Page 25 of Billionaire’s Ruin

“Ouch,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “I love you too.”

I froze. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then I pushed myself off him, cheeks burning. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, brushing imaginary dust from my jeans.

But as I glanced back, his head tilted lazily against the wall, a boyish smirk tugging at his lips. For a brief, dangerous second—I almost smiled back.

I hadn’t realized when my eyelids started to feel so heavy. Dannie’s voice had become this low, soothing hum in the background—warm, steady, safe. His heartbeat thumped under my ear, a quiet lullaby, and before I knew it, my body melted against his.

Maybe it was the heat. Or the drinks. Definitely the drinks. The room tilted ever so slightly, softening around the edges. I blinked a few times, trying to focus, but his chest rose and fell beneath me, slow and calm, and it was easier to just… stay there.

“I’ll just close my eyes for a second,” I whispered, my words slurred but content.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair off my face, and my heart did a strange flip. I wanted to say something—thank him, maybe, or tell him that being near him made me feel less… lost.

But the thought slipped away before it formed.

The last thing I remembered was the scent of him—clean soap, faint smoke, and a warm, cozy undertone.

Then darkness.

And just before I drifted off completely, I thought I heard someone call my name.

Except… it wasn’t Dannie’s voice.

“Kai.”

6

Kai

* * *

I really didn’t think this through.

Regret hit me the second the car rolled away from the curb.

Being trapped in a small space with him—my so-called father—made every muscle in my body stiffen. My palms were slick with sweat, my stomach churned. I tried to remind myself he was nobody. Just a sperm donor. Nothing more.

Still, the air between us felt heavy. Suffocating.

I prayed the car’s soundproofing would be terrible. Maybe then the world outside could drown out the silence was slowly eating me alive. I kept my eyes fixed on the window, watching the blur of passing streets, refusing to look at him or acknowledge the fact that his presence still had power over me.

“Kai.”

My name rolled off his tongue, soft and deliberate—too soft. The sound shot straight down my spine, like someone unlocking a dark, rusted box I’d buried years ago.

“Listen.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” I said slowly, clearly. I wanted this talk over. I wanted to dump him by the side of the road, the same way he’d dumped me out of his life.

“I think it’s time…” he paused. Of course he did. He loved the dramatics—always had.

“Time for what?” My patience snapped. “Get on with it.”

“Divorce.”

The word hung in the air like smoke. I took a long, sharp breath, trying to process it like it was new—like I hadn’t seen this coming for years.