[BL] Bound to My Enemy: The Billionaire Who Took My Girl-Chapter 29: Provocation

NOAH

Dinner was a special kind of torture.

The kind that looked perfect from the outside... a warm family gathering, delicious food, laughter filling the air... but felt like slowly drowning from the inside.

The seating arrangement said everything.

My father sat at the head of the table, naturally. The patriarch. The king of this little kingdom.

My mother sat to his right, close enough to serve him, attend to him, make sure his glass never went empty.

And Nick sat to his left.

The place of honor.

Right beside our father, where everyone could see him, where every smile and laugh and clever comment would be noticed and appreciated.

I was at the far end.

Squeezed between Aunt Mirae and Mrs. Choi from church, two elderly women who spent the entire meal talking across me like I was a piece of furniture.

"...and then I told her, ’You can’t just plant tomatoes anywhere... ’"

"Oh, I know! The soil has to be just right... "

"Exactly! And the drainage... "

I sat there, fork pushing food around my plate, as their conversation washed over me.

Every time I tried to contribute... tried to say anything... one of them would talk right over me.

"Actually, I’ve been trying to grow... "

"...and that’s when my back went out again! Can you believe it?"

"Oh, that sounds terrible... "

It was like I didn’t exist.

Like my voice didn’t carry sound.

At one point, I attempted a joke. Something harmless about the japchae being so good it should be illegal.

Nobody laughed.

Nobody even acknowledged I’d spoken.

Mrs. Choi just kept talking about her hydrangeas.

I went back to pushing food around my plate, throat tight, jaw clenched.

Down the table, I could hear my father’s booming laugh. Nick saying something that made everyone chuckle. My mother beaming with pride.

I might as well have been eating alone.

The toasts started after the main course.

My father’s colleague stood first, raising his glass with a broad smile.

"To Mr. Bennett! A man of integrity, wisdom, and exceptional taste in sons!"

Laughter. Applause.

My father raised his glass, looking pleased.

Then one of my mother’s church friends stood.

"To a wonderful father and husband! May this year bring you continued blessings!"

More applause.

I raised my glass mechanically, lips forming the shape of a smile that felt like it was carved into my face.

And then Nick stood.

The room fell silent immediately.

Everyone turned to look at him, faces bright with anticipation.

He held his glass up, expression solemn and sincere.

"I want to thank everyone for coming tonight to celebrate the most important man in my life."

His voice was smooth. Practiced. Perfect.

"Dad, you’ve been my role model, my mentor, my hero. Everything I’ve achieved is because you taught me to never settle for second best."

His eyes flickered to me for just a fraction of a second.

A pointed look.

So brief that nobody else would have caught it.

But I did.

Never settle for second best.

The message was clear.

You’re second best. You’ve always been second best.

My hand tightened around my glass.

Nick continued, turning back to our parents with that warm, affectionate smile.

"And Mom, you’ve sacrificed so much to make sure we... "

He caught himself.

Paused.

"... that I had every opportunity to succeed. I hope these small tokens show how much I appreciate you both."

He reached down and pulled out two elegantly wrapped boxes from beside his chair.

The room collectively held its breath.

Nick handed the first box to my father.

My father opened it slowly, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper.

When he lifted the lid, his eyes widened.

"Nicholas..."

He pulled out a watch.

Not just any watch.

A Rolex Submariner.

Sleek. Elegant. Expensive.

Someone gasped. "Is that... "

"A Rolex," another guest breathed. "That’s at least fifteen thousand dollars!"

My father stared at it, genuinely moved. "Son, this is... this is too much."

"Nothing’s too much for you, Dad," Nick said warmly.

The second box went to my mother.

She unwrapped it with trembling hands, and when she saw what was inside, she actually teared up.

A Louis Vuitton Neverfull bag.

Classic. Elegant. The kind of bag she’d probably never buy for herself.

"Oh, Nicholas..." Her voice broke. "It’s beautiful."

She stood up and pulled Nick into a tight hug, kissing his cheek.

My father stood too, clapping Nick on the shoulder, eyes bright with pride.

The guests applauded.

"What a thoughtful son!"

"So generous!"

"You raised him well!"

I sat there, hands clenched in my lap, watching the scene unfold like I was watching a movie I wasn’t part of.

My gifts... a plain navy tie and a pair of shoes... were still sitting on the side table by the entrance.

Unopened.

Forgotten.

My throat burned.

And then Nick’s eyes found mine across the table.

"Noah!"

His voice cut through the applause.

Everyone turned to look at me.

My face immediately burned.

Nick smiled... bright, concerned, friendly.

"You don’t look very happy. Don’t you want to congratulate Dad?"

Every single eye in the room was on me now.

My mouth went dry.

My mother jumped in quickly, laughing nervously. "You know how shy Noah gets in crowds! He’s happy, aren’t you, Noah?"

I forced my face into the biggest, fakest smile I’d ever worn.

It felt like my cheeks were going to crack.

"Of course! Happy birthday, Dad."

My voice sounded hollow. Strained.

There was a smattering of weak applause.

A few pitying looks.

My father nodded. "Thank you, Noah."

Polite. Distant. Obligatory.

And then the conversation moved on.

Back to Nick.

Back to his success, his generosity, his perfection.

I sat there, smile still plastered on my face, feeling like I was disappearing.

Fading into nothing.

By the time dinner ended, most of the guests had left.

A few elderly relatives lingered in the living room, chatting over tea.

I escaped to the kitchen and started clearing plates.

The repetitive task was almost soothing.

Stack. Scrape. Rinse. Repeat.

My hands moved on autopilot while my brain replayed every humiliation from the evening.

The way my father hadn’t even opened my gifts.

The way my mother had unwrapped them earlier, her face falling. "Oh. A tie. How... practical."

Not "thank you."

Not "this is nice."

Just practical.

Like I’d bought him a new dish sponge.

Meanwhile, Nick’s gifts had been paraded around the room. Shown off. Admired.

I stacked another plate, harder than necessary.

The kitchen door swung open behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

Nick.

I could feel his presence like a cold draft.

He didn’t help.

Just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me work.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

"So," he said finally. "Executive Assistant."

I didn’t respond.

Just kept stacking plates.

"I’m actually curious," he continued, voice casual. Conversational. "How’d you pull it off? Did you beg? Grovel? Offer to work for free?"

My jaw tightened.

I said nothing.

"Or maybe you’re just really good at being a doormat," Nick mused. "Is that it? You let him walk all over you and he felt sorry enough to promote you?"

My hands were trembling now.

I gripped the edge of a plate hard enough that my knuckles went white.

Nick laughed... soft, mocking.

"Come on, Noah. You can drop the act. It’s just us. You don’t seriously think you earned that position on merit, do you?"

"Can you just leave me alone?" My voice came out quieter than I intended. Strained.

"Why?" Nick asked. "Does the truth hurt?"

I didn’t answer.

Just kept stacking plates, each movement more mechanical than the last.

The silence stretched again.

Then Nick shifted tactics.

"You should just give up, you know."

I finally looked at him. "What?"

His expression was almost pitying now.

"Trying to impress Dad. You’ve been doing it your whole life and it’s pathetic. He only cares about my achievements. Not yours. The sooner you accept that, the easier your life will be."

The words hit like physical blows.

I turned back to the dishes. "I’m not trying to impress anyone."

"Liar."

Silence.

I focused on scraping food off plates, trying to block him out.

But Nick wasn’t done.

"By the way..." His tone shifted. Lighter now. Almost casual. "Where’s Lila? I thought she’d be here."

I stiffened.

"That’s none of your business."

"So she really did break up with you."

My stomach clenched but I didn’t respond.

Nick laughed. "Wow. I didn’t actually think she’d go through with it."

My blood turned to ice.

I turned slowly to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

Nick was smirking now.

Full, genuine amusement lighting up his face.

"She told me she was going to leave you. Months ago, actually."

"You’re lying."

"Am I?"

"Lila would never..." My voice was shaking now. "She wouldn’t tell you anything. You barely know her."

Nick’s smile widened.

Cruel. Satisfied.

"Oh, Noah. Sweet, naïve Noah."

He pushed off the counter and stepped closer.

Close enough that I could see the cold satisfaction in his eyes.

His voice dropped to a near-whisper.

"She told me while she was bouncing on my dick."