Page 43 of The Billionaire’s Betrayal (Billionaires of Paris #2)

EVA

The doorbell rang at Steve’s apartment. When I opened the door, a delivery guy smiled at me, almost entirely hidden behind an enormous bouquet of red roses.

Their intoxicating scent instantly filled the hallway.

It was the third delivery this week. Ever since Tristan had found out where I was, he seemed determined to bridge the distance between us with an avalanche of gifts.

Every day, he sent me something—flowers, artwork, outrageously expensive jewelry. I didn’t really care about the monetary value, but I had to admit, the gesture touched me deeply.

With each carefully chosen present, he showed me how much I meant to him, how much he thought about me despite our separation. His quiet yet unwavering devotion slowly soothed the turmoil in my soul, rekindling my faith in the future—in us.

A note came with the roses.

I’d give you the stars if I could, but since I can’t reach them, here are some flowers to brighten your day. I love you, Eva. Tristan.

Since we’d found out about my pregnancy, Steve had been watching over me with an almost annoying level of attentiveness, making sure I ate properly and got enough rest.

Now that I knew I was pregnant, I finally allowed myself to truly listen to my body, to give in—without guilt—to the overwhelming fatigue that often consumed me.

I slept a lot, especially since morning sickness had started dictating my schedule.

How could something so tiny, barely even visible, cause such a massive upheaval inside me? It was insane.

As I placed the roses in a vase, I couldn’t help but notice how weighed down Steve looked, as if the entire world rested on his shoulders.

That evening, we sat in the living room—me curled up in a cozy armchair, a book in my hands, and him on the couch, pretending to read a magazine. I caught his furtive, almost worried glances in my direction.

I sighed inwardly. The silent tension hovering between us had become unbearable. Finally, after yet another sideways glance, I decided to break the heavy silence.

“Steve, what’s going on? You’ve been looking at me like you have something on your mind. Just say it.”

He startled slightly, caught off guard by my bluntness. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw a mix of hesitation and determination in his gaze.

“Well, the thing is…” he began, sitting up and setting the magazine down on the coffee table.

He hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Tristan and I talked—a lot. And… I think you need to talk to him.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he held up his hands to stop me.

“Wait, let me finish. I know he hurt you, and no apology can erase that. But I really believe he regrets what he did, and he’ll never make that mistake again.

I know there’s still love between you two.

You don’t love someone that intensely, that deeply, and just stop overnight.

Give him a chance to explain himself. Talk to him.

Then, you decide what to do. Do it for both of you—and for your baby. ”

I was touched by his genuine concern but also amused.

“Steve, I already agreed to give him a second chance,” I told him. “I’m just making him work for it a little.”

“Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you tell me?!” he exclaimed.

“It was cute watching you defend him.”

“You’re impossible,” he groaned, but there was no malice in his voice. I burst out laughing.

For the past few days, Satoshi and Leila had been keeping me updated on the challenges Tristan was facing.

He had thrown himself headfirst into rescuing the Australian branch, pushing himself beyond exhaustion.

That was so Tristan—always there when needed, never sparing himself, no matter the situation.

His natural generosity and unwavering commitment were some of the many reasons I had fallen in love with him.

More than anyone, I understood the immense pressure and mental strain he was under, especially with me gone. Leila had told me he’d taken on most of my urgent cases so I wouldn’t be overwhelmed when I returned. That meant a lot to me, even though I knew the extra weight was crushing him.

Since learning he had never received my message, he’d left me multiple voicemails and texts, none of which I had answered. I had felt numb, drifting through a fog.

But tonight, hearing his voice over the phone, hearing his pain, snapped me out of it.

He was on the edge, and I couldn’t stand it.

Yes, he had betrayed me in so many ways, but despite everything, I loved him too much to be indifferent to his suffering.

My response had been instinctive, uncalculated.

One chance. I had texted back.

Was I ready to forgive him? I wasn’t sure. But I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet. His actions, his newfound sincerity, had awakened something in me. He was giving me hope again. For the first time in a long time, I dared to believe that maybe—just maybe—we still had a future together.

I took the flight on Thursday afternoon, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tomorrow night was the grand opening of the Espoir Foundation, a project too important for me to miss. Besides, it was time. Time to return. Time to face everything I had left behind.

Marco was waiting for me as I stepped off the plane, his familiar face offering a much-needed sense of comfort. His sharp eyes scanned me from head to toe, assessing my physical and emotional state.

“You look radiant,” he said with a relieved smile before taking my bags and leading me to the car.

He dropped me off at the hotel—an elegant place just a few steps from the future foundation’s headquarters—and assured me he would pick me up the next evening for the inauguration.

Tonight, I planned to rest, to soak in the quiet before the storm of the event.

But I had underestimated Leila. She knew my arrival date and my hotel address.

I barely had time to put my things down before my door flew open.

“I missed you so much!” Leila cried, throwing her arms around me.

She stayed late into the night. We ordered room service, eating side by side on the bed like two teenagers at a sleepover.

The evening was peaceful. She caught me up on Community Pilot and the disaster at the Australian branch.

Audrey had royally screwed up. A petty, jealous part of me couldn’t help but relish my rival’s failure, but at the same time, I felt for Tristan. He had a hell of a mess to clean up.

The next morning, I slept until ten, savoring the rest I desperately needed. A knock on the door woke me. A delivery.

Clara had sent over an outfit for the evening. I handed the delivery guy a tip and thanked him before closing the door. Laying the garment bag on the bed, I unzipped it carefully. Inside were sleek black leather pants and a delicate lace blouse.

Perfect. Elegant but understated. Professional, with just the right touch of feminine allure.

I had just finished breakfast and taken a shower when my phone buzzed.

TRISTAN : The venue is ready. Everyone did an incredible job. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I love you.

I stared at the screen, my heart hammering in my chest.

Tonight, I would finally see him again.

***

The moment I stepped into the headquarters of the Hope Foundation, the first person I saw in the grand entrance hall was Audrey.

She stood at the center of a group made up of security staff and receptionists, giving out orders with an air of authority.

She was dressed in an elegant off-the-shoulder evening gown, her polished appearance perfectly in tune with the event.

But when her gaze met mine, her smile froze, and a flicker of pure hatred flashed in her eyes.

She straightened ever so slightly and strode toward me, like a predator ready to pounce.

“Well, what a surprise,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm—a sharp contrast to her sophisticated appearance. “Deciding to show up now that all the hard work is done? Great timing.”

I stared at her for a moment, almost fascinated by the transformation. The mask of professional perfection had cracked, revealing the truth beneath.

“So this is what you look like without your mask,” I said calmly. “I don’t envy you.”

Her eyes narrowed, her voice turning as cold as ice. “What are you doing here, Eva? Why today? No one needs you here.”

I didn’t flinch. I refused to let her hostility get to me.

“Save your venom,” I shot back. “I don’t need your permission to be here. And just because Tristan’s been shielding you doesn’t mean you get to do whatever you want. Don’t forget where you stand.”

Her expression hardened even more, and she took a threatening step toward me.

“Leave,” she hissed. “I won’t let you take credit for my work.”

Suddenly, a deep, familiar voice cut through the tension, laced with barely contained fury.

“Your work?” Tristan’s tone was glacial. “Are you referring to the project Eva spent months building from the ground up, pouring her heart into, or the last-minute tweaks you threw in, hoping to steal the spotlight?”

Audrey paled slightly, but she tried to hold her ground.

“Tristan, you’re mistaken…” she started, her voice faltering.

“No, I’m not,” he interrupted sharply. “You played your game well, I’ll give you that. But it’s over. We’ll deal with this later. Leave.”

Realizing she was cornered and utterly alone, Audrey took a step back before turning on her heel, the sharp click of her heels against the marble floor echoing in her rushed retreat.

Once we were alone, Tristan turned his attention to me. His gaze swept over my face, as if memorizing every detail, as if afraid I might disappear again. The silence between us was thick with unspoken emotions—a tangled mix of longing, regret, and shared memories.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Damn, I had missed him so much.