BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Valerie’s POV

I stare at my mom in horror as she adjusts in her seat with a look of guilt. My Father is also sitting, just like always opposite me, watching her too with an angry expression.

I shouldn’t have come here.

My mother will never change from the woman she has always been. She had kept all of these in check simply because Father could provide for all her unnecessary demands. But now that he can barely buy her designer bags, shoes and clothes, she is hell-bent on frustrating his life.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

This man is barely holding up and this is how she wants to help him.

She stretches her hand to touch me but I stand up abruptly, making her hand drop.

My anger has increased ten folds. Probably because she made me yell at Ryan for no reason.

I thought he was being selfish again, just like every other time when he cares about only himself and not me. This time, I was wrong.

“Valerie, you should go home. It’s getting late”, My dad says after clearing his throat. “Ryan and I have no business together. This is strictly between his father and me. His father made that promise. He said he was going to help after you both are married but he hasn’t done anything. Ryan has nothing to do with this.”

I tear my gaze away from Mother and face dad squarely. For no reason, my heart squeezes painfully in my chest and I am strongly chiding myself not to cry because I feel sorry for him.

He doesn’t look sad but he is emacipated.

I got married to Ryan so I could help him become the man he was before he became a shadow of himself but nothing has been done yet.

I agree that this isn’t Ryan’s fault but he should have at least put in a few good words for my dad to his father so he could help quickly.

The help is urgent. Not something that can be delayed for too long.

I am not supposed to be mad at Mother. If only she wasn’t too desperate, maybe I wouldn’t be mad at her. If I was in her shoes, I would have done the same but I’m angry because she made me view Ryan as a bad person.

She made me hate him all over again tonight because I thought he didn’t help me on purpose while he gets all the help from me.

I should go home.

“I will visit Lorenzo tomorrow again and see what he has to say”, My Father mumbles and gets to his feet. He approaches me with a sad smile, then pats my shoulder. “I will see you off to the gate.”

My legs betray me. They won’t move because I feel numb in every part of my body.

When he raises a brow at me, he swings his right arm around my shoulder and moves, making me peel my legs off the ground eventually.

“Val”, Mother calls, making me stop walking with Father. Without turning back, I listen attentively, waiting for what she has to say. “I’m sorry. I never knew it wasn’t Ryan. Your Father won’t tell me anything and he won’t let me help him. We are selling everything. This house is the only thing left of us. I thought you wanted to get back at us or maybe Ryan doesn’t want to help and letting you know about the situation will make you talk to him…”

“Ryan has nothing to do with this, Christabel”, My father yells and I close my eyes immediately.

He rarely shouts at her. She is always the one getting on people’s nerves, acting like a child and not the 42 years old woman that she is.

“I should go”, I say and begin to walk to the door, letting Father’s hand on my shoulder drop off.

I step out onto the front door, holding onto my purse firmly as tears begin to form in my eyes, threatening to spill.

I feel sorry for them. Not only dad anymore. I never imagined it would come to this. I could tell that my dad is also desperate, he doesn’t want to show it like mom is doing. He is good at hiding his emotions just like me.

I wish there is something I can do about it. Ryan and I got married because of them. I didn’t get married to him because I wanted his money. I agreed to this marriage because I wanted him to help my parents and also help him in return.

What will he think of me now if I ask him for help? Why isn’t his father helping us already? Why is he delaying everything? What is happening? I thought they said they were friends.

How long is this going to go on? There are no more cars in the garage, only a bike that I used to ride on with my dad around the courtyard.

I am sure he brought it out so he could use it whenever he needs to go somewhere close.

At this instant, I can no longer control my tears. They spill continuously till I brace myself up to walk out of the gate.

There is no security as well. Everything is falling.

I close the gate behind me still crying, thinking of what to do as I walk down the road without trying to find a cab to take me home.

Home is still far, though but I need to think about this before getting home and talking to Ryan about my behavior tonight.

I wonder what he will be thinking now.

I try to control my tears but they won’t stop. It keeps falling, scenes racing through my head.

I am letting out all the pent-up pain in my chest, not only because my father needs help but because I am in this situation yet I can’t help them.

I keep walking with tears streaming down my eyes, deep in thought till I begin to feel cold.

I hug my arms around my body and look up to see that I am far from my parent’s home already and the whole place is extremely quiet and getting dark.

There are no cabs either.

I can’t get a cab here till I get to the end of the road. Even if I want to call a cab, I will have to get there first.

I quicken my step, sniffing, and finally, my tears stop, probably because of the fear gripping my heart. I am alert now.

From a distance, I see a light and the sound of a bike. I stop walking and wave my hand to stop the bike but it won’t stop. It brushes past me into the dark.

It looks like a delivery bike because the man on the bike is all dressed in black and also wearing a helmet with a delivery box behind him.

I sigh deeply and continue to walk, hugging my body to myself. A few meters away from the end of the road where I will find a cab, I hear the same sound coming from behind me and I turn back to see the same bike coming towards me.

Hastily, I move aside so he won’t hit me and my phone falls down to the ground. Cursing under my breath, I pick up my phone to see that it is still in a good condition.

The sound stops and I raise my head to see the man getting off the bike. He takes slow threatening steps toward me and I back away, wondering if my imagination is just running wild about him being an assailant.

I try to stay calm.

Maybe he just wants to help me, I say to myself.

I stop backing away and maintain a brave look. I examine his outfit again and my eyes catch something.

A knife. A pocket knife.

My heart begins to thump wildly in my ribcage. What the hell is he doing with a pocket knife?

When he notices I have my gaze fixed on the pocket knife in his pocket, he dips his hand inside to hide it and I turn round to flee.

Just like I am thinking, he begins to chase after me.