Ceo Of My Heart – Episode 65,66&67
CEO OF MY HEART
Ceo Of My Heart – Episode 65,66&67
( Love and Lust….)
GENRE : Billionaire/Musical Romance.
®2026 All rights reserved.
No part of this book should be reposted, Copied or distributed without the author’s permission.
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He looked like the Devil.
Leonard made to throw another bottle but he withdrew when he saw three bastards coming out of the wrecked estate. Lol.
His lips twister In a dangerous smirk .
As they got closer , their face came to view .
Eleanor crawled on the floor like a snake , her wheelchair got burnt in the fire .She irks of sweat and smoke.
Beside her was Aimee , she was panting ridiculously , some parts of her clothes are burnt, especially the fabric covering her ass . Her artificial ass is visible.
Richard looks calm , he doesn’t look like someone who just came out of a burning house . He’s madly disappointed at the women he called wife and daughter , today cos of them his reputation has been ruined
Giselle stepped out of the SUV alongside Leonard .
” Why? What have I ever done to you to deserve this ? Or are you just naturally wicked.” Giselle snarled , hurt .
” Been pretty is a crime . Why must you be so pretty? Look ,you even took my Leo away from me.” Aimee barked .
” Enough!” Leonard growled ” Enough!” he repeated again ” If you dare raise your voice to my Giselle I’ll make sure to send you to the depths of the earth.”
” Leo I love you.” Aimee muttered down her breath.
“Richard,” Leonard called out. “Your wife ordered a murder last night. Your daughter helped. Did you know?”
Richard’s jaw tightened. Just once. The only crack in his marble composure. “I know now.”
“And?”
“And I will let the law handle what I cannot.” Richard’s voice was dust and gravel. “I have already called them.”
Eleanor’s crawling stopped. She twisted to stare at her husband. “Richard—”
“Don’t.” One word. Final as a coffin lid. “Twenty-six years of lies, Eleanor. I found the letters. Evelyn’s letters. The ones you hid. The ones where she told me the truth about that day—the day you knocked her unconscious and took her place.” He reached into his pocket. Threw something. It landed near Eleanor’s hand.
A photograph. Faded. Creased.
“We were supposed to meet at that café,” Richard continued. “She told you about me. You were jealous . So you stole her life. Her love. ”
“Don’t,” she whispered. Not to Richard. To herself. “Don’t hope. Don’t—”
Giselle just held unto Leonard tighter like her life depended on it , the betrayal was just fuckin too much she can’t even feel her legs anymore.
Liam’s Mercedes screeched through the burning gates, headlights cutting through smoke like accusatory fingers. He stepped out first, and the night marked him—his eyes swollen to slits, his expensive shirt wrinkled and wet with tears he hadn’t bothered to hide.
He had been crying for hours. Since the phone call. Since the news.
Tate. Fire. No survivors.
But he wasn’t alone.
Jemimah was with him.
“Liam,” Leonard started, but the man held up a hand. Shaking. Broken.
“Not yet.” Liam’s voice was shredded. “Please. I need—you need to hear this first.”
He guided Jemimah forward. She walked like someone in a dream, or a nightmare, her eyes finding Eleanor on the ground and widening with a complex arithmetic of hate and want and why .
“I read the letter,” Liam said softly. “Last night. After Tate—” His throat closed. He had to force the words through. “After. She came to me. She’d had it for years. From her adoptive father. ”
Jemimah opened the envelope with trembling fingers.
“My sweet Jemimah,” she read aloud, voice barely audible. “If you’re reading this, I am gone, and I am sorry. I took you from your true mother when you were born. Not because I didn’t love you. Because I loved you too much. saved your life the day you were born because your aunt… Evelyn White… would have killed you. She could not bear to see you alive. I took you , You have a twin brother, Jeremy.”
“Twins,” Eleanor breathed. She was crying now, ugly tears cutting through soot. “I had twins .”
“Had,” Jemimah repeated. The word was stone. “You had nothing. You are nothing. Am ashamed to have a mother like you .”
Another car. Another arrival.
Evelyn stepped out, and she was not alone.
Jeremy.
“Mom told me last night,” he said. No preamble. No fear. “Told me everything. About the switch. About Aimee. About Giselle—” he looked at her, and his expression softened, just slightly, “—my sister. The one who got to live without knowing any of this.”
Giselle felt the world tilt. Leonard’s hands held her tighter .Aimee scoffed.
“I want to repent,” she said. To Eleanor. To Richard. To the children she’d stolen and the ones she’d broken. “I know it doesn’t matter. I know words are cheap. But I kept them safe, Jemimah and Jeremy—they grew up poor, . Can you say the same? Can you look at Aimee and say”Evelyn said with real tears .
Enough,” Richard commanded.
And then, finally, the police arrived.
They came with lights and cameras and the efficient violence of the state. Six cars. Twelve officers. The kind of show of force reserved for terrorists and cartel lords.
The Mercers had become both.
Aimee tried to run.
She made it three steps on her blistered feet before her artificial ass—the silicone betraying her at last—shifted wrong, unbalanced, sent her sprawling into the ash. She landed screaming, not from pain but from indignity . From the horror of being seen. Being known .
“Leonard!” she shrieked, even as hands pulled her up, cuffed her, read her rights. “Leonard, I love you! I did it all for you! For us !”
“There is no us,” he said. “There never was. There was only you, poisoning everything you touched, and me—” he pulled Giselle closer, “—waiting for you to finally die.”
Eleanor went quieter. They had to lift her—no wheelchair now, no dignity, just dead legs and living shame. She looked at Richard once, just once, and whatever she saw in his face made her close her eyes and not open them again until she was in the car.
Evelyn looked at Giselle , but Giselle looked away immediately .
Evelyn expected that , she went towards the cops and surrendered, she confessed all her crimes.
The cars left. The fire died. Leonard dropped the Molotov.
“For Tate,” he said.
“For Tate,” Giselle agreed.
THREE DAYS LATER — LEONARD’S MANSION
The mansion buzzed with a rare kind of energy. Three days after the fire, the arrests, the revelations—life felt fragile, but alive.
Lionel was adjusting his tie in the mirror, fussing over every crease, every fold. Giselle’s birthday party was tonight, and he wanted everything perfect.
Eva entered quietly, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “I have a surprise for you,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
Before Lionel could ask what it was, the front door opened.
Jeremy stepped in. Looking cute and handsome ,he smiled.
” Enjoy.” Eva smiled then she ran out .
” Hey!” Lionel smirked walking close to him ” Am so sorry , I made you cry . I promise I’ll never ignore you ever again.” Lionel held his ears apologetically.
Jeremy hugged him instantly ” I really like you , Lionel .” he whispered .
” I like you too Jeremy.” Lionel confessed.
Lionel’s hands dropped from his ears. Found Jeremy’s waist instead. Light. Questioning. “I like you too, Jeremy.”
The green light. The permission Jeremy had waited for.
He surged up, fingers tangling in Lionel’s hair, and kissed him. Hard at first—desperate, hungry, all the nights of wanting compressed into this collision. Then softening. Melting. Lionel’s mouth opened under his, warm and willing, and Jeremy made a sound he’d never made before.
Lionel groaned. His hands slid to Jeremy’s jaw, cradling, angling him deeper. Slowing them down. Turning frantic into deliberate. Every brush of lips intentional. Every breath shared.
Jeremy moans echoed.
ABANDONED WAREHOUSE— NIGHT
The warehouse door groaned open. Giselle stepped inside, still glowing from the party, from Rumi’s ridiculous gift—lingerie, really?—from champagne and laughter.
Leonard’s hand rested at the small of her back. Guiding. Possessive.
“Close your eyes,” he murmured.
She obeyed, trusting. He never broke promises.
The air shifted. Colder. Denser. Something metallic underneath perfume and city night.
She heard it then—not voices, not exactly. A frequency of suffering. Distant. Compressed.
Leonard’s jaw tightened, almost imperceptible. The white bud in his ear caught the dim light. He was listening to something she couldn’t hear. Something that made his thumb stroke slow circles against her spine, satisfied.
“Keep them closed, Shorty.”
A match struck. The sudden heat brushed her cheek. Then the smell—chemical, acrid, final.
She never saw the chair. Never saw what slumped in it, what had been people once. Never saw the cemented heads or the hanging corpses Leonard had arranged like art.
“Happy birthday,” he whispered against her hair, watching flames consume the evidence.
The screams in his ear were beautiful.
Giselle’s eyes fluttered open to smoke and shadow, the warehouse’s single bulb flickering overhead like a dying star.
“Leo?” Her voice came out smaller than she wanted.
He was already guiding her back toward the door, his body blocking whatever lay beyond the flames. The fire crackled hungry and low, contained to one corner, but she caught the shape of it—something solid in the chair, something that didn’t move as heat consumed it.
“Don’t look.” His hand cupped her jaw, turning her face to his chest. “Your gift is already unwrapped.”
She breathed him in—expensive cologne, smoke, something copper underneath. “What was it?”
“Everyone who ever hurt you.” He said it simply. A fact. Weather. “Your father. The boys who touched what wasn’t theirs. The ones who made you cry.”
Giselle stiffened. Memory flashed—Williams’ hands, the weight of strangers in dark corners, names she’d tried to bury. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” He tilted her chin up, eyes reflecting the fire’s dance. No remorse. Only worship. “They’re screaming for you right now. I thought you’d want to hear.”
He tapped the earpod. The sound leaked—thin, distant, human.
Her stomach turned. Not horror, not quite. Something hotter, shameful, alive.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
Leonard smiled, sharp and knowing. “I’m yours.”
Behind them, the chair collapsed into embers.
Giselle reached up. Slowly. Deliberately. Removed the earpod from his ear and placed it in her own.
The screams filled her skull.
She didn’t pull away.
Moments later they arrived back at Leonard’s Private Villa.
As Giselle was walking towards the stairs , she could feel Leonard’s predatory eyes on her .
She barely made it to three steps his hand caught her, mouth on her neck , teeth sharp , sucking marks that would blood purple in the morning.His hands tore the dress–actually tore it , her dress fell from her shoulders to her feet.
” Walk” he repeated voice guttural”Naked. Let me see what I had been waiting for.”
TO BE CONTINUED
