Page 57 of The Billionaire's Vow

He looked old.Tired.Fragile.

Then he took another long swallow of beer.

The sympathy hardened into something sharper.

“Nope.I’m done, Dad.I won’t do it again,” Giselle said firmly, her voice steadier than she felt.“If you need help covering the cost of a recovery center for alcoholics, I’d be happy to contribute to that.But not—”

Her father’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto hers, his face turning an ugly shade of red.

“What the hell are you saying, girl?”he bellowed, his voice slurred but filled with anger.“I ain’t a drunk!I sure as hell don’t need no damn recovery center!”

He jabbed a finger at her, still clutching his beer can, the liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to spilling.

“And don’t you go spreading lies either, missy!We only got one addict in this house, and that’s it!”

Giselle flinched.

Not from the accusation.

From the volume.

From the sudden surge of anger that filled the room.

Her pulse hammered in her ears, but she forced herself to remain still.Forced herself not to retreat.Not to apologize.Not this time.

She clenched her jaw, inhaling deeply before turning to face her mother.

Diane stood a few feet away, her expression almost smug, as if pleased that her daughter’s anger had shifted to someone other than her.

A small, painful ache formed in Giselle’s chest.

Did she even love her husband anymore?

Had she ever?

“Mom, I think you might have a problem as well,” she said quietly, watching for any reaction.

Diane snorted, shaking her head dismissively.“Honey, I don’t drink, and the strongest drug I take is ibuprofen when I get a headache.”She shoved her phone into her pocket and started collecting the shopping bags.“So don’t you go starting in on me.”

She wiggled her fingers as if dismissing Giselle like an irritating fly.“If you’re not here to help, then why don’t you just head on home, hmm?”Her tone was light, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

Giselle’s eyes dropped to the fresh shopping bags—more bags, more things her mother didn’t need.Where did it all go?This house should be a hoarder’s nightmare with the sheer amount of useless junk her mother accumulated.So, where did she put all of her new purchases?

She frowned at her mother again.“If you’re not addicted to shopping, then go a whole week without spending any money,” Giselle challenged, folding her arms across her chest.

Diane froze mid-step, her grip tightening around the shopping bags as if they were a lifeline.When she turned back, her face was pale, her lips slightly parted.

“I’mnotan addict,” she whispered, her voice shaky, her denial less confident than before.

Giselle took a slow step forward, lowering her voice but keeping it firm.“Prove it,” she said, letting the silence stretch between them.“Better yet, if you don’t need this stuff, return it.If you return everything, you won’t have to miss another payment on the credit card.”

Diane didn’t answer.

Giselle sighed, shaking her head as she turned toward the front door.“If you can’t go a whole week, then you need to get help, Mom.”

She pushed through the door before her mother could burst into tears—Diane’s last resort, her nuclear option.Giselle had never been able to ignore them.But tonight, she refused to fall for them.

She hurried out of the house, nearly running down the street toward the bus stop.She needed to get as far away from her parents as possible.Not because she feared for her physical safety, but because she knew herself—if she stayed even a minute longer, she might cave and offer her mother money.Money she didn’t have.