ghost returning to a world that had already moved on.