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Page 123 of The Damaged Billionaire's Obsession

I scoff. “Can I live with sending my father to prison? The man who shackled my mind and almost destroyed my life with his harmful and false teachings, plus those of my mother and countless others as well? The man who made us live in poverty while he was off gallivanting two months out of the year on exotic vacations for the past twenty years? For fuck’s sake, some of the clothes I wore had holes in them! I used to patch the damn things.”

I take a calming breath. “So, Twiggy, the answer is fuck yes. Every single one of them should be locked up.”

“Smashin’. Because the shit show ends now.”

“What will you do?”

“We'll just drop a few hints here and there, let the papers sniff it out. Guards and the fraud squad will be on it like a rash.”

That’s probably the best thing I’ve heard all day. Although it’s not nearly enough to begin to address the damage, it’s a good start. “Sounds like a good plan, Twigs”

I drag my heavy feet towards the master bedroom, which Twiggy has vacated for me tonight in favor of the couch.

The moment my head hits the pillow, I grab my phone and start scrolling through my phone for any messages I might have missed since yesterday. Maybe Ethan sent me an email. It might be that there’s a glitch with the network that isn’t letting the calls connect. At least an email would deliver. I’ve not really had time to check for updates since before Sabrina’s baby shower, which seems like a lifetime away.

I wonder what my friends would think of my mother. They’ve never heard me speak about her, and then, all of a sudden I’ll have a mother who lives with me?

I think about Vancouver. I have maybe a couple of hours left before the offer is no longer good. They probably already think that I don’t plan to take it.

I should have asked for an extension to the deadline. I’m too ashamed to admit the reason I didn’t do it was because I thought Ethan might ask me to marry him. I felt it was at the tip of his tongue many times. Once or twice, I almost asked him myself, but I’d sworn I never wanted to hear the awful word “no” from Ethan again.

If I let the offer go, and Ethan breaks my heart…I’d have nowhere to go, no safe haven to hide away and lick my wounds. I can’t even think of that outcome.

Jordan's text arrives.

Jordan: Luke says to tell you not to worry. He's been in touch with Ethan. He's okay.

That does nothing to reassure me. I worry that Ethan has somehow gotten hurt. Maybe his surgery didn't go well. If he was fine he would be calling me himself.

I toss and turn, unable to shut off the millions of thoughts and scenarios playing in my head.

There’s a soft knock, and Twiggy pokes his head into the room. “Hey.”

I look up at Twiggy’s voice.

“Did I wake you? I know yer shattered.”

“No, come on in, Twiggy.” I sit up, grateful to no longer be alone with my thoughts.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “Ye look right stressed.”

“Oh, Twigs, I’m going through a literal wringer, and my head is clouded with thoughts. I just can’t relax.”

“Ethan?” he asks.

“His dad says he's okay, but I've not heard from him. His phone is off. I can’t even handle thinking that he might not be okay. But the odds aren’t looking very good at the moment Twiggy.” My voice is wobbly, and I’m struggling not to cry.

“Did he mention where he was headed?”

“He had meetings in Berlin, then a medical procedure in Munich. It’s for his eyes,” I explain.

He nods thoughtfully, and I know he wants to say something. “Siobhán.”

He knows something. “Aw, fuck no,” I wail. “Twigs, please, I can’t bear it, don’t tell me.”

“He’s alright, love. He’s just not in Munich. He’s not even in Germany.”

“What do you mean he’s not in Germany? Where is he?”




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