The billionaire’s obsession

Nichole’s POV

The hospital corridor smelled like antiseptic and sorrow. I adjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder and my discharge papers creased in one hand and my dignity was barely clinging to the other.

I didn't cry yet, maybe not because my heart was bleeding. I had laid in a cold white bed overnight, staring at the pale ceiling tiles, waiting for someone to walk through that door.

Daniel didn’t come.

My mom didn’t call.

Neither did Dad.

The silence was louder than any heart monitor.

Claire had sent me a message around midnight, asking how I was. She would’ve been here in a heartbeat if I told her where I was, but I lied. Told her I was tired and would check in tomorrow. I didn’t want to seem pitiful. Not again.

Now, as I stood in front of the apartment Daniel and I shared, I realized how foreign it suddenly felt. Like a place I no longer belonged.

The moment I reached for the knob, my phone rang.

Claire.

I picked up quickly. “Claire?”

“Nichole! Where are you?” Her voice was sharp with worry.

“I just got discharged. I’m at the house,” I said. “I was about to go in when you called.”

“Don’t. Just don’t go inside yet.” Her voice cracked. “Go online. Check your mother’s page. Now.”

She hung up.

I frowned, my chest tightening with confusion. What could possibly make Claire sound like that?

I opened my I*******m, searching for my mom’s account. The second it loaded, my breath caught in my throat.

There it was.

A photo.

My fiancé, Daniel, his arm draped casually around Lila, my stepsister, like they’d always belonged to each other. Lila, smiling with that too-sweet expression she wore when she was being fake. My mom and dad flanked them, all grins and champagne.

I felt like someone had poured ice water down my spine.

But the caption was what broke me.

“Having the best of times with my daughter and future son-in-law. ”

Daughter?

Future son-in-law?

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the porch with a dull thud. I stared down at it, unable to breathe.

They had replaced me, publicly.

While I was in a hospital bed with an IV stuck in my vein, they were clinking glasses and smiling for the camera like I’d never existed.

I blinked back tears and picked up the phone. My fingers trembled, but my fury was stronger than my heartbreak.

They wanted war?

Fine.

Let it begin.

I shoved open the door. The slam echoed through the apartment.

Daniel looked up from the suitcase he was packing in the living room. His face twisted the moment he saw me.

“Oh, look who finally decided to show up,” he said bitterly.

I closed the door behind me. “Where are you going?”

He tossed a folded shirt into the bag. “Where the hell have you been?”

I froze. “Are you serious right now?”

“I’ve been calling! No word, no text! What am I supposed to think?” He walked toward me, eyes narrowed. “You spent the night out—were you cheating?”

I laughed.

It was bitter and cracked and ugly.

“You think I was cheating?” I repeated.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t twist this.”

“I was in the hospital, Daniel!” I snapped. “I collapsed at work from stress. Claire tried calling you, and she told me she left a message. You didn’t even check.”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to his suitcase. “Right. The old I-was-sick excuse.”

My hands clenched into fists. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” he scoffed. “You disappear, don’t even have the decency to communicate, and now you’re mad because I’m spending time with your family?”

“My family?” I asked, the word sour on my tongue. “You mean the people who replaced me in a post like I was a placeholder?”

He didn’t even look ashamed. “You’re being dramatic again, Nichole.”

“And you’re cheating on me with my stepsister!”

He turned slowly to face me, arms folded. “She’s not your blood. And honestly? At least Lila knows how to treat people.”

I felt the breath leave my body.

He said it with no hesitation. Like it was a fact.

All the sleepless nights I’d spent supporting his dreams, making his meals, defending him to my friends, and now I was being compared to someone who had spent the last two years trying to ruin me.

“Unbelievable,” I whispered. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Oh please,” he said. “You and your sob story. You act like you’re some abandoned orphan.”

“I was abandoned,” I said sharply.

He hesitated.

And there it was. The truth I had learned to bury.

I was adopted at eight. My parents had lost their biological daughter,kidnapped, that was what I was told. After years with no trace, they adopted me and treated me like their own. I grew up believing I was wanted. Loved.

But two years ago, Lila returned.

She had been found in a small town after surviving an accident that caused memory loss. The DNA test confirmed it, she was their daughter. The one who never truly disappeared from their hearts.

After that, everything changed.

The warmth drained from my mother’s eyes. My father grew distant. And Lila? She wore her sweetness like a mask and whispered poison behind closed doors. She said she’d take everything I had, “what should’ve been hers.”

They let her.

Now, she had Daniel too.

“Are you even listening to me?” Daniel’s voice snapped me back.

I met his gaze. “Yeah. Loud and clear.”

He grabbed his cologne and stuffed it in the suitcase.

“Where are you going?” I asked again, quieter now.

“Business trip. Investors in Dubai.”

I crossed my arms. “Since when do business trips require you to pack condoms?”

He paused.

I stepped forward, holding up the small foil packet I had just pulled from the suit jacket he tossed aside. My fingers trembled as I held it between us like a crime scene exhibit.

His mouth opened and closed.

“Nichole?”

“I can’t even decide what’s worse,” I whispered. “That you’re cheating. That you’re so casual about it. Or that you’re still trying to make me feel like I’m the crazy one.”

“Don’t start this again,” he muttered. “You’re always playing the victim.”

I laughed again. This time louder, and sharper. “Maybe because I am.”

He zipped up the suitcase like I wasn’t even there. “If you’re done throwing your fit, help me finish packing.”

I stared at him, the man I once thought I’d marry. And in that moment, something inside me cracked open,something cold, dangerous, and new.

“No,” I said.

He looked up. “What?”

“I’m not helping you pack,” I said. “I’m not playing house, or fiancée, or any other role that makes it easier for you to stab me in the back.”

He snorted. “You’ll come crawling back.”

I stepped closer, holding his gaze. “No, Daniel. This is the last time you’ll see me crawl.”

I dropped the condom packet onto his suitcase and walked to the bedroom. He called after me, but I ignored him.

I packed a single bag. Essentials only.

My phone buzzed again. Claire.

Come to my place. Now. I’m making pasta, and I’ve got a bottle of red with your name on it. We’ll cry, then burn shit if necessary.

I smiled for the first time all day.

After slipping on my flats, I walked back into the living room. Daniel stood near the window, staring at his reflection like he didn’t recognize himself.

“Goodbye, Daniel,” I said.

He didn’t turn around.

Good.

Let him see what it feels like to be left in silence.