Page 5 of Billionaire’s Ruin

It had been a month since I last saw Dannie, but it felt as if we’d just seen each other yesterday.

I’d considered renting an apartment through Airbnb—turning down his offer had been my first instinct. But his text came almost instantly, apologizing that he wouldn’t be able to check on me until the following month.

He knew I wanted to be left alone.

He always did—better than I knew myself, sometimes.

Everyone else demanded that I pick up their calls, or that I return to certain places.

Kai called daily. His voicemails started with pleading, then shifted to desperation, and finally to demands to see me. He kept insisting I trust him—promising he had a plan, that everything was under control.

I’d heard enough. Each voicemail said the same thing in a slightly different tone. In the end, I blocked his number.

If trust can be earned, then it can be lost.

When it hit me that I was falling in love with Kai, my head warned me I was going to get hurt. My heart told me to trust him—that he was trying, that he was proving himself to me. What I ended up with was disappointment—one after another.

I thought I understood heartache.

But I didn’t.

None of the sadness or loneliness I’d felt before compared to the damage a few words from him could cause.

I watched as Dannie’s eyes brightened with excitement when his toast and eggs arrived.

“You want more?” he asked, clearly not minding if I did.

“You go ahead,” I said, watching him enjoy the delicacy in front of him. “Actually, I changed my mind.” I snatched the last sugary slice off his plate, waiting for him to raise his voice—or at least scold me—for stealing his favorite food.

Instead, he just beamed at me like an idiot.

“We should start coming here every day.”

2

Kai

“I’m doing everything I can to be with you. Love you.”

I hit send—again. It had become a ritual. A form of self-punishment I refused to break. For three weeks now, that tiny flicker of hope was the only thing keeping me sane.

Within seconds, the red warning icon appeared. Then another popped up, asking me to try again later.

Either June had changed her number… or she’d blocked me.

I preferred the latter. Because I was a fool—and I deserved it.

For now, all I could do was keep trying. Maybe one day—when she could spare an ounce of pity and let me back into her life—I’d know she was ready.

My text would go through.

That would be my sign. Proof that she was ready to listen again.

Still, disappointment slammed into me when that red exclamation mark stared back.

Every. Single. Time.

It comforted me, in a cruel way, that her brother couldn’t reach her either. Not like me—completely cut off and cast out of her world. Lincoln had at least received a message in the family group chat, letting them know she was safe.