Page 18 of Billionaire’s Ruin

“Apparently.”

He smirked. “At least you’re consistent.”

If I ever found that dog, I thought, I’d adopt it just out of spite. Give it a good life. Feed it well. Maybe it was just the universe’s twisted way of saying wake up.

Was it coincidence?

Or something more?

If I were religious, maybe I’d take it as a sign. A divine joke. A cosmic wink from above.

“Hey, you okay?” Dannie asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers lingered for just a second too long, grazing my temple.

Our eyes met. For a moment, the noise of the street faded—the scooters, the chatter, the sizzle of hawker woks in the distance.

I nodded, even though my heart wasn’t as steady as my head claimed.

The truth was, I wasn’t okay. Because I’d just admitted something I’d been denying for a long time—the quiet, unspoken connection between us. It had always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for one wrong step to spill over.

Dannie saw through me in ways I wasn’t ready for. He always knew what to say—the exact words that slipped into the cracks of my heart and filled them, gently but completely.

With him, I didn’t have to pretend. I could be myself—the messy, tired, sometimes ridiculous version of me. No makeup, no filters, no forced smiles. I could even let my armpit hair grow if I wanted to.

If only things with Kai had been that effortless.

If only I didn’t have to second-guess his silences, or wonder if he truly knew me beneath the versions I presented.

I shook my head sharply. Don’t go there. Kai was the past. A shadow I’d already tried to leave behind. Like the bloodstained blouse I threw away at the airport—gone, but somehow still haunting me through that ridiculous “I heart Shanghai” souvenir T-shirt I bought to replace it.

Time heals, I told myself for the hundredth time. Time heals everything.

I looked back at Dannie, determined to change the subject, and forced a bright smile. “So,” I said, “where are you taking me next?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “You trust me enough to find out?”

“I’m trusting you not to lead me into another pile of dog crap,” I shot back.

He laughed again, that warm, unguarded sound that made my chest tighten for reasons I didn’t want to name.

As we kept walking, the late afternoon light began to fade, coating the cracked walls and neon signs in gold. The air smelled like spice and sea and something faintly sweet—like the start of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for, but couldn’t stop walking toward.

“I’m sorry to be a buzzkill,” Dannie muttered, chewing on the tip of his sunglasses while one hand clutched his stomach.

“Something wrong?”

His posture changed in seconds—from tall and confident to shrinking, his shoulders curling inward as if trying to contain the pain.

“You ate something bad?” I asked, frowning.

“Can’t be,” he said through a tight breath. “You ate the same thing, and you don’t look sick.”

I noticed the sheen of sweat gathering on his temples, how his jaw flexed as if holding back a groan. The lighthearted man who had teased me about my salad-making skills was suddenly gone, replaced by someone pale and strained.

“I wanted to show you a temple,” he said, voice thinner now. “It’s just a little further ahead.” The last words cracked, breaking into a small, mouse-like groan.

That was it—the point where concern overrode everything else.

“I don’t think so,” I said firmly. “Let’s go back.”