Page 22 of Billionaire’s Ruin

Besides, if Wendy hadn’t secretly reached out to him that day—if she hadn’t defied me and called him—then Kai’s mother might have succeeded in what she intended. And I might not be standing here now, in this quiet apartment that smelled faintly of coffee and aftershave and something I couldn’t quite name.

The memory of Kai flickered through my mind, uninvited as always.

Some days, I tried to hate him. To remind myself of how he’d broken me—again. But even anger lost its edge after a while, dulling into something quieter. Sadness, maybe.

At least this time, I had been the one to walk away. That had to count for something.

He’d offered his flat without hesitation when he found out I’d booked a flight to Kuala Lumpur. I hadn’t planned on coming to Penang at all. I stayed in KL for a few nights, hiding out in a Marriott room that smelled like industrial carpet and loneliness, scrolling through Airbnb listings while trying to convince myself I didn’t need anyone’s help.

But I’d said yes to Dannie in the end—on one condition. I’d pay rent.

Of course, that was weeks ago, and he still hadn’t sent me a bill. Every time I brought it up, he’d wave a hand and change the subject, saying something about “more important things.”

My gaze drifted to his bedside table. I crouched down and pulled open the drawer—the same place where I’d once found mosquito repellent and a flashlight. Instead, I spotted a small white box: paracetamol.

The expiry date was two months ago.

Normally, I would’ve told any of my patients to toss it out. But for something mild like paracetamol, I wasn’t particularly worried. It would still do its job, even if a little less effectively.

I rummaged through the already messy drawer, pushing aside loose packets of pills and bandages in search of a thermometer.

No luck. There was no way of knowing how bad Dannie’s fever was. If it was mild, this expired paracetamol might still do the trick.

“Hey, dinner’s ready,” his said softly, coming from behind, startling me like I’d been caught stealing.

I spun around, the box still in my hand. “You scared me! I was just looking for this. I couldn’t find a thermometer in your… medicine drawer.”

“It’s not really a medicine drawer.” Dannie leaned against the doorframe, a faint half-smile playing on his lips. “I keep my condoms there too.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Right. Very organized.”

“I don’t think I have a thermometer,” he added, feigning innocence.

“Hmm. Come here.”

He stepped closer, and we met halfway. I reached up and pressed the back of my hand gently against his forehead. His skin was hot—too hot.

“About… thirty-eight point five degrees,” I muttered automatically.

Amusement flickered across his face. “Wow, impressive, Dr. Bennet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. My dad might be good at the hand thing, but I rely on actual equipment. I’m guessing at best.”

“Young doctors these days,” he teased, voice deep and husky.

Ignoring the flutter in my chest, I held up a strip of tablets. “I found this. Expired paracetamol. Only two months past due. It should still be effective.”

He grimaced. “You sure? What if I get diarrhea?”

“You won’t get diarrhea from this.” I narrowed my eyes. ”But please—don’t tell anyone I gave you expired meds. My pharma rep would have a stroke.”

“I’ll take it,” he said, his eyes lighted up, “on one condition.”

“What condition⁠—”

Before I could finish, he opened his mouth wide, pointing a finger inside like a kid demanding to be fed.

A small huff escaped me. “Fine.”