Page 70 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire
Chapter28
Odette
Adifferent building. A possible lifeline. Another billionaire.
We were still in downtown D.C., roaming the streets, while a single thought kept running through my mind.
Go to Byron.
Maybe I could beg for a loan. Maybe offer him… what? We had nothing.
Or you can tell him he’s Ares’s father, my reason whispered. Or maybe we could just say Winston was the father, since he’d already jumped to that conclusion in New Orleans anyway.
My heart revolted at that thought. Fuck, too many lies. Too much deceit. Those words his father threw in my face at the hotel, the money he had shoved my way, and his visit to the hospital all those years ago still plagued me. Was it the right choice to cut all ties with Ares’s father at that point? Was it even smart to seek out Byron now? I didn’t know.
I thought all our ties were cut when, by some miracle, my baby was safe. I hadn’t lost it. Although Ihadlost Byron, once and for all. I never sought him out again. I couldn’t let his father hurt us. Not anymore, not when I had a baby to protect.
If the Ashfords came after Billie and me, we’d deal with it. The most important thing was that Ares would be safe. Protected from the diamond smugglers.
My mind drifted back to that day six years ago when I sought him out to give him the news of the pregnancy. It seemed like a different me. Different universe.
I stared at the door of the hospital room for hours after Byron left. A single scuff mark became my entire focus as I ignored this pulsing ache in my chest. Tears blurred my vision, but I refused to look away from that spot on the door.
What was I hoping for?
I didn’t know. Maybe to wake up and realize it was all a nightmare.
I didn’t know why losing the baby shattered me so badly. I was approaching the four-month mark and had started making plans. For the baby. For a family. So many “what ifs” played in my brain over the last weeks. This wasn’t one of them.
I swiped at my cheek with the back of my hand, but it was utterly futile to stop the tears. My chest felt tight. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t even muster the energy to close my eyes. Not that I could calm my mind enough.
Byron’s words echoed in my brain. The baby didn’t make it. His eyes weren’t cold nor cruel. Nothing like his father’s. Worst of all, Byron didn’t seem repulsed. In fact, pain slashed across his face when I told him to leave.
Maybe I should have confessed what his father did to me. Maybe I’d fucked up and had no one to blame except myself.
The hospital door opened and my heart fluttered lightly, full of hope. I held my breath as one foot appeared. Expensive shoes. Expensive suit. Then the man came in full view.
The breath in my lungs was cut short.
Senator Ashford stood in the doorway, and suddenly, whatever I had in my stomach threatened to make a messy reappearance.
A shudder rippled down my spine. There was something about this man that creeped me out more than anything. Maybe it was the cold, calculating cruelty in his eyes.
In measured, even steps he strode over to my hospital bed.
My heart drummed against my ribs, cracking them with each beat.
“You can’t be here,” I rasped. Why did this man always show up whenever I was vulnerable?
His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. My hands instinctively came up, both my fingers wrapping around his wrist, my nails digging into his flesh.
“You almost cost me everything.” His grip tightened. My ears buzzed. The oxygen thinned. “You want to die, girl?”
I kept clawing at his hands, terror seeping through my pores and flooding my bloodstream.
“Let go of me,” I croaked, my words barely audible.
His grip loosened—barely—but he didn’t let go. “Do I need to wipe everyone you love and everything you have away for the message to get through your thick skull? Or maybe you want your sister to get a taste of my wrath?”
