Page 117 of Dial B for Billionaire

Her face goes blank. Like I've just confirmed her worst fears about who I really am.

“You're right,” she says with a hollow laugh. “There's no such thing as a benevolent billionaire, is there? Your money comes from destroying lives. I knew that. I’m an idiot to think you wouldn’t destroy mine.”

“That's not?—”

“I think you should leave.”

The words hit like a physical blow. This woman who whispered she loved me, who made me believe I could be better, now looks at me like I'm poison.

“Layla, please?—”

“I need space, Bennett, please. I can’t do this.” Her voice cracks. “I can't be with someone who’s values are so completely different from mine.”

“Don't say that.”

“Why not? It's true.” She faces me again, and the pain in her eyes nearly brings me to my knees. “You know what the worst part is? I actually convinced myself we wanted the same things. That you cared so much about me, about us that you would let my company survive if I could make you enough money with our tech. But this was never the plan, was it? You were just stringing along the naïve little COO while you surged forward with the plan to dismantle her world.”

“No.” The word tears from my throat. “What we have is real.”

“Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it looks likeyou were planning on getting me out of your system and discarding me along with everyone else.”

Her words shatter something inside me. “How can you say that? After everything?—”

“After everything what? After you let me fall in love with you while actively planning to betray me? After you let me believe we had a future while plotting to eliminate my family name?” She's crying hard now, but her voice stays strong. “I told you I loved you, Bennett. And you've been lying to me this entire time.”

“I haven't been lying?—”

“You've been planning to fire my father. To shut down our research. To eliminate almost everyone I work with. You’ve sat with me almost every night, Bennett. Watched me working myself to the bone. And you never said a word.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. “What do you call that?”

I open my mouth but no words come. Because she's right. I have been lying. To her, to myself, to everyone.

“Please go,” she whispers. “I need you to leave.”

“Layla—”

“Please.” She can't even look at me anymore. “Just go.”

I want to fight. Want to grab her and make her listen. Want to explain that I'm not the monster she thinks I am.

But looking at her—broken, betrayed, destroyed—I realize maybe I am.

So I go. I leave her standing in the center of her apartment, arms wrapped around herself like she’s the only one holding her together, and I close the door behind me, walking away from the best thing that ever happened to me.

In the car, staring at Chicago's lights through thewindow, I replay every word. Every moment. Searching for what I could have said differently.

But the truth is brutal and simple: She's right about who I am. I am exactly the man she thinks I am.

And for the first time in my life, I hate myself for it.

LAYLA

The knocking won't stop.

“Layla? It's Mom. I know you're in there. Your doorman told me you haven't left in days, and frankly, I'm concerned about the smell.”

I peel myself off the couch, catching my reflection in the hallway mirror. My Northwestern sweatshirt has achieved new levels of filth. My hair could deep-fry chicken. Three days of takeout containers form a monument to heartbreak on my coffee table.

I crack the door. “How did you?—”

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