Chapter twelve: Too Close to Hate

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• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter Sixteen: Guilt and Gall

  Lucian was right, I needed to do something. Right now !!“Someone get my black medical kit!” I barked. “It’s in the drawer by the window in my room. Run!”One of the maids sprinted without a word. My training had kicked in and every ounce of panic got locked away in a mental box I’d open later.I dropped to my knees beside Sienna just as Lucian tried to adjust her, but he was fumbling like someone trying to solve a puzzle blindfolded.“Pin her down!” I ordered.He looked at me, stunned. “What?”“Hold. Her. Down,” I snapped, already pulling her hair away from her face.“She’s seizing. She could hit her head, choke, or break something. I need her steady.”Lucian hesitated for half a second, but he swallowed whatever pride or arrogance he had obeyed my orders immediately, gripping Sienna’s shoulders roughly.“Not like that, gently,” I corrected, guiding his hand. “We’re stopping her from hurting herself, not suffocating her.”Her arms flailed again, eyes rolled back, mouth gaping o

• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter fifteen: Beyond repairs

  I stared at Sienna for what felt like an eternity. My brain slowly connected the dots, lit this fuse preparing for impact.My nerves came crashing as I stood up, my chair screeching against the polished floor. The noise alone should’ve shattered the ridiculous fantasy world she was living in.“You’ve lost your damn mind.”Her face didn’t flinch, but her fingers tightened around the edge of her teacup.“Scarlett—”“No, don’t Scarlett me right now,” I snapped.“What the hell is wrong with you? Why?! Why would you even think this is okay? Why would you want this?”Her voice was softer this time.“Because I don’t have much time.”Those words tugged the guilt sitting in my chest. This wasn’t fair. This was emotional blackmail.“I’m dying, Scarlett,” she said.“You know that. And… my body can’t carry a child. Not anymore. Not after…”She hesitated, gaze dropping to the table.“I’ve had miscarriages, Scarlett.”My breath hitched.“How many?” I asked before I could stop myself.She looked

• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter fourteen: No One Asked Me

  Sleep? What was that again? I don't remember falling asleep but I'm sure it wasn't more than four hours of it. I had spent the night going through that stupid contract at least fifty times. Back and forth, page by page, clause by clause, try to find any hidden camera or a part where it suddenly burst into flames and revealed itself that this was one cruel horrible prank. A mistake. A game. But sadly, no such luck. It was all very, very real. Everything spelled out in those neat, expensive fonts and benefits that seemed too good to be true made me want to scream. A fully furnished house somewhere secluded once the baby was born. Every debt I ever had…student loans, credit cards, the loan sharks that I owe, all of it was going to be taken care of. A state-of-the-art hospital facility under my name the moment I signed. And a fifteen billion dollar payout by the time I delivered. Fifteen. Freaking. Billion. Not millions. Not “here’s a check, go start a juice bar.” Billio

• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter thirteen: Terms and Outrage

  “No. Just wondering if you’re this mouthy when you beg.”I stared at him, mouth halfway open, not because I was speechless, or maybe because I was but… Also because I was deciding whether to slap the smug off his perfectly symmetrical face or just walk away before I combusted and launched on him.Lucian didn’t wait for a reaction. He pushed off the wall, his face slipped back into that cold, unbothered look as he marched toward the desk, brushing me off like I was invisible again.“I don’t have time for this,” he said flatly, voice clipped and laced with irritation.He started shuffling through the chaos he’d made earlier, paper after paper flying being careful pushed around as he searched. I stood there, trying to catch my breath, trying not to let the fact that I was still rattled by his cockyness.I hated that he got to me. I hated that I was even still standing here.Finally, Lucian grabbed a black folder from under a pile, gave it one last glance, and held it out to me like it

• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter twelve: Too Close to Hate

  I wasn’t exactly in the mood for another encounter with Lucifer Montgomery, but apparently, I didn’t get to decide when hell wanted me.A different maid came this time. Like the rest she was Quiet, polite, and just as uncomfortable as the last. She didn’t say much. Just offered me a tight smile and gestured for me to follow.We moved through the silent house, her shoes clicking softly against the polished floors while mine padded behind hers like I was being led into a trap I already regretted agreeing to.Can’t the bastard of a billionaire see it’s already late? Whatever he wants to talk about, can’t it wait till morning? The maid stopped in front of a tall, dark wood door and gave it a light knock before pushing it open.“He’s expecting you,” she said gently.Then she disappeared before I could make a sound.I stepped inside, expecting immediate fire and brimstone or whatever dark twisted vampire taste he had like his personality. Instead, the room was empty yet gorgeous.Lucian M

• I Hate You, Mr Billionaire.    Chapter eleven: Two S’s and a T

  I didn’t move right away. I just stood there. In that beautiful, tastefully-decorated living room that now felt like it had teeth. The cushions still held the shape of where Sienna had curled up, coughing blood into her palm. The maid stood patiently by the hall, giving me space. She didn’t rush me. Just stood there with her hands folded in front of her, giving the impression that she’d seen worse things in this house and learned to wait them out. When I finally moved, my legs felt heavy, as if I’d been dragging the entire day behind me. “Ma’am?” she said softly. “Shall I take you to your room now?” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. If I opened my mouth right now, I’d either scream or sob. Possibly both. We walked down the hallway, none of us saying a word. The house stretched like a damn castle with wide halls, soft lights and walls that were too clean, too perfect. It was a place that made you feel like you didn’t belong, no matter how straight you stood.