Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover

As evening settled in, Chloe found herself back in her room earlier than usual. Sleep was elusive, so she chose to sit on the balcony, her eyes trailing after Connor as he played host downstairs, welcoming guests and bidding them goodbye. She watched his silhouette move busily, caught the faint glow of a cigarette during the quiet lulls, and even saw him pause under the apple tree, tears marking trails down his face-moments unseen by anyone else.

Chloe's heart ached deeply. She understood that no matter what she said or did, it wouldn't ease Connor's burden. These were feelings he had to work through himself; only time could mend them.

After a while, the sound of the door opening pulled Chloe from her thoughts. She stepped inside just as Connor returned. He hadn't bothered with the lights. "Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked, his voice as gentle as ever. Chloe could sense the turmoil he was holding back, which only deepened her own heartache.

She moved closer, intent on wrapping him in a hug. But Connor stepped back, "I've been smoking. I'll just take a shower." He disappeared into the bathroom, where he lingered for a long time. Chloe knew he was in there, wrestling with his emotions. She even thought she heard the faint sound of stifled sobs.

Patiently, Chloe waited by the door. When Connor finally emerged, she embraced him from behind, her arms encircling his waist. He turned to pull her into his embrace. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice calm and steady as he lightly patted her back, as if she were the one in need of comfort.

"Nothing," Chloe replied softly. "I just wanted to hold you." Connor tightened his hold on her, and they stood together in the darkness for a long, silent moment.

"Let's get some sleep," he suggested. Chloe nodded, and they drifted off in each other's arms.

Later, Chloe awoke to find Connor gone from her side. She glanced over to see him perched alone on the balcony, a cigarette in hand, smok@curling into the night. He

wasn't a smoker, but tonighi

was

different; the weight of his sorrow was palpable.

Connor glanced down at the small object resting in his palm-a pearl earring, its hook stained with blood It was what Claire had clutched so desperately as life slipped away from her. She held it with such force, even in death, that it hadn't fallen frée. It had to mean something.

Connor knew it wasn't Claire's; she had always favored diamonds and dismissed pearls as cheap trinkets, unworthy of being called jewelry. So, whose earring was this? The question nagged at him.noveldrama

Claire's death had come out of nowhere, and what had she endured on Paradise Island? Barrett was dead too, his body left to decay on the stage. There had to be someone pulling the strings. Claire was gone, but the story wasn't over. The real villains were still in the shadows, and dark forces were likely at play.

But Connor was resolute-he would unearth the truth. Sitting there, the cool night

air cleared his thoughts. In a way, Claire's fate seemed fitting, considering the hardships of her youth.