Breaking The Billionaire Guardian

I was in the middle of trying to wrench my wrist from his grip when the strange, glowing text began scrolling across my field of vision.

The floating characters hovering in midair like a phantom chat room told a bizarre story: they said the charming boy I had grown up with was going to con me, leaving me utterly bankrupt and destitute.

They also said that this momentright nowwas the very last time the man holding my wrist would ever try to keep me. If I let him go today, he would lock his heart away forever.

"We grew up under the same roof. You practically raised me. Don't you think this whole arrangement is sick?" Only seconds ago, I had been sneering those exact words at him.

This was my third time trying to run away from our wedding, and my third time being dragged back. I thought he was finally going to give up.

But the second I processed the meaning of the glowing words floating in front of me, my hand shot out. I tightly gripped his fingers just as he was about to release me.

"Everett, let's get married," I heard myself say, the words tumbling out in a rushed, desperate breath.

His grip on me was still painfully tight, his dark eyes swirling with an exhaustion and profound loneliness he couldn't hide.

"Do you really hate the idea of marrying me that much?" His weary voice from moments ago was still echoing in my ears.

Everett Cross froze. For a long second, he just stared at me, before his thick lashes fluttered down, casting shadows over his cheekbones. He let out a hollow, bitter laugh.

"Is this your new tactic to trick me?"

He couldn't mask the crushing disappointment in his tone.

"Gemma, I won't force you anymore."

He pulled his arm from my grasp and pointed toward the heavy, open oak doors of the estate.

"You were right before. I've been too controlling. My need to keep you safe became a cage." He swallowed hard. "So, right now... I'm giving you the freedom you want."

Beneath the icy, untouchable exterior of the billionaire CEO, there was a faint, nearly imperceptible tremor in his voice.

[Even though the male lead is saying this, he's actually terrified she's going to walk out that door, right?]

[Yeah, but compared to forcing her to stay and making her hate him even more, he'd rather rip his own heart out and let her go.]

[God, I'm sobbing. He's dying a thousand deaths inside but acting completely unbothered. Does the villainess even have a soul?!]

I stared at the floating comments, my throat suddenly dry. Instinctively, I reached out and caught the hem of his tailored suit jacket, tugging it gently.

"Everett... do you really want me to leave?"

He clearly hadn't anticipated the question. He stiffened, a heavy silence falling between us before he let out a long, ragged sigh.

"Gemma, I'm just terrified you're going to be used. Tyler is manipulative, and his depth of cruelty... you're not equipped to handle him."

Perhaps fearing his words were too harsh, that they would spark another one of my rebellious explosions, he reached out and gently smoothed my hair. His tone softened, becoming excruciatingly tender.

"I just wanted to find a way to stay by your side and protect you, but I completely ignored how you felt about it. That's my fault."

With that, he turned to the head butler and ordered that, effective immediately, all security details keeping me on the estate were dismissed.

Before he walked up the grand staircase, he paused, giving me one last, lingering look.

That night, sleep completely evaded me.

My mind was a cinematic loop of Everett's final, devastating glance.

He was the son of my late father's army buddy. When Everett was twelve and his father passed away, he was brought into the Astor household.

I was seven.

I still remember the first time I saw him. He was a tall, impossibly straight-backed boy, like a pine tree after a storm. He reached his hand out to me, his eyes bright, his expression fiercely serious.

"Gemma, from now on, I'm going to protect you."

And for all these years, he absolutely did.

Every time I got into trouble, every time someone at my elite prep school tried to bully me, Everett was the one standing like a fortress between me and the world.

Everything was fine. Perfect, even. Until my father, on his deathbed, unilaterally declared that Everett and I were to be married. That changed everything.

His protection morphed into something suffocating. He managed my life with an airtight grip that left me gasping for air.

So, naturally, I fought tooth and nail to escape.

It didn't help that Tyler was constantly whispering in my ear, convincing me that Everett was just playing the long game to steal the Astor fortune.

"Gemma, has he ever actually confessed to you? Has he ever said the words 'I love you'? No. He just wants a painless way to inherit your family's empire."

"The second you say 'I do' to Everett Cross, he'll swallow you whole. There won't be anything left of you."

Truthfully, I hadn't believed Tyler at first.

I had marched straight into Everett's study, mustered every ounce of my courage, and demanded, "Do you even like me?"

He had remained silent.

To me, silence meant no.

My pride was shattered. I cried until my eyes were swollen shut. And then, fueled by Tyler's insidious encouragement, I ran away from the wedding. Twice.

When Everett dragged me back the second time, I screamed at him until my voice broke. "Why are you doing this?!"

Everett just looked at the floor. "Gemma, I don't want you to get hurt."

Hypocrite, I had thought. Dressing up his greed in the noble robes of duty and obligation.

But I refused to be trapped in a loveless marriage. From that day on, I never gave him a kind look or a soft word.

This most recent escape attempt was my third.

The wedding was exactly one month away.

I thought that if Everett finally let me go, I would feel an overwhelming sense of euphoria. But sitting alone in my vast, quiet bedroom, I just felt hollow. Like a massive piece of my foundation had just caved in.

Two soft knocks at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Thinking it was him, I bolted for the door, not even bothering to put on my slippers.

When I pulled it open, it was only the butler.

"Miss Gemma, Mr. Cross asked me to bring you some warm milk."

"He said that if you go to bed on an empty stomach, you struggle to sleep."

Beneath the warm ceramic mug was a folded slip of paper. There was only one line written on it.

Drink it while it's warm. I added the vanilla bean and cinnamon you like.

The handwriting was a little messy, the strokes hesitant, as if he had agonized over the words before writing them.

I held the warm mug in both hands and looked down the long, shadowed hallway.

Usually, he was the one who brought the milk. Even though I routinely slammed the door in his face, he would still stand on the other side, his voice soft and unwavering.

But tonight, his bedroom door at the end of the hall remained firmly shut.

I suddenly remembered the floating text: this was the very last time he would ever try to keep me.

Was he really going to just wash his hands of me forever?

[The male lead finally lets go, and suddenly the villainess doesn't want to run? Human nature is truly twisted.]

[Honestly, if she just waited until after the wedding and experienced his... heavenly endowments... she'd never want to leave that bed, let alone the house.]

[Right?! He's been holding back for a decade. If they actually do the deed, her eyes are going to roll into the back of her head.]

[She's so clueless. If he didn't obsessively love her, why would he be hand-washing the silk nightgowns she throws out...?]

[Wait, hand-washing? Like... the way I'm thinking?]

I read the comments, my face suddenly flushing with a violent, inexplicable heat.

It was true that in all these years, there had never been another woman by Everett's side. Just me.

But for years, I hadn't just been cold to him; I had been downright cruel. I had made it my mission to despise him.

If I changed course now... would he even accept it?

The next morning, I cornered his assistant for his schedule.

He had a business dinner that evening.

I knew his stomach was sensitive. Whenever he drank at these corporate functions, he would spend half the night in agonizing pain.

In the past, I used to gleefully hope he felt sick so he'd be too distracted to micromanage my life. Thinking about it now made me feel sick to my own stomach.

Grabbing my car keys from the foyer, I drove straight to the restaurant.

Since I had literally never once gone to pick him up from anything, I decided to text him a warning.

What time are you finishing up tonight?

The reply was almost instantaneous. [?]

I scrolled up. Our entire text history was a graveyard of Everett checking in on me, asking if I was safe, asking if I had eaten. I had ignored ninety percent of them.

Biting my lower lip, I typed: There's something I really need to talk to you about.

It took a long time for the three typing dots to appear and disappear before he finally replied: Gemma, I've already lifted the security detail. If you want to leave, you can go anywhere you want. I will also make the announcement tomorrow that the wedding is canceled.

He thought I was coming to demand he call off the wedding.

No. I just want to know which private dining room you're in. I'm coming to take you home.

The typing bubble hovered on the screen for what felt like an eternity.

A full two minutes later, he sent the address and room number.

Drive safe. If you're tired, call the driver. Don't force yourself.

The phantom comments were having a field day:

[LMAO Everett really thought she was coming to dump him! He was probably rewriting that text fifty times trying not to sound devastated.]

[But why is the villainess suddenly acting like a decent human being? Suspicious.]

[I don't trust it. Gemma, if you don't love him, please just leave him alone!]

I started the engine.

The entire drive there, my phone buzzed every ten minutes with Everett asking for my location. For a man who wore an expression of untouchable ice in boardrooms, he was an absolute mother hen in private.

After handing my keys to the valet, I walked into the lobby to catch the elevator.

The doors chimed open on the ground floor.

Tyler was standing inside. His eyes lit up with predatory surprise. "Gemma! What are you doing here? Did you come to see me?"

"No."

Perhaps sensing the absolute frost in my voice, he stepped forward as the elevator doors closed, trapping us in the small, mirrored space.

"Did that control freak forbid you from talking to me?"

He moved closer, boxing me in between his body and the cold metal wall. To anyone looking in, it would look incredibly intimate.

My skin crawled, and I instinctively raised my hands to shove him away.

Before I could, he grabbed my wrists. "Are you punishing me? Just because I couldn't pick you up yesterday? You wouldn't even answer my calls."

He flashed his signature boyish smile. "But I knew you'd soften up eventually. Since you came all this way to find me, I forgive you."

"Don't worry, Gemma. I've got everything arranged this time. I won't let that orphaned parasite drag you back to his cage."

"Tyler," I said, my voice deadpan. "I'm an orphan too."

His expression faltered. He opened his mouth to pivot

Ding.

The elevator doors slid open.

Everett was standing right there. He took one look at Tyler trapping me against the wall, holding my wrists, and whatever fragile hope had been in his eyes died instantly.

[Oh no no no no! The tiny shred of hope our boy had just got obliterated! His internal monologue right now: 'Of course. Her texting me was a trick. The person she really wanted to see was Tyler all along.']

[Everett is literally shattering into a million pieces.]

[Gemma, open your mouth! Explain! Speak!]

Just as the elevator doors began to slide shut again, I violently shoved Tyler backward and bolted out into the hallway.

I jogged straight up to Everett, blocking his path.

The lighting in the corridor was dim. He kept his eyes cast downward, a self-deprecating smile twisting his lips.

"Did you come to find me so I would give you my blessing to be with him?"

He finally looked up at me. His gaze was a volatile mix of obsession, defeat, and profound sorrow.

"Gemma, if doing that will finally make you happy, I'll..."

"I had no idea he was even going to be here."

I cut him off, my words tumbling over each other in my panic. "I came here for you. It has nothing to do with anyone else. And what I said yesterday? I meant it. I want to marry you. It's not out of spite, and I'm not just 'softening up.' Can you please stop trying to pave an exit route for me every time you look at me? I'm not leaving."

Everett froze. He stood rooted to the carpet, looking at me as if I were speaking a language he couldn't comprehend.

A delayed wave of heat rushed to the tips of my ears.

What am I doing? Did I just aggressively propose to him in a hallway?

For a moment, the air between us was thick and awkwardly silent.

"Gemma, why are you degrading yourself to please him?"

Tyler had stepped out of the elevator, strolling over to us with an infuriatingly arrogant swagger.

The floating text was moving at warp speed now.

[This toxic waste of space is back. So annoying.]

[Honestly, the person actually trying to steal the Astor money is standing right there.]

[Poor Gemma. Blind as a bat. Manipulated for years, and in the original timeline, she gets her entire inheritance drained by this absolute loser.]

My chest tightened painfully.

Bastard. Play with my feelings all you want, but try to steal my money? Absolutely not.

Seeing my silence, Tyler reached his hand out toward me, his eyes burning with what he probably thought was undeniable charisma.

"Come here, Gemma. I'll take you away from him."

His voice was grating on my last nerve.

It was only in this exact moment, bathed in the dim hallway light, that total clarity washed over me.

I had never had romantic feelings for Tyler. Never. He was the one who was constantly orbiting me, showering me with strategic affection. The only reason I had ever even entertained the idea of running away with him was out of sheer teenage rebelliona desperate bid to break free from Everett's iron grip.

With my heart suddenly feeling lighter than it had in years, I took a deep breath and reached out, lacing my fingers through Everett's.

He flinched in surprise, his fingers stiffening against mine.

"Tyler, I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm getting married."

Tyler stared at me in disbelief.

I didn't want to look at his face for another second. Pulling Everett by the hand, I marched us straight out of the building.

It wasn't until we were sitting in the plush leather seats of his Maybach that my racing heart began to settle.

The comments were practically cackling.

[In the dark corner where Gemma can't see, Everett's mouth is literally twitching he's smiling so hard LMAO.]

[His brain right now: 'She held my hand hehe. She initiated it! Did you hear that? She wants to marry me!']

[Look at him trying to act so normal while his soul is doing backflips.]

I turned my head to look at him.

Everett was sitting ramrod straight. Like a perfectly behaved schoolboy.

Aside from the tips of his ears, which were burning a brilliant shade of crimson, his expression was completely, impeccably stoic.

When I walked out of the kitchen carrying the can of hangover drink, Everett was leaning heavily against the corner of the living room sofa, his eyes closed in a light doze.

He had yanked his tie loose, and the top buttons of his crisp dress shirt were undone, exposing the sharp, incredibly appealing lines of his collarbone.

I hadn't allowed myself to openly stare at him like this in years.

It hit me then that the comments weren't exaggerating. Everett Cross was built like a Greek god.

"Ev. Drink this before you sleep."

I sat on the edge of the sofa cushion and gently nudged his shoulder.

His brow furrowed slightly as his eyes fluttered open, his dark gaze still a little hazy from the alcohol.

I scooped up a spoonful of the warm broth and brought it to his lips. He obediently parted them and swallowed it down.

Spoonful by spoonful, the only sound in the massive, quiet house was the soft clink of the porcelain spoon against the bowl.

Just as I leaned in to offer him another bite, a few loose strands of my hair slipped over my shoulder and somehow looped themselves tightly around one of his open shirt buttons.

When I tried to pull back, a sharp pain bit into my scalp.

"It's caught. It's pulled tight," Everett murmured, his voice suddenly gravelly. He reached up, his large, warm hand covering mine to stop me from yanking it.

I had to lean forward, my face practically hovering over his lap, to give him slack. "It hurts."

"Because it's tangled. Gemma, relax." His fingers brushed against my neck as he worked at the knot. "If it's your first time dealing with a knot like this, the more you move, the more it's going to hurt."

His breath brushed against my cheek, warm and laced with the sharp scent of expensive whiskey. It made my face burn.

There was a large, decorative mirror on the wall opposite the sofa. I caught our reflectionthe way I was bent over him, the way his larger frame seemed to envelop me entirely. It looked... scandalous.

"You're moving too slow. Hurry up."

"Alright... I'll go faster."

I could feel the subtle movements of his fingertips working the button, grazing my collarbone.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Got it."

Finally, the tension at my scalp released.

I immediately tried to push myself up, but I had been kneeling in that awkward position for too long. My leg had fallen completely asleep. As soon as I put weight on it, my knee buckled, and I collapsed directly onto Everett's lap.

In my sheer panic, my hands flailed, desperately grabbing for anything to break my fall.

I heard Everett let out a sharp, muted groan.

His hands clamped down on my waist like iron vises, the heat of his palms searing through my thin silk top.

"Everett," I gasped, staring wide-eyed at where my hand had landed. "What is that...?"