The Billionaire's Two-Faced Escort Wife-Chapter 102: Gone Forever

Back in the sprawling metropolis, the atmosphere in the executive suite of Devereux Corp was suffocating. The air-conditioning hummed at a freezing temperature, but it wasn’t nearly as cold as the man sitting behind the mahogany desk.

​Alexander sat perfectly still, his eyes unfocused, staring at a stack of acquisition reports. Beside him stood a young man, a highly recommended graduate from an Ivy League school, who was currently stammering through the afternoon schedule.

​"And then, sir, you have the—the press follow-up regarding the merger at four..." the new secretary murmured, his voice trembling. He reached out to place a freshly brewed espresso on the desk, but his hand shook, and the saucer clinked against the wood. In a nervous reflex, his fingers brushed against Alexander’s sleeve.

​Alexander snapped.

​He looked up, his blue eyes like shards of ice. "Don’t touch me," he hissed, the words vibrating with a dark, predatory warning. "And get that swill out of here. It smells like burnt beans and incompetence."

​"I-I’m sorry, Mr. Devereux, I’ll replace it immediately—"

​"Get out," Alexander commanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Get out and don’t come back. Send HR your resignation."

​The young man didn’t argue. He turned and fled the room, nearly tripping over his own feet.

​Alexander leaned back, closing his eyes. Every time he smelled coffee, every time a shadow moved in his periphery, his mind conjured Adrian. He kept expecting to see that composed, slightly defiant face. He kept expecting the sharp wit and the intuitive understanding of his every need.

​He chose to leave, Alexander reminded himself, his jaw tightening until it ached. He stood there and told me it was all a transaction. If he doesn’t want me, then I certainly don’t want him. He resolved then and there to bury the memory. He would turn his heart into a vault and weld the door shut.

​The Mother’s Intuition

​The heavy double doors to his office swung open without a knock. Alexander looked up, ready to roar at whoever dared interrupt him, but the words died in his throat.

​Mrs. Devereux walked in, her face uncharacteristically pale. Behind her followed a woman Alexander recognized immediately: Agatha Vale, Sebastian’s mother.

​Alexander stood up, his posture stiff and hostile. "Mother. And Agatha? I believe your son has done enough damage to my life for one century. I have no business with the Vales. Leave."

​Agatha looked like she had been crying. She stepped forward, her hands twisting her pearl necklace. "Alexander, please. I am here because I am ashamed. I know what Sebastian has done. I know he disrupted your marriage, and I—"

​"He didn’t disrupt anything," Alexander countered, his voice flat. "He merely provided the exit Adrian was looking for. Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

​"Alexander, stop it," Mrs. Devereux interrupted, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She walked over to her son, placing a hand on his arm. "Sit down. And stop blaming Agatha. She had no hand in Sebastian’s madness."

​"I don’t care who had a hand in it! My marriage is over. The ’Adrienne’ story is dead. I’ve made the announcement."

​Mrs. Devereux sighed, looking at him with a mixture of pity and frustration. "Alexander, you need to rethink that announcement. You need to reach out to Adrian."

​The room went silent. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat. He stared at his mother, his eyes wide with shock. "What did you just call him?"

​"Adrian," she repeated calmly. "I knew, Alexander. I knew the first day I saw him."

​Alexander was speechless. "How? How could you possibly know? The makeup, the clothes, the voice—"

​"I am a woman, Alexander," his mother said with a faint, sad smile. "And I have spent forty years navigating high society. I can tell a real woman from a masterpiece of a fake. I saw the way he walked, the way he carried his shoulders when he thought no one was looking. But more than that, I saw the way he looked at you. And I saw the way you looked at him."

​She paused, her eyes softening. "I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me yourself. I saw how happy he made you. I didn’t care about the gender, Alexander. I cared about the light in your eyes."

​Agatha nodded solemnly. "Your mother told me weeks ago. We were both just waiting for the truth to come out naturally. We never expected Sebastian to... to descend into such villainy."

​Alexander sank back into his chair, the world tilting on its axis. His mother—the formidable, traditional Mrs. Devereux—had known all along. She had seen the man behind the gown and had accepted him.

​"It doesn’t matter," Alexander said, shaking his head, though his voice was less certain now. "Sebastian did nothing to force him. Adrian told me over the phone. He said he was staying with Sebastian. He said he chose him. I will never speak of him again."

​ The Final Blow

​Just as Alexander finished his sentence, his personal cell phone—the one only a few people had the number to—began to ring on the desk.

​He glanced at the caller ID. It was the private hospital where he had been paying for Adrian’s mother’s care.

​Alexander frowned, gesturing for his mother and Agatha to be quiet. He answered the call. "This is Alexander Devereux."

​"Mr. Devereux," a somber, professional voice came from the other end. It was the head physician. "I’m calling with heavy news. I’m afraid Mrs. Cole’s vitals dropped sharply ten minutes ago. We did everything we could, but... she passed away just a few seconds ago."

​Alexander felt the breath leave his lungs.

​"She was asking for her son at the very end," the doctor continued softly. "She kept saying she was proud of him. We’ve been trying to reach Mr. Cole, but his line is disconnected. Since you are the primary guarantor on the account, we thought you should know."

​Alexander ended the call, his hand trembling so hard he nearly dropped the phone.

​He looked up at his mother, his face a mask of sudden, horrific realization. Adrian’s mother was dead. The one woman he had sacrificed everything for—his dignity, his identity, his secret—was gone. And Adrian was trapped in Greece, thinking Alexander hated him, with no one to tell him that the reason for his sacrifice had vanished.

​"Alexander?" Mrs. Devereux asked, her voice filled with alarm. "What is it?"

​"She’s dead," Alexander whispered, his voice cracking. "Adrian’s mother. She’s gone."

​He stood up, the chair flying backward. The cold, logical CEO was gone. In his place was a man who realized he had just let the person he loved most walk into hell for a woman who was no longer there.

​"I have to go," Alexander growled, grabbing his jacket. "I don’t care what he said on that phone. I’m going to Greece. And if Sebastian Vale is in my way, I’ll burn that country to the ground."

___

​The sun was beginning to dip behind the Aegean Sea, casting long, bruised shadows across the marble terrace. Adrian sat in the same spot he had occupied for days, his eyes fixed on the horizon, imagining the Atlantic Ocean and the life he had shattered to pieces.

​The door behind him creaked open. Sebastian stood there, no longer the disheveled, drunken man from the Gala, but the polished, calculating architect of Adrian’s misery.

​"Pack your things, Adrian," Sebastian said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We’re going back to New York tonight."

​Adrian didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. "Is this another game, Sebastian? Are you bored of the villa? Or did you run out of ways to make me hate you?"

​Sebastian walked to the railing, looking out at the water. "I told you I wanted to prove I’m not the villain. I know New York is your home. I know your life is there. Keeping you here... it was a mistake. I want you to be with me because you choose to, not because I forced you into exile."

​Adrian let out a harsh, dry chuckle. "And you think a plane ticket changes the blackmail? The recording? The fact that you destroyed the only man I ever loved?"

​"I think it’s a start," Sebastian replied, turning to look at him. "And besides... I know how much you miss your mother. You haven’t seen her in weeks. You promised her a visit after the Gala, didn’t you?"

​At the mention of his mother, Adrian’s armor finally cracked. A sharp, stinging pain flared in his chest—guilt. He had been so caught up in the ’Adrienne’ persona, the Gala, and then the kidnapping, that he hadn’t spoken to her in days. He had let her down. He had let the one person who loved him unconditionally sit in a hospital bed while he played house with a billionaire and then got dragged across the globe.

​"You’d take me to see her?" Adrian asked, his voice trembling.

​"Straight from the airport," Sebastian promised, reaching out to brush a stray hair from Adrian’s forehead. Adrian flinched, but he didn’t pull away. The desperation to see his mother, to hear her voice, to make sure she was okay, outweighed his loathing for the man in front of him. "I want to right my wrongs, Adrian. Get ready. The jet departs in an hour."

​The flight was a blur of silent agony. While Sebastian sat across from him, sipping water and pretending they were a normal couple traveling home, Adrian stared out the window into the black void of the Atlantic.

​He felt a heavy, sickening weight in his stomach. He thought of his mother’s smile, her pride in his "promotion." He had lied to her so many times to protect the Devereux secret. Now, he just wanted to hold her hand and tell her he was sorry.

​He had no idea that while he was crossing the ocean, Alexander Devereux was already on a private hangar in Athens, discovering that Sebastian’s SUV had cleared the tarmac hours ago. He had no idea that the woman he was rushing to see was already lying in a cold, quiet room, waiting for a son who wouldn’t arrive in time.

​When the jet finally touched down at Teterboro, the New York air felt different—heavier, charged with a tension Adrian couldn’t explain.

​"The car is waiting," Sebastian said, guiding Adrian down the stairs. "To the hospital, as promised."

The Silent Hallway

​The drive through Manhattan was agonizingly slow. Adrian watched the city lights, the familiar skyline of Devereux Corp looming in the distance like a tombstone. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to jump out of the car and run—not away from Sebastian, but toward the hospital. Something felt wrong. The air felt thin.

​They arrived at the private wing of the hospital just after 1:00 AM. The hallways were dim, the only sound the soft squeak of the nurse’s shoes on the linoleum.

​Adrian hurried ahead of Sebastian, his heart racing. He reached the door to his mother’s room—Room 412. He paused for a second, smoothing his hair, trying to look like the successful, happy son she expected.

​"Mom?" he whispered, pushing the door open.

​The room was empty.

​The bed was stripped. The heart monitor was dark. The small vase of flowers he had sent weeks ago was gone. The clinical, sterile scent of bleach was the only thing that remained.

​Adrian froze. His breath hitched in his throat. "Mom?" he called out louder, his voice cracking.

​He spun around to see a nurse approaching, a look of profound sympathy on her face. Behind her, Sebastian stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

​"Mr. Cole?" the nurse asked softly.

​"Where is she?" Adrian demanded, his eyes wide and wild. "Where did you move her? She was in 412. Is she in surgery? Why is the room empty?"

​The nurse lowered her head. "Mr. Cole... I’m so sorry. Didn’t the primary contact reach you? Mrs. Cole passed away several hours ago. It was very peaceful. She wasn’t in any pain."

​The world stopped. The floor seemed to vanish beneath Adrian’s feet.

​"Passed away?" Adrian repeated, the words sounding like gibberish. "No. No, I was... I was coming to see her. Sebastian said... he said I could see her."

​He turned to Sebastian, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated horror. Sebastian looked genuinely stunned, his face paling as he realized his "grand gesture" had just turned into a death sentence for his hopes of forgiveness.

​"Adrian, I didn’t know—" Sebastian started, reaching out.

​"Don’t," Adrian hissed, a sound so cold and broken it stopped Sebastian in his tracks. "Don’t you dare touch me."

​Adrian backed away, his chest heaving. She was gone. She was gone, and he had spent her final week in a gilded cage in Greece, lying to the man he loved to save a company, while his mother died calling for a son who was being held captive by a madman.

​Suddenly, the heavy doors at the end of the hallway burst open.

​The sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps echoed through the silent corridor. A man in a dark, rumpled suit, his hair disheveled and his blue eyes burning with a terrifying, redirected grief, rounded the corner.

​Alexander.

​He stopped dead when he saw Adrian standing in the middle of the hallway, pale and trembling, dressed in the clothes Sebastian had bought him. His gaze shifted to Sebastian, and for a moment, the hospital hallway felt like a battlefield.

​Alexander didn’t look at the doctors. He didn’t look at the nurses. He looked straight at Adrian, his voice a low, broken rasp.

​"Adrian," Alexander whispered. "I’m so sorry. I tried to get to you. I tried to tell you."