Page 9 of Falling for the Wrong Billionaire
I don’t know what it is, but I know I want to see her again. I want to understand why I can’t stop thinking about her.
I step outside and into the bright daylight, but the moment I leave the clinic, I realize I don’t want to leave the feeling of her behind. I want more time with her, even if I don’t understand why.
Chapter four
Lucy
The insistent ringing of my phone cuts through the silence, jolting me awake. My head feels heavy, the remnants of sleep still thick around my mind, and for a moment, I can’t remember where I am. The light filtering through the blinds tells me it’s early, too early to be this awake.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. The name on the display sends a cold shiver down my spine: Dad.
I blink, trying to shake off the sleep, and swipe to answer it. My voice comes out groggy, thick with the remnants of dreams.
“Hello dad?” I mumble, my eyes still shut, willing the conversation to be short so I can fall back into the warmth of my bed.
"Lucy," my father’s voice booms through the phone, sharp and clear. “You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
I sit up immediately, a wave of anxiety hitting me faster than I can react. I’m awake now. Fully awake.
“I—no, I wasn’t avoiding you,” I say quickly, trying to keep my tone even, not letting the guilt slip through. “I've just… been busy.”
There’s a pause on the other end, the silence hanging in the air, and I can feel the weight of it. My father doesn’t miss much, and he knows I’m not telling him everything. He’s been pushing the engagement more than ever lately, and every conversation feels like it’s slowly suffocating me.
“You know what’s coming, don’t you?” he continues, his voice firm, authoritative. “The engagement is imminent. I’ve arranged everything with Grant’s family. We’re finalizing the details.”
I close my eyes, my heart sinking. The words feel like a punch, like the air has been knocked out of me. I swallow, trying to push the tightness in my chest away. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to talk about it.
“I know,” I manage to say, my voice quieter now, too soft. “You’ve said this before.”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, Lucy,” he snaps, the irritation clear in his voice. “This is important. I’m giving you time to adjust, but you have to understand, this is how things are done. This is what’s best for the family. For the business.”
I take a breath, letting the words hang in the air, but they feel like a weight on my chest. For the family. For the business. That’s all it’s ever been about. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand what this is doing to me, the pressure, the suffocation.
“I just need a little more time,” I say, my voice cracking before I can stop it. “Please.”
“Time?” My father’s voice turns cold, and I can hear the impatience in his tone. “We’ve given you time. You’re gettingwhat you wanted, time away, a change of scenery. But when it’s time to come back I don't want any issues. Please.”
I press my hand to my forehead, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to keep the panic from taking over. I look out the window, the view of the quiet town outside, the early morning sunlight casting long shadows on the street. It feels like a world away from the suffocating world he’s trying to pull me back into.
“I... promise there won't be any issue,” I say, my words barely a whisper. “I just can’t do this yet.”
“You don’t have a choice, Lucy. The decision is made. You’ll be coming back soon. We’ll get everything in order. I expect you to behave accordingly.”
His words sting. The finality of it hits me harder than I want to admit. I can already feel the weight of the future closing in, the life I’ve been running from tightening around me.
I try to keep my voice steady. “I need more time. Please, just give me a little more time.”
There’s a long pause on the other end. He’s quiet, considering my words, but I know what’s coming next. I know how this goes. I’ve been down this road with him so many times before.
“Okay, Lucy,” he finally says, his voice stern. “You’ll do your part, just like you always have.”
I swallow hard, blinking back the rising tide of frustration and helplessness. “I understand,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
“Good,” he says, his tone lighter now, almost as if the conversation is over. “Let’s not drag this out any longer. Goodbye.”
Before I can say anything else, he hangs up. The click of the line disconnecting is deafening.
I sit there, holding the phone in my hand, staring at the blank screen. The weight of the conversation settles on my shoulders like a stone, and I feel myself sink back into the bed, the warmth of the sheets doing nothing to ease the cold feeling in my chest.
