Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1)

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Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1) Page 5

by Bianca Borell


  “To what shall we toast?”

  “Closure, perhaps finding my peace. I heard life is a good one too.”

  I half-smile, despite my cracking voice. He shelters my hands with his and rubs the flat of my palm. His eyes shine with endless love. I bite my tongue at this gentleness as if I’m something precious and breakable—a porcelain doll that will shatter if he doesn’t support her. I pull my hands away as Alex’s face drops.

  “I hope what you see will set you free, and you’ll find it in you to let me smash the walls you have built around yourself because what I’m doing now will either bring you back, or I will lose you for good.”

  An icy shiver runs down my spine in answer to his words. I feel my eyebrows furrowing at him. I need no more surprises tonight. Tonight is supposed to be me saying my goodbye, and everything until now proved to be the opposite of expected.

  BRIA

  In the beginning, I don’t pay attention to the video until the image of the man beside whom I woke up that day pops up, sending a shiver down my spine. My first instinct is to bolt through the door, but he springs up and grasps my upper arm, pleading with his eyes for me to stay. Against my better judgment, I succumb to his plea, slump on the barstool, and fidget.

  The video starts with an interrogation in a light gray room, bare of everything but a rectangular desk and two metallic chairs. I scan the man behind the gray table, his salt and pepper hair cut short. A dark uniform covers his lean body. His shoulders are held high, and his jaw is set into a firm line making the crow’s feet around his eyes pop up. On the other side is a man of pale complexion, dark circles under his eyes. His dirty blond hair is unkempt, and his clothing is rather shaggy on his fragile-looking body. His whole posture reflects rigid acceptance as his body melts into the chair. He introduces himself as Patrick Kohl. And with this morsel of information, I can place a name to the blurry face starring for so long in my nightmares. He is twenty-eight and a drug dealer. My insides burn in protest. This is the man I supposedly cheated on Damien with? The man I slept with of my own volition?

  The uniformed man drills question after question while my tormentor answers them, legs crossed, his fingers pulling at the piece of jewelry decorating his earlobe. Minutes into the video, my abuser throws his head back and shuts his eyes.

  My nails split the skin in my palms. I don’t even flinch as I blink, mesmerized at the blood droplets painting the lines of my palm. The video pauses, and I turn my head to Alex as he forces a lungful of air into his body. With utter care, he takes my hand in his and assesses the damage. The twitch in his jaw eases, and then he wipes the droplets of blood away with a tissue. His probing eyes meet my little nod, and the video springs to life again.

  They keep talking, but it’s nothing worth remembering. All I can do is exhale and inhale in an alleviating cadence. My ears pick up with the next question. “Mr. Kohl, do you regret anything at all?”

  His torso bows and he crosses his ankles, handcuffed hands tapping his knees, tongue sliding down his lower teeth.

  “There was this girl . . . this innocent, beautiful blonde girl. I’ll never forget her expression, the shock in her wide eyes. Or maybe it was terror, who knows?” He pauses, increasing the dramatic effect of his confession while my nerves tether on the brink of exploding. “Both looked paler than ghosts, but I left when my job was done, thanking her for the most amazing night of my life. Ha ha, I lied. If we had fucked, it would have been, if you know what I mean, Chief.”

  When the meaning of his words hits my foggy brain, my heart cracks. The magnitude of it doesn’t leave my normally comatose heart immune. I gasp in horror. It feels like buckets of ice dropped on me, drowning me under them. What is this? I glance at Alex, but he stares straight ahead, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. This is the only reaction I get from him as my attention returns to the screen.

  “I didn’t even touch her. I wanted to, but I’m not into unconscious girls under me. I was freaking out that the drug I put in her wine would kill her. Some sort of sick consciousness I still owned back then stopped me.’”

  If anything could still surprise me, it is the sincerity I grasp coming from his mouth with his confession. His feet thump on the cement floor, and he supports his head between his hands. After a deafening silence, he goes on. “Of all the shit I’ve done in my life, those hazel but lost eyes still haunt me. But the money was too good to pass up.”

  Strangely enough, the moment his consciousness accepts the excuse of his behavior, he switches once again to being relaxed. The tricks of our minds. You have to love them.

  “Do you know what is truly sick? Her cousin hired me. She had this crazy look in her eyes, palms rubbing together. What a crazy chick. I bet she got what she wanted.”

  “Monica?” Her name tastes bitter on my tongue. I grab his hand and stop Alex from pausing the video. “Don’t!” I clutch my hands together and grit my teeth. I have to hear it all.

  And then the man from my nightmares finishes with, “I did it for the money. I needed it.” His incredulous empty eyes focus on the camera. Did he somehow hope someday his confession would reach me? If so, I forgive him. He was a pawn in this case, like me. A toast to the schemers who viciously deny other people’s happiness but are first in line to seize it as their right.

  The video ends, and I blink, shock muting me. I wait for the heart attack. It doesn’t come. I wait for salvation. It eludes me. I wait for tears to roll down my face, but they freeze behind my eyes. But then, the protective walls I built smash and crash as I wave goodbye to them. Anguish overwhelms me. What can I say in such a situation? My mind is a blank space, like the electricity shut down, and I can’t detect the switch to light it up again. I scream and scream in my head, but there’s no one to guide me through the darkness. I breathe out a dejected sigh and stare into nothingness. Whatever Alex notices causes him to shake me as his desperate pleas penetrate the haze I’m in.

  “Say something.”

  I fight my tears back and shut my eyes in reply.

  “Bria, you were innocent. Your cousin set you up, and I will show Damien and everyone else the video, and that bitch will face the consequences.”

  “Destroy this video, so no one, and I mean no one, will ever see it.”

  “Are you insane? Why should I? I have proof of your innocence, and you want me to make it disappear?”

  His brows knit together, and I press my forehead on his.

  “I am thankful for it, but it changes nothing. I damaged this family once, but this time, I am the one to protect it.” Alex squeezes my shoulders, forcing my eyes to rise and meet his.

  “Listen to me, you destroyed nothing. Monica sabotaged it, and her accomplice drugged you. You could have died, and she gets to have a happy ending?”

  I shrug, irony dripping from my mouth. “At least someone in this family should get one. However, you misunderstand me. I’m not giving her a happy ending. I’m giving it to Damien.” Incredulity flashes in his eyes while I go on. “I owe him this, and I don’t want him facing another betrayal. I would do anything for him. He’s the reason my heart beat again.”

  I gauge his reaction as shock transforms his face. Is it that much of a surprise, my admittance? Didn’t Alex see behind the maze of my mad love for Damien? If not, he just fooled himself into believing whatever he wanted.

  “I know you can’t understand how such love is even possible, but it is because Damien and I had it. I lived in the bubble he created for me. You’ll destroy the video so the love of my life can be happy.”

  His wide eyes bore into mine. It is as if he doesn’t recognize me. I feel the same as if this night shifted something inside of me. I claim my closure by confessing some truths I believed were buried too deep, but they were just in the vicinity, lurking and waiting for me to accept them. My voice doesn’t falter as I place my hand over his.

  “Oh, Alex, the lengths I would go for him . . . What I would do to protect him? I would sacrifice everything and everyone
for him. Without him, what you see is what his absence has caused me. Don’t look at me as if I’m a complete stranger. You are the one who never wanted to accept the truth.”

  I pause. I hope Alex will acknowledge the only truth that shaped me. My love for Damien is out of my control. It is surreal. If someone asks me what love is to me, I will say, “Love has the most addictive smell, musky and earthy, with a hint of spice and heat. It has two powerful arms in which I made myself a home. Love’s mouth can set my entire world aflame.”

  I test this definition of love only in my mind. A lost feeling beats the sad chord of a forgotten song, and pangs of raw pain stab my heart.

  I emerge from these wonderings and put my arm on Alex’s shoulder, clasping it. “And as my thank you, I will confide in you something no one knows, not even your father. Maybe then you’ll realize once and for all my loss can never be undone. Nothing can bring it back. In its place are only scars marring both my outside and inside.”

  “Don’t you dare tell me what I should see in you because I’ve lived with the shadow of Damien in our home every day for seven years,” Alex shouts, and I pat his hand.

  “I am sorry. Believe me. I would never harm you on purpose.” I stroke his high cheek with the back of my hand and continue, “That day I went home and told my parents what had happened, and had my first heart attack a few days later.”

  “Yes, I heard the story.” He rushes his words out. We are both on edge with our feet facing the door, our bottoms fidgeting on the barstool.

  My throat squeezes my vocal cords as I add, “I’m sure you’ve pondered on how I got the personality disorder syndrome that led to my emotional detachment.”

  His jaw tightens as he doesn’t want to hear another distressing reason I wouldn’t stay with him. “Don’t tell me only to leave afterward.”

  But I couldn’t stop, not now. Seven years of keeping this secret . . . I long for an ounce of lightness—the freedom of confession whispers at me, tempting me to continue.

  “This stupid video you showed me makes my pain a joke because playing it ruined everything and can’t give me anything back.”

  “I’m sorry, Bri—”

  “Don’t be. It isn’t your fault. Losing the love of my life made my heart ill, and no surgery can fix the damage . . .” I pause because there is no going back, and even after so long, the hole doesn’t shrink. I grip the last of my energy and courage and continue, “The loss of Damien, and of . . . of . . . our unborn child nearly killed me. True, this video proves my innocence, but it changes nothing. Inside, there is only a rotten heart.”

  My pain reflects in his sunken eyes. I cup his face with my shaky fingers as I lay my forehead on his. “Now, you know everything, and all I wish for is to be alone. I am sorry. Let me go because I have become a ghost. I’m a dead woman roaming around. This is the truth, my truth. Please destroy the video.”

  The color drains from his face. My confession hangs in the air of the now eerie and silent room. The bartender’s sleek movements are the only audible sounds as he pours a drink to a slouched man who looks frighteningly on the verge of collapsing. I only allow myself a moment to peer at his fallen shoulders, head held low, and gaze fixated on the glass as if it contains the answers to all his misery. I tear my eyes from him and focus on Alex as he begs me with his eyes to stay, but I can’t bear all these feelings at once. I jump to my feet, spare one last glance at Alex’s heavenward expression, and bolt through the door. I reach my suite and slump on the carpet. The pain penetrates every fiber of my being, and I let it shatter me.

  DAMIEN

  Welcome to hell, Damien, have a nice stay.

  Her confession and her selfless attitude regarding my so-called happiness wreck me.

  She gave me her blessing to marry the woman who caused her illness and the loss of our baby, the same woman who, with one action, destroyed us, our love, and our blissful existence. Bria is innocent. She never betrayed me. With the truth out, endless anger brews inside me.

  We would have been parents by now of a mini Bria or a mini-me, but we would never know that joy, would we? I shut my eyes and squeeze my fists while pain crushes me underneath. Monica took everything I ever wanted in such a cruel and cunning way. My lungs burn with every new breath I draw in. I’ll make her pay by taking everything away from her. One thing after the other, slowly, deliberately. Nothing will remain of her.

  Tonight’s events hit me hard. For sixteen years, I lived for Bria, my Bria. And for the next seven years, I lived for business and did everything in my power to forget about her. What have I done?

  I caused it all for letting my ego and hurt consume me and not being there when my love lost her heart to illness, her mind to numbness, and the product of our love to death. My insides crumble as I realize that I was a father to a child who would never live a day of its life. Our baby set out to be doomed by my reaction. It was a lack of reasoning and trust toward my better half. Now, as the veil drops from my eyes, I relive that day, looking at the situation through a different lens.

  When I stepped inside her hotel room, she didn’t react like a person caught in bed with someone else. She looked like she always did when she saw me—utter love, adoration, and happiness shining in her dreamy eyes. Why couldn’t I detect something was wrong with the entire picture? Her eyes had sparkled, and she didn’t cover herself as I assume would be the proper way in such a situation. She stood there with her neck craned, and a corner of her rosy mouth quirked up. It was not guilt etched in her gaze, which would be her normal reaction if she had just slept with someone else, but more bewilderment. Bria stroked her temples and then attempted to wipe the sleep from her eyes in circular movements, some color returning in her face.

  She nibbled on her bottom lip as a fine line appeared between her brows. Reservation on my part was something she had never faced before. I had always been like a starved man, and she was the only one capable of quenching the hunger inside me. Every time I arrived from London or a business trip, we would lock ourselves in my room, claiming each other for days until returning to our reality—our families and responsibilities. Why weren’t her uncharacteristic reactions enough to clue me in something was all wrong? Her brows furrowed, and then her eyes followed my hollow gaze to something beside her in bed.

  Her smile slipped, her eyes bulged out, and her face went blank. Time froze.

  It strikes me now how I sprung to such a conclusion. She still blames herself, even though she’s been a victim this entire time. Bria sees herself as the one who caused our downfall and not her snake of a cousin. But the guiltiest is me, as I presumed the person who would give her soul away in a blink of an eye for the person she loves betrayed me. Her downfall results from how she always loves, with absolute selflessness. I never deserved her.

  Bria was the only person who could bring out the best and worst in me and always, in the end, bring me to my knees.

  How did I forget everything I knew about her in one moment of complete despair? Instead of becoming paralyzed, I should have asked her for an explanation like any sane person would have done in my place.

  But the thing is, when the unthinkable happens, it takes possession and turns you into its puppet. By the time you gain back your control, you’ve lost everything and can’t change the outcome. I had maybe minutes to regain my composure, but the pain pulverized any lucidity. I stormed away, leaving the love of my life to bleed by herself.

  ***

  A glass slams down on the bar, and a contemptuous voice drags me back from the land of bitter memories. Alexander towers over me, his pulse banging in his neck, and then he sinks onto the barstool next to me.

  “Have you seen the video? Sleeping with the enemy suddenly has a whole new meaning.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue, but it is the insinuation of his words that makes my skin crawl.

  “Does it fill you with satisfaction?” I retort, my gaze locked with his.

  “I hoped you would witness it, and when I saw you sneak in her
e, I carried on with showing Bria what my father discovered. How does it feel to know the person you’ve hated with a passion for the last seven years is innocent, while the woman who shares your bed and is soon to be your wife is the reason for it all?”

  I bend to Alexander as his brows snap together, and his jaw tightens.

  “Why now? I’m sure you’ve had it for a while.”

  He narrows his eyes at me and snarls, “Tonight, I have done everything in my power to break her walls . . . but nothing works, not my love, not realizing she did nothing wrong, and not even you, Damien.” He runs a hand through his hair, and a flash of something like disappointment reaches his eyes before resuming a challenging expression.

  “She never was yours, was she? But I’m sure you’ve enjoyed making me believe she was all these years, haven’t you?”

  It is more than a verbal confrontation. It is a long-overdue battle, years of frustration taking a toll on us. We jump to our feet, and our eyes clash together, our flaring nostrils just inches apart.

  “You’re the expert in the matter, aren’t you, having her all for yourself and then losing her out of your own stupidity? All I’ve wanted these last seven years is her love. Yes, I blame you for everything because you’re not only the cause of her destruction but also the person who took away my chance of finding happiness with her.”

  The tension cloaks us. The bartender clears his throat in an apparent warning we have to behave as he keeps polishing a glass in the corner of the bar. I undo the first button of my shirt and slump in my seat again. Alexander follows suit. I grab the glass in front of me and allow the searing effect of the whiskey to ground me.

  “Blame me all you want for your unhappiness, but I don’t give a fuck about your feelings for her or that she doesn’t return your love. I have my own demons to spar with. Someday you’ll find someone to fix your sad little heart. For Bria and me though, there is nothing out there to patch the damage. You’ll be fine, eventually.”

 

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