All Chapters of Mira Regret's Her Heartless Billionaire Ex: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I had gone home and had a brief, private conversation with my own reflection about the kind of person I was choosing to be.On Friday evening I arrived at seven-thirty through the back entrance, as directed, and was shown to the small sitting room adjacent to the kitchen that had been designated as my waiting area for the evening. It had a chair, a side table, and a view through a half-open door into the main hallway. I set down my medical bag. I sat.The guests arrived from eight. I could hear them, the particular noise of people who have dressed carefully and feel good about it, the laughter that comes easily when you believe you are exactly where you are supposed to be. Voices I didn't know. Then Lisa's, rising above the rest, bright and proprietary, conducting the room.At eight-forty-five, the housekeeper appeared and told me Mr Davis would take his evening meal in his room and could I please bring his medication up.I was glad to have something to do.He was sitting in his ch

I nodded back and studied her without appearing to study her, a skill seven years of clinical practice had made almost unconscious.Her eyes, I noticed, moved briefly toward the stairs, toward the upper floor, toward Mr Davis's room, before returning to the papers in her hands. It was a small thing. A reflex.Possibly nothing.Possibly everything.That evening I called Petra and described the device without explaining where I'd found it. She confirmed my identification, her ill-advised ex-boyfriend, she said dryly, had briefly been into the same thing, and suggested I look up the manufacturer.I did. The brand was European, expensive, the kind of thing purchased by people who could afford to take information seriously.I lay in bed that night and looked at the ceiling and thought about trust, which was a thing I had been rearranging and rearranging since the morning I drove through the gates of this house and found that everything I thought I understood about the situation had a roo

MIRAThe invitation arrived on a Thursday, which was the same day I had decided I was done being surprised by anything.I had just finished Mr Davis's morning check, his blood pressure was steadier than it had been all week, a small mercy, and I was packing my bag when my phone buzzed on the side table. A message from a number I didn't have saved, but that I recognised by now the same way you recognise a voice before the person finishes saying your name.It read: There is a charity gala on Saturday evening. I would appreciate your attendance as my guest. Seven o'clock. Dress code is formal.No please. No explanation of why. No acknowledgment that this was not a standard professional request, that being summoned to a black-tie event was several categories removed from being asked to check his father-in-law's blood pressure.I read it twice. Then I set my phone down and finished packing my bag and told myself I would think about it later.By the time I reached my car, the reply had wri

MIRADamien left for a business trip the Tuesday before the gala. Singapore, the housekeeper mentioned that it had something to do with a regional expansion, and I learned within a day that his absence changed the temperature of the house in ways I hadn't anticipated.With him gone, Lisa stopped pretending.It began small.A schedule change communicated late, deliberately, so that I arrived to find Mr Davis already agitated, his morning routine disrupted by a physiotherapy appointment Lisa had rearranged without informing me. Then it escalated; a comment in front of the staff about how peculiar it was that a family physician required quite so much personal attention, said lightly, said to no one in particular, said precisely loud enough for me to hear.By Thursday, she had stopped bothering with subtlety."You don't need to stay so long," she said, finding me in Mr Davis's room as I finished his afternoon notes. "He's stable. You've said so yourself. There's no reason for you to ling

DAMIENHe landed at four-forty, cleared customs by five, and was in the car by five-fifteen, jaw set, jet lag pushed down beneath something sharper and more immediate.He had spent the flight not sleeping. He had told himself it was the time difference, the recycled air, the general discomfort of long-haul travel, but the truth, which he allowed himself to examine only in the particular honesty of thirty thousand feet, was that he had spent twelve hours thinking about a phone call.Mira's voice, careful and precise, describing the small accumulated cruelties of his own household. The way she had tried to minimise it, it's not a complaint, even as the details made clear exactly how much restraint that minimising required.He had built an empire on his ability to identify a problem and solve it efficiently. This particular problem had a name and an address, and both of them belonged to him.The car pulled through the gates at five-thirty. He went straight to Lisa's wing of the house, f