Owned By The Psychotic Billionaire (Mafia BL)

LOUISE’S POV

The moment passed, of course... Moments like that always do.

We returned to our familiar roles soon enough. He became the quiet and timid Adrien who knew exactly when to curl into his shell, and I became the girl who knew how to smile while making someone else’s life miserable.

It was easier that way. It still is.

I have never been foolish enough to believe that one quiet conversation could erase everything that came after it. Whatever existed between us in that glasshouse was small, brief, and long buried beneath years of resentment.

But I remember what he said— A house by the water. A peaceful life. Nothing much happening.

Such an ordinary dream for a man who had been born into a family that seemed determined to turn every breath into a battle.

I wonder if he still wants it.

The thought comes uninvited, and I immediately resent it.

Adrien has never been short of things to resent about me. He has every reason to hate my name, my face, and everything I have done under the influence of my mother or for my own benefit.

Alice made his childhood miserable long before I was old enough to understand what she was doing. I merely grew up to become another person who gave him reasons to despise the life he had been born into.

She used her position as his father’s wife to make his home a place he could barely stand. I used the opportunities she handed me to make his life harder in ways that were sometimes too personal to dismiss as family politics.

I was not innocent.

I knew how to hurt him, and I knew when I had succeeded. There were times when his anger pleased me because it meant I had managed to reach the boy who otherwise seemed determined to feel nothing.

There were other times when I could have left a wound alone and chose to press on it instead.

I did not need Alice to force every cruel decision out of me. Some of them were mine.

And when the scandal broke, I was the one who handed the press the blade.

I had my reasons. I wanted to strike at my mother, to make her feel the consequences of the life she had built by stepping on other people. I wanted to take something away from her that money and influence could not immediately restore.

But Adrien’s name was caught in the same mess.

His reputation suffered. His private life became public entertainment. The scandal dragged him back into the same vicious world he had spent years trying to distance himself from, and now he was caught in the consequences of a situation I had helped create.

I can list the reasons I did it. I can explain the anger behind my choices. I can tell myself that Alice deserved to be exposed and that I never intended for things to unfold this way.

None of that changes what happened.

My actions brought him pain. That is a fact, not a confession.

I don’t feel compelled to kneel before it or pretend that understanding the damage makes me a better person. I have no intention of rewriting my life into a tragic story in which I was merely another victim with no control over her own hands.

I made my choices. So did Alice.

The difference is that she has always been better at making other people pay for hers.

My thoughts turn to Orion.

That name brings no memories I want to linger over. I dated him for years, and for a long time, the arrangement suited me perfectly.

Orion had the Vassilis name, the money, the influence, and the sort of power that made people think twice before speaking carelessly around him.

Being with him offered a kind of protection that I had learned to value long before I understood what it meant to be loved.

I wanted security. I wanted status. I wanted to stand beside a man whose position in the world could open doors that would otherwise remain closed to me.

Orion wanted a partner who could fit neatly into his life, someone presentable enough to stand beside him without raising unnecessary questions.

We gave each other what we wanted.

For years, I mistook the convenience of that arrangement for something more substantial. Perhaps it was easier to do so. A relationship like ours required very little honesty as long as neither person asked for anything the other had never promised to give.

There was no need to discuss the things that frightened us. No need to admit our weaknesses or wonder whether the other person would stay when the advantages disappeared.

We had our roles, and we played them well.

But I never looked at Orion and felt the kind of affection I felt for Matteo. I never found myself holding on to a small, ordinary conversation with him years after it had ended. I never wondered what sort of peaceful life he might have wanted before the world taught him to become the man he is now.

What we had was an arrangement.

A useful one, for a time. Nothing more.

The realization does not hurt. I cannot miss something I never truly possessed.

If anything, it makes the emptiness of the past few years easier to understand. I spent so much time trying to secure my place beside powerful people that I never considered what would remain when my usefulness ran out.

Now I have a hotel room, a guard outside the door, a scandal attached to my name, and no convincing reason to believe that any of the people I once relied on will help me walk away from this life.

Orion will not forget what happened simply because I have grown tired of the consequences. He is not the sort of man who allows public humiliation to fade into an unpleasant memory.

Adrien has no reason to stand beside me. Even if he did, I would not know what to do with such an offer.

And Alice...

I almost laugh at the thought.

Alice would rather lose a limb than admit she had ever needed me. She has spent too many years making sure I understand that I am useful only when I serve a purpose. The moment I stop being convenient, I become another problem for her to solve.

Perhaps I should have understood that sooner.

Perhaps I did understand it and simply chose to believe I could keep my place by giving her what she wanted.

The distinction no longer matters.

I glance toward the window. The curtains are drawn, leaving only a narrow line of daylight along one edge. Beyond them, the city continues with its usual indifference.

Cars move along the roads. People cross pavements. Somewhere, someone is probably complaining about a late breakfast or a meeting that should have been cancelled.

The world does not stop because a woman has reached the end of her patience. It does not stop because a man has died after eleven years in a hospital bed.

And it will not stop if Alice Dubois finally loses the one person she has always assumed would remain within reach.

My gaze returns to the nightstand.

The phone is still facedown.

I think of Alice, of the years she spent directing my steps, shaping my anger, and teaching me that the only way to survive was to make myself useful to someone more powerful.

She never had to ask me to become like her. She only had to make sure I understood what happened to people who refused to play along.

When I was young, I believed her approval was something I could earn if I tried hard enough. When I grew older, I learned that approval was another tool she used to keep me close. She could offer it when I pleased her and withdraw it when I became inconvenient.

It was a simple arrangement, and she made certain I never forgot which one of us held the advantage.

Over the years, she gave me tasks she could not safely carry out herself. She let me take the risks, stand in the way of the consequences, and answer the questions she preferred to leave unanswered.

When something went wrong, she knew how to step back.

When something went right, she knew how to make it seem as though she had been responsible for the success all along.

I became her shield when she needed protection, her weapon when she wanted to strike, and her scapegoat whenever the damage threatened to reach her.

Even now, with danger closing in around her, she expects me to remain where she left me.

She expects me to be available when she needs me again.

In her mind, this is only a pause. The scandal will eventually lose its appeal. Orion’s attention will turn toward other matters. The immediate danger will pass, and Alice will find a way to return to the life she believes belongs to her.

Then she will reach for me again.