Ceo Of My Heart – Episode 63&64
CEO OF MY HEART
Ceo Of My Heart – Episode 63&64
( 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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Evelyn fell on her knees , hot , regretful , distateful and bitter tears streaming down her eyes to the floor.
Eleanor made things worse , she laughed hysterically like a ghost that has found its prey .
” Tsk tsk tsk tsk. Poor Evelyn mistreated her own daughter unknowingly.” Eleanor laughed crazily ” Award for worst mother ever goes to Evelyn White.”
” How—” Evelyn voice cracked.
” Twenty-Six years ago , you switched the babies , you switched the babies , you placed Giselle in Aimee’s place and took Aimee my blood away from me .” Eleanor smirked darkly and coldly ” But I wasn’t so stupid , I instantly recognized that Giselle wasn’t my baby but yours so switched them again.”
” You’re wicked!” Evelyn yelled .
Eleanor eyes darkened.
” Shut up! you’re the wicked one , just cos you envied me you tried to snatch away my happiness , my husband, my baby. How could you Evelyn?” Eleanor fired at her cruelly.
Evelyn rose , she wiped her tears away with her thumb ” That’s because Richard was supposed to be mine you stole him away from me . I and Richard were online boyfriend and girlfriend he decided to meet up and get married .If there’s one thing I regret now was never showing him a picture of myself.You used it against me , I was supposed to meet him that fateful day, I told you about it but you were so envious and greedy that you had to knock me unconscious and go in my place .You two got married .” She broke down again.
Eleanor stared at her blankly — No regret , Instead she wished she done more harm.
When they were young Evelyn was more liked and praised by everyone cos of her effortless beauty , this ignited jealousy within her heart.
” I married a nothingless a drunkard .” Evelyn hissed venomously ” Good luck on finding your second child or children .” she smirked walking out .
She slammed the door violently.
Eleanor’s eyes are wide , What did Evelyn mean by what she said.
Child or Children.
Could it be her kid was still alive.
LEONARD’S PRIVATE WARD — NIGHT
The room breathed in antiseptic whispers. White walls hummed with the sterile rhythm of machines—beep… beep… beep —counting down seconds Leonard wasn’t conscious to feel.
Giselle sat on the edge of a cold metal stool, her fingers woven through his. His knuckles were bruised, split in places where fists had met bone. She brought them to her lips anyway, pressing a kiss to the damage, tasting copper and saline and the faint ghost of his cologne beneath the hospital stench.
In. Out. In. Out.
“You’re cheating,” she whispered. Her voice cracked, raw from hours of crying. “You promised you’d never make me watch you sleep through something important.”
No response. The heart monitor kept its indifferent tempo.
“Open your eyes, Leo.” She traced the swell of his cheekbone, avoiding the purple bloom of bruise. “Open them and tell me you enjoyed it. Tell me that psychopath’s face was worth this.”
Nothing.
Her tears fell where her lips had been, salting his knuckles. She didn’t wipe them away. Let him wake to her grief if he wouldn’t wake to her voice.
Across the room, Noah stood motionless in the shadows.
OUTSIDE THE WARD
The corridor stretched in fluorescent silence. Eva paced, her designer heels clicking a staccato rhythm against linoleum—tick-tick-tick —like a bomb counting down. Her arms were crossed so tight they ached, holding herself together through sheer force of will.
“He’s going to be fine.” Lionel didn’t look up from his phone. The screen glowed blue against his jaw, tight with tension he wouldn’t name. “Leonard’s too stubborn to die.”
“That’s not comforting.” Eva stopped. Her reflection in the dark window showed a woman unraveling—mascara smudged, lipstick bitten away. “He smiled, Lionel. While they beat him. He smiled. “
Lionel’s thumb froze over the screen. The image burned there—security footage he’d already watched seventeen times. Leonard’s bloody grin, teeth red, eyes bright with something that wasn’t sanity.
“I know.”
INSIDE
Giselle felt it first—the twitch of his fingers against her palm. A spasm. Then pressure. Intention.
Her breath stopped.
His eyelashes fluttered.
Not the gentle drift of waking, but violent—like Lucifer falling through heaven, tearing wings against atmosphere, fighting gravity with every feather. Dark lashes striking against bruised skin, again and again, a battle in miniature.
Then—open.
His eyes found hers immediately. No confusion. No wandering. As if he’d been watching her from somewhere deeper than sleep, waiting for the right moment to surface.
“Leo—” His name broke in her throat.
The corner of his mouth lifted. Split lip reopened. Blood beaded, black in the dim light, and he smiled through it—that same terrible, beautiful smile.
“Miss me?” His voice was gravel and rust, barely audible above the machines.
Giselle laughed. Sobbed. Pressed her forehead to his and let the dam break.
“Never again,” she whispered. “You don’t get to do this to me ever again.”
His hand found her hair, fingers weak but certain, tangling in the strands like anchor ropes.”Couldn’t… stay away.” His thumb brushed her tear-tracked cheek. “Your crying… too loud… even for hell.”
Behind them, Noah exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.
Got it. Here’s the revised Aimee scene with Eleanor ordering the hit at Liam’s mansion:
ELEANOR’S WARD *
Eleanor lay in bed, legs dead under the sheets. The room smelled of flowers and medicine.
The door opened. Aimee walked in, face pale, hands shaking.
“Mother.” Her voice cracked. “Tate came to see me. She used truth serum. I told her everything. She has evidence.”
Eleanor turned her head slowly. Her eyes went hard. “Where is she now?”
“Liam’s mansion. “
Eleanor picked up her phone. Dialed a number. Waited.
“Liam’s Mansion.” she said coldly. “Tate Wilson. Kill her tonight. Make it look like robbery.Burn the phone. Burn the laptop. Burn everything.” Eleanor’s voice cut like glass. “If she breathes, you die next.”
She hung up. Looked at Aimee.
“Done. She dies before morning.”
Aimee smiled and Kissed Eleanor’s cheeks ” You’re the best “.
Aimee left without looking back
She didn’t even ask about Eleanor’s health or condition.
Eleanor’s face SADDENED.
LIAM’S MANSION — NIGHT
Tate sat on the leather sofa, whiskey in hand. The fire crackled across the room. Warm. Safe. Done.
She checked her phone one last time. The video sent. Leonard received it. Aimee’s confession—every lie, every sin, every evil thing—now in safe hands.
Tate smiled. Leaned back. Took a long sip of whiskey.
The mansion was empty. Quiet. Liam and that girl were at some hotel across town. Tate had sent them away. Needed space to think. To plan.
She stood. Walked to the window. City lights below. Beautiful. Distant.
Her finger traced the glass. Cold. Solid.
Then it shattered.
Three men burst through. Black masks. Black clothes. Guns raised. No words. No warning. No mercy.
Tate turned. Her mouth opened. “Who—”
The first shot hit her chest. Sharp. Burning. She stumbled back. Whiskey glass fell. Shattered.
The second shot hit her stomach. She doubled over. Hands clutching. Blood pouring through fingers.
The third shot hit her shoulder. Spun her around. She crashed into the coffee table. Wood broke.
They kept coming. Kept shooting.
Fourth shot. Her leg.
Fifth shot. Her arm.
She lay on the floor. Gasping. Choking on blood. Eyes wide. Seeing nothing.
The tallest man walked over. Stood above her. Gun pointed down.
“Evidence,” he said. Cold. Flat.
Tate smirked at the face of death ,she weakly lifted her middle finger at them ” F+k you!” she cussed
The man’s eyes narrowed. He pulled the trigger.
Sixth shot. Her head snapped back. Still.
They didn’t stop.
Seventh shot. Eighth. Ninth. Body jerking. Twitching. Blood spraying the white walls, the leather sofa, the broken glass.
Then silence.
One man walked to her phone. Crushed it under his boot. Pieces scattered.
Another found her laptop. Smashed it. Burned the hard drive with a small torch from his pocket.
The third searched her pockets. Found a USB. Destroyed it.
They checked the house. Room by room. No backups. No witnesses.
The tall man looked down at Tate one last time. Face unrecognizable. Blood pool spreading wide.
“Burn it,” he said.
They poured gasoline. Lit a match.
Flames rose as they climbed back out the window. Vanished into the night.
Tate lay in the fire.
She smirked one last time.
NEXT DAY — LEONARD’S MANSION
The black SUV rolled through the gates. Leonard stepped out first, still bruised, still limping, but walking. Giselle held his arm. Eva and Lionel followed behind.
The morning sun hit the white marble. Home. Safe. Finally.
They entered the living room. The big screen was on. Muted. News playing.
Leonard sat slowly, wincing. Giselle settled beside him, hand in his. Eva poured water. Lionel checked his phone.
Then the headline flashed.
FIRE AT LIAM’S MANSION. ONE DEAD.
Leonard’s head turned. He stared at the screen. Tate’s photo appeared. Young. Smiling. Gone.
The room went quiet. Too quiet.
Leonard reached for his phone. Hands shaking. He opened the message from last night. The video. Tate’s final gift.
He pressed play.
Aimee’s voice filled the room. Confessing. Lying. Scheming. Then Tate’s voice, soft, tired. “
The video cut. Static.
Leonard’s eyes darkened. Black pools. Empty. Something breaking inside.
Then tears came. Not slow. Not gentle. Hard. Racking. Falling down his bruised face, mixing with old blood and new grief.
Giselle touched his arm. “Leo?”
He didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Eva stepped closer. “What is it? What’s on the video?”
Leonard wiped his face. Blood on his sleeve. “She sent proof. Everything. Then they killed her. For me. For us.”
Lionel’s phone slipped from his hand. Cracked against the floor.
Giselle’s face went white. “Tate? Tate is—”
“Dead.” Leonard stood up. Too fast. Staggered. Caught himself on the sofa arm. “Burned. Because she helped us.”
“Leo, sit down,” Giselle pleaded. “You’re not healed—”
He walked past her. Limping. Determined. Went to his study. Opened his laptop. Uploaded the video. Every platform. Every news site. Every contact.
The world would see Aimee’s confession. Tate’s death would mean something.
He didn’t stop. Hit send. The video flew out. Irreversible.
Then he walked out the front door. Barefoot. Bleeding through his bandages. Didn’t care.
Giselle ran after him. “Where are you going?”
“To finish it.” He didn’t look back. “They burned her. I burn them.”
Eva and Lionel exchanged looks. Shock. Fear. Understanding.
Giselle followed him anyways.
MERCER’S ESTATE — AIMEE’S ROOM
The air felt wrong. Thick. Electric. Like the world had ended and they missed the call to heaven.
Aimee sat frozen on her bed. Eleanor stopped her wheelchair at the door. Both stared at the TV. Silent. Shocked.
The rapture had come. But they remained. Left behind. Damned.
Aimee’s voice played on the screen. Confessing. Crying. Exposed. The truth serum raw and real.
The video played.
Tate’s Voice •••• “Aimee,why did you befriend Giselle even though you never liked her ?” Tate questioned.
Aimee cracked.
” I never liked Giselle , I irked her presence but my mom made me befriend all because of the rivalry between she and her sister.” Aimee confessed.
Eleanor’s hands gripped the wheelchair arms. Knuckles white.
Tate’s Voice: “List all the sins you committed against Giselle. I mean everything.”
“Everything,” Aimee whispered in the room. Real. Happening. “No.”
On screen, Aimee cried. Used her palms to cover her mouth. Then dropped them. Words pouring out like poison.
“I did everything at my mother’s behest. She made me steal all of Giselle’s boyfriends. At her behest I hired goons to assault Giselle.”
Tate’s Voice: “Go on.”
Aimee on screen shuddered. Rocked back and forth. Then the worst came.
“Final year. Giselle auditioned for Star Maker. The director tried to advance on her. She fought. Pushed him. He fell. Hit his head.” Aimee sobbed. “He didn’t die. I killed him. I walked in. Saw him dazed. Picked up the trophy. Smashed his skull.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“I filmed Giselle pushing him. Edited it. Made it look like she did it.” Aimee laughed, hysterical. “She lived with guilt. Four years. I watched her suffer. I enjoyed it.”
Eleanor wheeled to the window. Pulled the curtain. Light flooded in. Harsh. Judging.
Thousands filled the streets. Signs raised. Faces twisted with hate.
MURDERER
ARREST AIMEE
ELEANOR THE CRIPPLED DEVIL
Richard is standing outside the door to the room , disappointed and ruined .
OUTSIDE
The crowd roared. Police held the line. Signs waved. Faces twisted with hate.
Leonard stood on the roof of his black SUV. Giselle below, watching. Silent.
He held a megaphone. Broken ribs screaming. Blood seeping through bandages. He didn’t care.
His voice boomed. Deep. Wrong. Beautiful.
“Aimee! Eleanor! I have a gift!”
The crowd went quiet. Thousands staring. Waiting.
” You burned my friend now I burn your world.”
Leonard reached into the SUV. Pulled out canisters. Gasoline. Molotov bottles. Lighters.
He lit the first bottle. Flame caught. Danced.
Threw it.
The mansion gate exploded. Fire swallowed the iron. Black smoke rose to the sky.
The crowd gasped.
Leonard lit another. Threw it. Second floor window shattered. Curtains burned.
Police rushed forward. Leonard threw another bottle. It exploded at their feet. They backed off.
Giselle shouted. “LEO!”
He looked at her. Smiled. Mad. Free.
“For Tate,” he said. Then turned back.
He laughed. Grabbed more. Lit them. Threw them.
” You made my Shorty suffer all those years . Am gonna send you to hell permanently.” he growled.
Bottle after bottle. The garden burned. The walls burned. The Mercer name turned to ash.
Eleanor watched from the window. Trapped. Paralyzed. Her world on fire.
Aimee Smelled smoke. Saw flames climbing the walls. Screamed.
Leonard didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
He climbed higher on the SUV. Arms spread. Bottles in both hands. Fire reflecting in his eyes.
The sun set behind him. Red. Bloody. Perfect.
He lit two bottles at once. Held them up like torches.
“Come out!” he roared. “Come out and face me!”
He threw them. The roof caught fire.
Smoke surrounded him. Black and thick. But he stood still. Tall. Unmoving.
Giselle smirked. Sweet revenge.
The flames from the mansion lit him from behind. Glowed through the smoke. Turned him into a shadow. A silhouette. Something not human.
His bruised face smiled. Split lip bleeding. Eyes black and empty.
He looked like the Devil.
TO BE CONTINUED
