Page 85 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

I checked my phone again. Still no response from Wendy. Worried, I called her.

The moment she answered, I was met with irritated groans and half-mumbled curses. Apparently, I had interrupted a much-needed sleep—and an even more important dream featuring Mr. Bollywood. Grumpy and sleep-deprived, she refused breakfast and told me to update her once our flight was confirmed before promptly hanging up.

Dannie smirked. “Your friend is quite a character.”

“I didn’t think you noticed.”

“I notice everything.” He tapped my shoulder lightly, and our eyes met. His gaze held mine—steady, unreadable, intense.

“Dannie… I can’t give you what you want.”

We sat there, locked in silence, the weight of unspoken words pressing between us. The moment stretched unbearably until I forced myself to look away, overwhelmed by the awkwardness.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t expect you to give me anything.”

“Then stop being so nice to me.” My voice wavered. “You make me feel⁠—”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. He made me feel a lot of things. His kindness was nothing but a burden, suffocating me.

“Feel what?”

“Bad. Guilty. Ashamed. Sad. I don’t know… I’m not worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Fuck.

That was the last thing I needed to hear.

I had literally just asked him to stop being nice.

My phone dinged. Grateful for the distraction, I grabbed it, my eyes scanning the screen as if my life depended on it.

My breath caught.

“Kai was taken by the police,” I mumbled.

18

June

Wendy and I arrived at Shanghai International Airport about eight hours later. All flights from Hong Kong to Shanghai had been fully booked, but thanks to Dannie’s assistant, we managed to secure seats.

The alternative was to charter a private plane, but that would have meant asking for another favor from my brother or Dannie. I could have reached out to Kai, but right now, he was with the police, and I didn’t want to burden him with something as trivial as travel arrangements.

Wendy had shown up at the restaurant just five minutes after I heard about Kai. Her usual polished appearance was gone—no makeup, no perfectly styled hair—but she was ready to leave, her bags already packed. I didn’t ask, but I assumed she must have heard the news herself from Trevon.

Dannie had dropped us off at the airport, and now we stood at the busy pickup point, waiting for Trevon.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Wendy asked, scanning the line of approaching cars.

“This is my first time here too, but I think so,” I replied.

The area bustled with travelers like us, people who had just stepped off a plane, waiting to be picked up by taxis, private drivers, or loved ones.

Wendy fired off a series of questions—so many that it felt like thousands. I answered each one with nothing more than common sense, but part of me wondered why she was asking such obvious things. I was used to answering questions; it was second nature. Years of working with patients had trained me to encourage their curiosity, always reminding them—and myself—that there was no such thing as a stupid question.

But that wasn’t entirely true. Some questions were, in fact, pointless.