The Billionaire's Two-Faced Escort Wife-Chapter 78: Intruder

Adrian sat on the bed, watching Agatha set a table by the side of the bed.

He could see her, he could hear her, but his mind was locked on the bathtub scene.

Alexander had said he loved him. Well, not directly, but... ’Until you let me love you the way you deserve.’

It sounded just like he had said the three words, right?

"Adrian, can you eat by yourself? Do you need me to feed you?" Agatha asked, pushing the table close to Adrian’s table.

"It’s okay, Agatha, I can –"

"He can’t," A voice said from the door, footsteps following as the person walked into the room.

"Mr. Vale? Mr. Devereux will be very displeased to find you in his room. Please, can you wait in the living room?" Agatha asked, her eyes darting toward the door as she scanned for Alexander, who had gone to attend something in the study.

Adrian was frozen in place as he stared at Sebastian’s unbothered face. Sebastian was the last person he expected to walk through Alexander’s door.

What insane thoughts were going through Sebastian’s mind for him to do such a thing?

"You can go, Agatha. I’ll feed him," Sebastian said, walking over to the side of the bed.

"Mr. Vale, are you sure?" Agatha asked.

Sebastian paused, turned to her and nodded his head, "I’m sure, Agatha. Please, go about your day," he said.

With a sigh, Agatha nodded and left the room.

Finally, Sebastian turned to Adrian, his lips lifting in a soft smile.

"What are you doing here?" Adrian asked, clutching the sheets in his hands.

"How are you feeling?" Sebastian questioned gently, leaning forward to touch Adrian’s cheek.

Adrian almost recoiled when Sebastian’s hand touched his cheek. It felt like a stain after what Alexander had unleashed in him with those confusing words he said in the bathtub.

"I’m fine. You shouldn’t be here, Sebastian," Adrian murmured, holding Sebastian’s hand on his cheek, "Alexander is not going to be happy seeing you here." He said softly, biting his lip to stop himself from brutally asking Sebastian to let him go.

Sebastian smiled, slowly leaning in.

Then—

A soft click sounded from the door.

Both men froze.

Sebastian turned slowly.

Alexander stood in the doorway.

Expression murderous.

Eyes burning.

Jaw clenched hard enough to crack.

"Ah, Alexander. You’re home," Sebastian said, fixing a hand in his pocket.

"Leave my room, Sebastian," Alexander spoke very calmly, his eyes were the only thing that gave way to the storm in his eyes.

Sebastian slowly turned to Adrian, then back to Alexander.

"In the hospital, I think Adrian’s made it very clear who he trusts," Sebastian said quietly. "And it’s not you."

Alexander’s entire body went still—cold, controlled, lethal.

Adrian’s breath hitched.

Sebastian stepped forward.

Alexander tightened his jaws, eyes darkening as he glared at Sebastian.

The room crackled with a violent, territorial tension that could shatter bone.

"Get out," Alexander said.

Sebastian didn’t move.

"I’m taking him home," Sebastian replied.

Alexander’s voice dropped to something low and chilling—something dangerous enough to end everything.

"Over my dead body."

Adrian’s heart stopped.

​The air in the room was electric, thick with Alexander’s murderous rage. The tableau—Sebastian leaning intimately over Adrian, Adrian’s wounded body on Alexander’s bed, Sebastian’s challenging smile—was a deliberate provocation.

​Alexander didn’t move past the doorway, yet his presence was a suffocating force. He was a statue carved from pure fury, the calm tone of his voice only making his threat more terrifying.

​"Over my dead body," Alexander repeated, the words settling like ice.

​Sebastian maintained his composure, but his smile faltered slightly. He knew Alexander’s limits, and he sensed he was rapidly approaching them. He glanced at Adrian, then back at Alexander.

​"Alexander, this isn’t a business transaction," Sebastian said, attempting to introduce reason into the volatile situation. "Adrian is hurt. He needs care, and he clearly asked for me at the hospital. I can provide him with a stable environment where he isn’t afraid of being—"

​"Afraid of being what?" Alexander took one slow, deliberate step into the room, and the entire atmosphere shifted, pushing Sebastian backwards. "Afraid of being claimed?"

​Alexander didn’t look at Sebastian; his gaze was fixed entirely on Adrian, a desperate, possessive claim in his eyes that Adrian felt deep in his gut.

​Adrian, still shell-shocked by the bathtub confession and the brutal abandonment, finally found his voice, weak but firm.

​"Sebastian, please go," Adrian whispered, looking at Sebastian with tired, genuine regret. "This isn’t worth it. Just... go."

​Sebastian’s expression hardened. He was fighting for Adrian, but he was also fighting a territory battle with Alexander, and Adrian’s appeal felt like a surrender.

​"Adrian, he hurt you. He put you in the hospital. Don’t you see this man is dangerous?" Sebastian pressed, turning to him fully.

​Before Adrian could reply, Alexander was moving. Swiftly and silently, he crossed the room, grabbed Sebastian’s arm in a vice-like grip, and hauled him back toward the door. The move was so sudden and powerful that Sebastian didn’t even have time to brace himself.

​"I gave you a choice, Sebastian. You chose to invade my private residence, my room, and touch what is mine," Alexander’s voice was a low snarl, pure masculine dominance. "I suggest you run."

​He shoved Sebastian hard into the hallway outside the room. Sebastian stumbled but caught himself, rubbing his arm where Alexander’s fingers had left an angry red mark.

​"You won’t get away with this, Alexander," Sebastian hissed, his face pale with fury. "You can’t keep him prisoner!"

​Alexander didn’t bother to reply. He slammed the door shut, the heavy wood vibrating with the force, and locked it with two sharp, metallic clicks.

​He stood with his back to the door for a moment, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling quickly. The murderous rage slowly subsided, replaced by an exhausted, desperate intensity.

​He turned to face Adrian. The sudden violence and the intense declaration of ownership—"touch what is mine"—had stripped away any pretence of the professional arrangement.

​Adrian stared at him, clutching the sheets to his chest, his eyes wide and scared.

​Alexander walked over to the side of the bed, slowly, deliberately, as if approaching a skittish, wounded animal. He didn’t touch Adrian; he simply sank onto the mattress, his exhaustion palpable.

​"You hate me," Alexander stated, the admission a bleak, raw echo of Adrian’s own words. He didn’t ask it as a question.

​Adrian looked away, unable to lie. "Yes."

​Alexander closed his eyes briefly. "I deserve it. Leaving you there was the worst thing I’ve ever done. I was a monster." He opened his eyes, and they were clouded with pain. "But I brought you back. I put you here, in my space. And I will keep you safe. No more streets. No more alleys. No more Sebastian. No more Chloe. I will handle them all."

​He picked up the spoon that Sebastian had abandoned on the side table and met Adrian’s gaze.

​"Agatha was right. You can’t eat alone. Let me feed you, Adrian. Until you can manage yourself."

​He scooped a small spoonful of soup—a simple, grounding act of care that starkly contradicted the violent possessiveness of the last ten minutes. He held it out.

​"We don’t have to talk about what I said in the bathtub, or what I just did to Sebastian. But you need to heal. And I will be here until you do."

​Adrian looked from the offered spoon, to Alexander’s exhausted, intense face. Alexander had just physically assaulted his friend-rival, confessed his monstrousness, and was now offering a spoonful of soup. The confusion, the fear, and the bizarre flicker of relief that he was finally safe paralysed him.

Adrian stared at the spoon, then at the man holding it. Alexander’s intense face, stained with exhaustion and vulnerability, was a stark contradiction to the violence he had just displayed. The spoon represented an act of intimate care from the same hands that had slapped him away hours earlier. The confusion, fear, and bizarre flicker of relief that he was finally safe paralysed him.

​He knew he had to establish a boundary, even from the safety of Alexander’s bed. He couldn’t allow Alexander to switch between abuser and caregiver without consequence, especially not after that confusing declaration in the bathtub.

​Adrian slowly extended a shaky, bandaged hand and gently pushed the spoon away.

​"I can hold the spoon, Alexander," Adrian said, his voice raspy but steady. He looked directly into Alexander’s eyes. "But you can’t feed me. That is not part of the agreement."

​He watched Alexander’s expression tighten, anticipating the inevitable snap of rage.

​Adrian continued, his voice firm despite the pain in his body. "And we do have to talk about what you said. Because if I am to stay here for one year under the terms you just dictated—for the promise of my freedom—then you need to understand the rules of my survival."

​He paused, gathering his strength.

​"First," Adrian stated, meeting Alexander’s gaze with wounded resolve, "You will never physically harm me or use force to confine me again. If you do, the contract is void, and I will walk away and let the debt stand. I would rather be poor and free than be your prisoner."

​"Second, you will stop referring to me as ’mine’ or ’property’ to Sebastian, Xueyi, or anyone else. I am your employee, not your possession. You will treat me with the professional respect that title demands."

​"Third," Adrian’s voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through, "The terms of our... intimacy remain my choice alone. What happened this morning, and what you attempted at the atelier, will not happen again without my express consent. This is a place for healing, not for demands."

​Adrian finished, utterly spent. He lay back against the pillows, waiting for Alexander to erupt, to prove him right about the monster lurking beneath the surface.

​Alexander remained completely still, the untouched spoon hovering in the air. He studied Adrian’s pale, bruised face, absorbing the fierce defiance that shone through the pain. He saw the strength that refused to be broken, and the clarity of the demands—they weren’t asking for money, but for dignity and safety.

​Slowly, Alexander lowered the spoon and placed it gently on the tray. He didn’t erupt; he didn’t argue.

​"I understand," Alexander finally said, his voice flat but firm, the admission of guilt implicit in the submission. "I accept those terms. They are non-negotiable, and I will adhere to them. Your safety, your physical autonomy, and your professional dignity are guaranteed."

​He reached out, not to touch Adrian, but to pick up the tray and position it squarely over Adrian’s lap.

​"Now, eat, Adrian. I will sit here, and I won’t touch you unless you ask. But you will not starve yourself on my watch."

​Alexander settled back on the bed, sitting rigidly upright, his hands resting on his knees. He looked imposing, dangerous, yet completely controlled. He had conceded the battle for Adrian’s will, but he clearly hadn’t relinquished the fight for his presence.