Page 19 of Billionaire’s Ruin

The word home slipped out before I could stop it. It hung between us, heavier than I intended. I hesitated, wondering if he caught it—if he noticed that I was no longer thinking of his apartment as his, but ours. The realization twisted something small but significant inside me.

“We’ll go back, and I’ll take a look at you, okay?”

His lips twitched in an attempt at humor. “Oh, we’re playing doctor now, huh?”

“Haha, very funny.” I crossed my arms, trying to mask my worry. “I bet it hurts to laugh, though.”

His head bobbed weakly, a shallow nod. The corner of his mouth lifted just enough to tell me he was still conscious of teasing me—and that he was probably downplaying how bad it really was.

“Come on,” I said softly, placing a hand on his arm. His skin was hot under my palm, his muscles taut with tension. “We’ll get you somewhere cool. You’re burning up.”

Everything around us buzzed with lazy late-afternoon energy—the scent of spice and exhaust mixing in the humid air, a man calling out to sell fresh coconuts from a stall nearby, the faint clang of temple bells drifting from somewhere ahead. All of it faded into background noise.

Right now, all I could see was Dannie.

He tried to straighten but doubled over again, clutching his abdomen. My heart lurched.

“Hey, stop being stubborn,” I said, more sharply this time. “You’re in no shape to go temple-hopping.”

He gave me a crooked grin. “You’re bossy when you’re worried.”

“And you’re an idiot when you’re sick.”

He chuckled, but the sound cut short as pain bent him forward again.

That was enough. I waved for our driver with one hand while steadying him with the other. “You’re done for the day,” I said, no room for argument in my tone.

This time, he didn’t fight me.

I was a little disappointed that the food tour had to end early—I’d only just started enjoying myself. For the first time, the city felt like somewhere I could belong. None of the museum visits gave me that feeling. If anything, they reminded me I was a tourist, a stranger trying too hard to understand a culture that wasn’t mine.

The food museum had fascinated me, but it hadn’t encouraged me to try local dishes. If it weren’t for Dannie, I never would’ve tasted anything beyond my usual American fare. I didn’t even dare to step into a Chinese restaurant in Penang before—too afraid someone might start speaking to me in Chinese or one of the local dialects. It seemed like such a common thing here.

Dannie refused to see a doctor, insisting I “play doctor” instead. Jokes aside, I performed a simple check-up—making him promise to go to the hospital if his symptoms got worse. After some paracetamol and a few trips to the toilet, he went for a nap.

I curled up in the recliner in the corner of the living room, reading the book I’d been looking forward to all morning. The breeze wasn’t strong, but it was pleasant, the sky now a soft blend of orange and deep blue. The view of the sunset was breathtaking.

There was no sound from Dannie’s room. There wasn’t even a time difference between Hong Kong and Malaysia, so no jet lag to explain his exhaustion. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to wake him.

I picked up my phone and automatically opened Instagram. Chloe had posted photos of Lily at her piano recital. Lincoln had been thrilled when she showed interest in music—so much that he replaced his upright piano with a Steinway & Sons grand, one of the top concert models. Luckily, Lily’s passion for music was real, and she hadn’t given up after a few lessons.

I smiled. My niece had inherited my smile. If I never had children of my own, it was comforting to know a part of me lived on through her.

Ding-dong.

The traditional doorbell chime—a sound I’d always associated with home. No trendy ringtone could ever replace it. I pressed the recliner button to straighten the seat, and by the time it stopped, Dannie was already out of his room and heading to the door.

I followed quickly. His T-shirt—same one from earlier—was now rumpled and clinging to his body, darkened by a sweat patch spreading across his chest.

Before he could reach the doorknob, I stepped in front of him and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“You’re a bit warm,” I murmured, suspecting a fever. “Do you have a thermometer?”

“I don’t think so, Doctor,” he teased, weakly smiling. “Let’s see who’s here.”

When the door opened, I was surprised to find someone other than Linda. I hadn’t ordered anything online, so it couldn’t be a delivery.

“Abang Beng,” Dannie greeted, raising his hand toward a short, stocky man holding two large black bags.