My Billionaire Ex Just Donated His Kidey to Me Chapter 05
Don’t You Dare Talk About Leaving
Evangeline’s POV
“Charles! What are you doing? Put me down!”
But he doesn’t answer. His arms only tighten around me as he carries me through the living room with quick, almost frantic steps. I can feel him trembling beneath his expensive suit, and that scares me more than anything.
He kicks open the bedroom door with his foot, the sound echoing through our house like a gunshot.
The bedroom is dark except for the weak light from the street lamps outside, casting long shadows across the hardwood floor. Charles sets me down on the bed, but not gently like he usually does. There’s something desperate in the way he moves, something that makes my heart race with fear rather than anticipation.
His body looms over me, hands braced on either side of my head. In the dim light filtering through the blinds, I can finally see his face clearly.
And what I see makes my breath catch.
Tears. Charles is crying.
Not just a few drops, but actual tears streaming down his face. His eyes hold a kind of desperation I’ve never seen before, raw and terrifying.
“Don’t you dare talk about leaving me again!”
His voice is so hoarse it barely sounds like him. It’s the voice of a man who’s been holding back screams. “You can’t go anywhere, Evie. You hear me? Nowhere.
Before I can respond, he crashes his lips against mine. It’s not the tender kiss I’m used to. This is desperate, possessive, like he’s trying to brand me as his. His hands are already working at his tie, yanking it loose with jerky movements.
‘God, what’s happening to him? I’ve never seen him like this.
The silk tie drops to the floor, followed by the sound of shirt buttons scattering as he tears at his collar. His chest rises and falls rapidly, muscles taut with tension.
“Charles, stop. Not tonight.”
But he’s not listening. His shirt falls away, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the surgical scar on his lower abdomen catching the streetlight. His hands reach for my nightgown, and that’s when panic truly sets in.
I can’t do this. Not with my kidney disease, not with the baby growing inside me. The thought of anything happening to this child because of rough sex makes my stomach turn.
“I need you, Evie. I need to know you’re still mine.”
His voice breaks on the last words, and I see madness. in his eyes. This isn’t my Charles. This is a man who’s lost all control.
I try to push him away, but my hands are too weak, too small against his broad chest.
“Charles, please-”
His hand reaches for my wrist, and suddenly everything stops.
His fingers freeze against my skin, right over the small raised scars from my dialysis access site. The marks are barely visible in the dark, but his fingertips trace them like they’re reading braille.
His breathing becomes ragged. Harsh.
That’s when I break.
Not the quiet tears I’ve been shedding for months. This is something deeper, more desperate. A sound tears from my throat that I didn’t know I could make.
“No… please, not tonight… I can’t…”
My voice is shaking so hard the words barely come out. I curl up on myself, hands instinctively moving to protect my stomach, and the tears won’t stop coming. They soak the pillow beneath my head, hot and endless.
The sound seems to snap Charles back to reality.
“Shit… Evie, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
His hand hovers in the air above my face, trembling like he’s afraid to touch me. When he finally does, his fingers are gentle again, brushing away my tears with infinite care.
“Okay. Okay, baby. Not tonight.”
He reaches for his discarded shirt, pulling it back on with shaky hands. Then he lies down beside me, gathering me against his chest like I’m something fragile that might shatter.
I can hear his heart pounding against his ribs, feel the way his breath catches every few seconds like he’s fighting back sobs.
‘Why did he react like that when I mentioned leaving?
If he loves Seraphina, why does the thought of me leaving make him so desperate?‘
His arms tighten around me, and for a moment it feels like before. Like we’re still those two orphaned kids who only had each other.
‘Does he still love me? Or does he just not want to lose his safety net?‘
The room falls quiet except for Charles’s slightly
labored breathing and the distant hum of traffic outside. The streetlight continues to cast wavering shadows on the wall, and I watch them dance until exhaustion finally pulls me under.
When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.
Of course it is.
I shake my head, already knowing he’s run off to Seraphina again. Some things never change.
I sit up slowly, my body still aching from yesterday’s episode at the hospital. The pain medication sits on my nightstand like a daily reminder of everything falling apart. I dry–swallow two pills and force myself to get moving.
There’s a half–packed suitcase open on the floor by the closet. I’ve been adding things to it for days now, preparing for the inevitable moment when I finally leave,
Today feels like that day.
I add a few more items of clothing, then head downstairs to make breakfast. My movements are stiff, every step a reminder of how sick I really am.
I’m standing at the kitchen counter, spreading peanut butter on toast, when the doorbell rings.
“Coming!”
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and walk to the front door, expecting maybe a package delivery or Audrey with coffee.
Instead, I open the door to find Seraphina Blackwood standing on my doorstep.
She’s perfectly put together as always, wearing a cream–colored designer dress and matching heels. Her blonde hair falls in perfect waves over her shoulders, and her smile is sharp enough to cut glass.
Without waiting for an invitation, she pushes past me into the house.
“Well, well,” she says, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she surveys our living room like she’s appraising her future property. “So this is where Charles has been hiding.”
‘How the hell did she find this place? Did Charles give her our address?‘