Page 67 of Billionaire’s Ruin

Her eyes met mine—glassy, uncertain, but soft. She leaned down, her hair brushing against my cheek as she pressed a kiss to my face. Her breath trembled as she whispered, “Believe me.”

“What are you doing to me?” I demanded, panic surging.

Before I could move, Lucy lunged. I thrashed, and Nurse Angela jumped on top of me, her weight pinning me down. The bed creaked under the struggle, metal against metal.

“Just hold on,” Lucy said again, voice barely audible as the needle pricked my skin. “You’ll feel better soon. I promise.”

The world started to blur. Her face—her soft brown eyes tilted sideways, fading into a whirl of light.

I wanted to believe her—God, I did.

13

June

* * *

“What is this?”

He opened the small velvet box, the kind that usually held jewelry—rings, engagement ones especially. The soft click of the hinge made my heart skip.

“Your ring,” he murmured simply.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “I was really hoping it’d be a necklace… or a pair of earrings.” My awkward laugh echoed in the quiet room.

“Nope.”

“It’s not really mine, though. We weren’t really⁠—”

“I know, I know.” He let out a sigh, exasperated but still warm. “You’ve mentioned that like a thousand times. But I bought it with you in mind. And I want you to keep it, even if you were never going to be mine.”

“Oh, Dannie.”

The way he uttered it—so certain, so gentle—made something inside me ache.

It was hard not to be tempted by a man like him. I wasn’t even sure what I really wanted from a man anymore, but Dannie… Dannie was everything I should have wanted. A man who had seen hell and still chose kindness. A man whose smile could silence my worst thoughts.

He was the definition of a fine man—great-looking, successful, charming in that quiet, effortless way. And putting the triad aside, he was good.

Deep down, I knew he was good. He didn’t choose that life; it was forced upon him. He stepped up because his family needed him—and somehow, that made him even more honorable in my eyes.

Even now, lying in the hospital bed with an IV in his arm, he still looked devastatingly handsome. His broad chest rose and fell under the thin blanket, his eyes gleaming with that teasing spark. I’d caught the nurses sneaking glances, whispering, giggling behind their masks. They didn’t know him like I did—but even strangers could tell there was something magnetic about him.

And yet, beyond all the charm, what drew me most… was how he felt like home.

“I…” My voice wavered. He hadn’t proposed, not exactly, but I knew what he meant by that little box. “Let me think about it.”

He took my hand, his palm warm against mine, and kissed the back of it softly. “That’s all I ask.”

Yes. Definitely yes. My brain screamed for me to say it. He was perfect. We were perfect. So why was it so hard to form that tiny, three-letter word?

Did he love me? Maybe.

Did I love him? I… I wasn’t sure.

And that uncertainty scared me more than anything.

A knock on the door startled me. I turned, blinking away the haze in my head. A nurse stood at the doorway, holding a clipboard.