When He Became My Shelter: The Billionaire's Vow

Too many times, I have found shades of red lipstick on his collar, the scent of vanilla clinging to his crisp white shirt and the hickeys that accompany him home.

Glaring, and like a slap on my face. He didn't pretend. 

And after two years, it stopped to hurt.

Because he always came home to me.

But tonight, he left a note. He won't be coming home for the next two month. 

My chest dropped, fingers trembling around the edges of the note, eyes scanning the quickly scribbled line for extra meanings.

I picked my phone and dialled his mother's residence. He said he would be there.

At the second ring, the familiar hoarse voice of the old maid came through. Her voice came through, low and sympathetic. 

“ I'm sorry, child. No one has been around. Madam West has been gone for two days now.”

“ Okay. I understand. Thank you.” I mumbled, and hung up, the phone sliding down to pause on my chest. 

I gulped, and bit my lower lips. I can feel the sharp sting of tears in my eyes, but I try to convince myself it's not what I'm thinking. 

The same denial I have lived in for two years now.

I inhaled deeply and let out a muffled sob. “ Is this how it ends for us?” 

My phone vibrated. I checked it at once. Maybe a text. Maybe he changed his mind about his destination and finally texted to inform me.

Instead of his name, my doctor's appointment popped up.

Another chemotherapy schedule. A reminder that it's tomorrow.

My eyes brimmed. I glanced around, dabbling, searching for a distraction. With none, I started packing for tomorrow. Since I have to leave as early as 7:00am, I should get myself together.

Then it occurred to me Lawrence was supposed to drive me. He doesn't think I should have a car. I informed him about my appointment, but like the last two times, he is absent. 

“ Maybe it skipped his mind,” I thought and got down to pack. I made a collection of songs to listen to. Shania Twain. Whitney Houston. Celine Dion. And my favorite, the song that carries my hope: Unbreak My Heart by Toni Braxton.

With nothing in my personal account, I opened my bank’s app and logged into our joint account. 

“ Incorrect password.”

I tried again the second time. The same message reflected. I know I remember it. It could be a system glitch. 

I shrugged the doubts clawing at my mind and tapped “forgot password.” After awhile, I set a new password, and sent Lawrence a message with the new password, but when a new email pops up, along with old emails, the reality began to sink in. 

My husband had changed the password of the account just earlier today. And he had moved a huge amount from the account. 

Receipts started dropping. 

Purchase of a new car for someone called Emilia.

Two months rent for a flat in New York.

Payments made to shopping malls. Beauty Salons. And one credit alert.

I opened the message, my mouth already dry with a lump deep in my throat. 

Receipt of a purchased house. My husband is a medical doctor, not an estate manager. 

Curiosity pushed me to check the statement. I found the name listed. Since the bank is a Fintech, it was easier to add the first digit to get the phone number. 

“ Hello… apologies, Mr. Lawrence is drunk at the moment but he wanted to know if what you made is the full payment…”

“ Umm… I should blame his state, not you. It's exactly the amount he put the house up for.”

“ The house?” My breath hitched. I glanced around, fearing the last thing that has ever crossed my mind. “ Forgive me, I shall like to think there are two houses involved. What's the address of the one you purchased? I need to confirm you paid in full.”

I heard a muffled grunt. “ No. 55, Phil Avenue, GoldenCity.”

This house… my house.

He put my home… a house I got from my parents on sale.

“ Oh by the way, extend my regards to him. I believe he is still grieving his wife's death. Let him know I said hi anytime he's sober.”

The phone dropped from my trembling hands. I groped for a flat surface and lowered slowly. 

My thoughts fired back at me. My brain stalling, muscles quivering. He wouldn't do that to me.

I managed to go outside and asked a neighbor, my mom's friend, to contact my lawyer. Something rang in my head. And inorder to know the truth, I couldn't speak with him myself.

“ Lawrence sold my house. My parents home. I need to know if our lawyer was aware.”

Nostrils flared, she dialled his line and managed to stay calm. “ Please, Sir, I just noticed that the house next to mine has been sold. Celeste would have told me if she wanted to do something like that. Her mother and I were inseparable. Pardon this old woman, but do you know about this?”

A long pause followed and when his voice came through, it had a burning undertone. “ I am on my way. If Celeste is there. Tell her to hang on…”

“ Might we know what's happening?” She cut in at once.

“ Mr. West showed me her death certificate. He was her only kin. Everything naturally went to him.”

“ Oh God!” I held my chest. My feet withdrew in shock. My heart stuttered. My mind blanked. I felt the ground sink beneath me.

“ Why would he do that to me?” I cried late into the night, even after speaking with the lawyer. 

“ You can stay with me until you're better. You shouldn't go back there…”

“ No. No. It's my mom's home. It's my father's. I was raised in that house. No one can take that from me.” I cried, running back to the house. 

I had barely made it to the door when firm hands grabbed me, and another sealed my mouth, muffling my cries. I kicked, but my feet were soon bound and for over an hour, I was carried over a man's shoulder, the scar across his shoulder glaring at me until I was thrown into the back of a van.

“ You can call him now. Let him know the job is done.” Came a husky with a high pitch.

Someone cut in. “ We came a little late. Don't you think we should tell him so he could prepare for any issue that might arise…”

“ What issue can arise? We are right on time. That's a crowded neighborhood. We would have drawn suspicion if we arrived earlier.” Came the high pitch again, before the vehicle moved. 

Two days later, I dragged my feet along a track road, my body sore from repeated forceful penetration, my stomach growling, multiple wounds on my body burning with infection, and my soul weak and tired. Tears had run until they dried on my cheeks. And if I hadn't fainted hours before, maybe I wouldn't have been abandoned to die in the hideout.

The first truck I saw was speeding too much to hit the brakes on such short notice. I let it pass, waiting for any other, while on the lookout for a van.

I walked another mile limping, without an end in sight. Then I saw two girls ahead arguing over money. 

I waved and hurried up to them, limping. “ Please, can you give me a lift?”

They shared a glance, and one of them rolled her eyes. When the other stood to talk, the former blocked her. “ We have two cars. We can let you take the other. If you can pay…”

“ Come on, the lady is a mess already. She needs help, can't you see?”

“ Oh shut up!” She scolded her company and turned to me with a wide smile. “ It's a full tank. Are you going to take it or not?”

Luckily, the joint account was still accessible. I transferred the money to her, and collected the keys with no time to ask for receipts.

With the path ahead, and no idea where I am or where I'm heading, tears streamed down my eyes. “ Who do I go home to?” I asked myself, hands on the wheel, with a suffocating heaviness on my chest. Clouded by that thought, the path ahead blurred in my sight and when I heard the honk, it was too late. 

I opened my eyes to a blinding light. The air smells of phenolic compounds. Just enough to keep the place disinfected, yet disturbing at first. I stirred, but the conversation ahead made me freeze.

“ Are you sure it's her? Are you certain you have her?”

A thousand thought occupied my mind. Could it be the kidnappers? Did I collide with them? How did they find me? 

Then my mind settled on the fact it could be Lawrence. Without rethinking, my blood congealed. I felt cold. So cold life left me for a moment. “ What if it's him?” I asked myself. “ What am I going to do?”

Caught in the thought, the door swung open and a man dashed in, eyes widened, chest rising and falling sporadically, lips tilted with an inexplicable smile, and by his side, another man appeared. Older. Taller. And colder.

They don't look like kidnappers and they're certainly not people I know.

“ Hello.”

“ Hello… umm… my name is Victor Banks. I'm your brother.”

Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes. But he seemed sincere. “ I think it's a mix up. I'm Celeste RollingHill. I would know if I was related to the banks…”

“ No… that's not what I meant. The Banks adopted me, but I'm your brother.”

I tried to shrug it off, but it came down heavily on me. My parents mentioned they had a son before me. He went missing at the age of three. I got off from the bed, and stumbled towards him. My hand went to the back of his right ear in search of that birthmark I was told he inherited from our late grandfather.

“ Heavens help me!” I gasped, and met his smile. 

“ Hello little sister… meet my adoptive older brother, Godric Banks… Ric, meet my kid sister.”