All Chapters of Dear Billionaire, I'm Back For Your Name: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

EmilliaDarkness. That was all there was.I could feel someones’ presence in the room but I refused to open my eyes. No,the feeling of someone driving a nail on my head couldn't allow me to.“Lights…” I groaned,lifting my hand to cover my eyes.“Oh.” Came the soft response before the room became dim.I forced my eyelids open and stared at the man infront of me.Green eyes,wide and fixated on me.“Are you okay?”I look at my arm where the IV was inserted into a vein.“Well,I'm not getting my vitamins,am I?”He shook his head but didn't say a word.I glanced around the room.“Where's my husband?” “Taking care of some things.”I frown.”Did he really go ahead with the mission? Why are you here? What time is it?”The door opens and a man walks in.“Emillia,how are you feeling?”Dumb question.I almost died yet everyone is busy asking that same question. He pushed the trolley next to the bed.“You will have something light for now.”He arranges the plates.“What is that?”“Lamb,fetta skewe

GregoryArthur’s sob was a broken, pathetic thing, echoing off the framed scripture verses on his dining room walls. I watched him sink back into his chair, a man utterly hollowed out by a truth he had spent two decades praying away.Arthur raised his bloodshot eyes to meet mine, his chest heaving. "You are a demon," he whispered, his knuckles white against the edge of the table. "You and your father both.”"A demon?" I tilted my head, letting a cold, mocking smile touch my lips. "No, Arthur. I am a businessman and a husband. You sent three boys to do a man's job, and because of your incompetence, my wife,your flesh and blood is in the hospital. Now, tell me... how does a devout man of God live with the knowledge that he paid for the bullets that almost killed his own daughter?”"I didn't want her hurt!" he roared, slamming his fist onto the open Bible. The leather cover jumped against the wood.I nod thoughtfully. “So you've said.”Arthur shook his head frantically, his breathing sha

EmilliaAfter a week of me pestering my husband about my training,he finally gave in convinced I was healed enough.Gregory guided me toward a pair of heavy, iron reinforced double doors at the far end of the basement corridor. He pressed his palm against a digital scanner. A soft beep echoed, followed by the heavy, mechanical click of the locks disengaging.When the doors swung open, the scent of expensive leather was instantly replaced by the sharp, metallic tang of gun oil and cold steel. An armory.In the center of the room stood a long wooden table, entirely bare except for a…gun.“We're starting with shooting?”Gregory stepped away from me, walking around the table."If you want to live in my world, Emillia, you don't get to rely on weak punches," he said, picking up the weapon and laying his eyes unto mine with an intensity. "You need to understand how to use weapons. Every single one you can get your hand on. You need to be ready to pull the trigger without hesitation."I swa

EmilliaMy hands were shaking, my palms raw and smelling faintly of sulfur and gun oil. I had spent the last three hours in the basement with Lucious, taking apart that black pistol until my fingers moved automatically, memorizing the weight of the firing pin, the spring, the slide.I wanted control. I wanted the power to ensure that the next time someone shot at a car I was in, I wouldn't be the one waking up in a hospital bed.When I pushed open the door to our suite, the words I was about to say to Gregory died in my throat.The room was dimly lit. Gregory was leaning forward, his face dark and intense, while Francesca, the head housekeeper, was on her knees on the floor, her face wet with tears. The atmosphere in the room was so thick with tension that it had me suffocating.They both snapped their heads toward me the moment the hinges groaned and I stepped in.Francesca scrambled to her feet instantly, wiping her face with the back of her sleeve, her professional composure slamm

GregoryI didn't need to turn around to know who had just walked into the range. The heavy, uncoordinated footsteps and the obnoxious scent of expensive cologne gave him away instantly.Sebastian.My brother leaned against the doorframe, a half-empty glass of scotch in his hand despite it being barely nine in the morning. His eyes were bloodshot, his dark hair a messy fringe over his forehead, but a malicious, mocking smile was plastered across his face as he looked at Emillia holding the smoking firearm."Well, well, well," Sebastian drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "I see they've decided to give you some of their toys. Tell me Emillia,on a scale of one to ten how well can you aim now?"Emillia didn't flinch. Instead, her posture stiffened, her eyes narrowing into slits as she turned her body toward him, the gun still held firmly in her hand. She raised the gun and aimed it directly at Sebastian."Careful, Sebastian," Lucious warned from the corner, his hand casually drif