The Billionaire’s Pawn

STRIKER

Jesus Christ.

She could have hurt herself if I had been late just a second.

As adrenaline rushed through me, I caught her before she hit the floor. Guilt, regret, and shame engulfed me.

I was thankful that Linden dragged me out of my apartment to come to the house. When we saw the news on tv, I knew it was only a matter of time before London would learn about it.

I grabbed the tray and put it on the counter a little stronger. I stared at it with my jaw clenched and my hands formed into fists. “Goddamn it.” When Reef told me that most of the stock was untouched, I thought she was takeouts. It never occurred to me that she looked like she was starving herself. It hurt to see her not taking care of herself. And I had the feeling that she was sick.

She lost a few pounds. I knew London. I knew her body. And she just threw up.

“Don’t make me say I told you so.”

“Just say it.”

“Just hire a cook or a helper if you still have no plan to stay with her.” Linden was done with the pancakes. He began with the omelet, London’s favorite.

“If she doesn’t eat all this, I swear I will shove it into her mouth,” I said through gritted teeth as I brought another glass and poured cranberry juice.

He chuckled. “Your fault. You let your bruised ego get the best of you. You chose to leave her alone instead of cuddling her to sleep.”

“Just shut up.” I snapped. “Finish it so that she can eat.”

“Yeah. And I’m getting paid as your breakfast chef.”

When I threw him a glare, he just smirked.

Once he was done, I stuck three pancakes on the plate and poured a good amount of syrup. Then I put the still-smoking omelet she loved on the tray. “Can you give me a knife and a fork?”

“And table napkin.”

“Thanks.” I went up quickly, two steps at a time, and found her staring at the wall.

I wanted her to eat and take care of herself. I wanted her to be healthy and happy, but I was failing. I gave her LH, a house to stay in, a peace out of my life, but nothing worked for her.

As I blow-dried her hair, I realized something and wished it was true.

“Finish your food.” I was almost done, and she hadn’t eaten half her breakfast.

“Yes, sir.”

I groaned as I turned off the hair dryer and put it on the nightstand.

“This is too much for breakfast.” She started complaining now she got her strength back.

“Just eat what you can.” I ran the brush on my hair one more time.

“You ordered me to finish my food.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I still can’t-”

“Don’t. I didn’t ask about what you saw on tv. Forget about it. It’s over now.”

Her shoulders drooped as she sighed. “I’m done eating.”

I checked the tray. She finished the omelet but barely ate a quarter of the pancakes.

“You don’t like pancakes?”

“I’m not a fan of syrup.” Oh. I didn’t know that.Property belongs to Nôvel(D)r/ama.Org.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Pancake without syrup is not a pancake. That’s classic.”

“I like whipped cream and fresh fruits.”

“Of course you do.” I got off the bed, put the tray on the table, and then faced her. This time she looked at me. I could still see the daunting effect in her eyes and the deep sorrow there.

“I’m tired,” she said.

“You look tired.”

“Jeez, thanks.” She dragged herself back and leaned against the headboard.

“Have you been sleeping well lately?”

“Yes, doc.”

“Vanderford, this is not a joke. Did you manifest eating disorder symptoms?”

She rolled her eyes. “Wow. You read a lot of WebMD. You saw me throwing up, and now you wanna diagnose me?”

“Do you think I’m joking right now?” This woman was stubborn as fuck. I wanted to squeeze her out to talk. I was already vibrating in anger. “You talk to me, or I will drag you out of this house and take you to a doctor.”

“You’re too violent, Striker.”

“You’re giving me no choice. If I check that medicine cabinet or drawers and see any medicines that are not supposed to be there, you’re doomed. You’ll stop working until you get yourself help.”

“Huh?” She curled her lip and wrinkled her nose at me. “I’d love nothing but to stay in the house as long as I get paid. Is that part of my punishment? Go ahead and try harder.”

I shut my eyes closed for a brief moment and breathed through my nose. My blood began boiling again. My anger kept on piling up.

“This is what you wanna see in me, right? Being worthless. I’m lacking motivation right now. I lost all hope. I feel like I’m living, but I know I am not. You hate me. Well, I deserve it because I hurt you. What shocks me the most is why you still give me the job. You already bought the only thing that I worked hard for from my father, and you don’t want to divorce me. What else do you wish to accomplish here?” The sentence cracked her voice. She shrugged and looked away when tears filled her eyes.

“I bought it because that’s what matters to you. That’s your life’s work. Your father ruined our lives. I won’t give him the satisfaction of taking and profiting from what you worked hard for, for two years. Why didn’t you ask for your share? Or file for the damages. It’s your brand, London?”

“Do you think I will win against the Vanderford Group? I don’t think so. It was my mistake to trust my father in the first place. I came up with the idea of creating my own brand way back before I went to college. I chose Fashion Design and Management because the Vanderford Group has always inspired me. Then that incident happened. I was just so lost- at that time, I wanted to heal and spend my time creating something worthy- that’s how London Hester began. I signed a contract that I wouldn’t own the trademark but would get a fifty percent profit in five years.”

“So you will get fifty in two and half years?”

“Yes. Now that you own it, I’m waiting for them to finalize the entire sale.”

I nodded in understanding. Then I thought of something to uplift her. “You wanna be a shareholder?”

Her eyes lit up. “Will you let me?”

“I’m offering you.”

“Did you just buy it for sixty?”

I shook my head. “No. If you wanna buy a share, it will be based on the current stock price.”

“Of course.” She was not impressed. “Now you sound like our fathers.”

“It’s business, Vanderford.”

“Whatever.”

Now here came the scary part. “Are you pregnant?”

Her reaction was instant. She stared at me with big eyes and her mouth hanging open. She then closed it but still stared at me, unblinking. “What?”

“My question is valid. We slept together many times.”

“Jeez. But who’s counting, right?” She rolled her eyes.

“You know your sarcasm amused me before, but it starts to be annoying right now. Are you carrying my child?”

She glared at me momentarily before opening her mouth to speak. “You know what? If I’m pregnant right now, that’s not probably yours because I checked if I was weeks ago, and I wasn’t.”

“Choose your words carefully, Vanderford.” I was already on my feet, giving her the same intensity as her glare.

She touched her tummy. It was still flat. “See? I could have been carrying your child for almost three months since we started sleeping together. But no. I’m not pregnant. What did you see in the bathroom earlier?” She pointed at the door. “That was me having my not-so-best moment. I had a panic attack.”

“You’ll have a servant this week.”

“I don’t want a servant,” she said stubbornly as she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Can you cook?”

She answered me with a scowl.

“Then you will have a servant.”

“I said I don’t want a servant,” she insisted strongly. “What I want is someone here to sit with me, to talk with me. Even just for an hour.”

“Then tell Neke to come.”

“You’re so dumb, jerk.”

“I can’t. I have a lot-”

“Yes, I know you have a lot on your plate, but I need my husband.”

She still didn’t get it, did she? “You had a husband, but you pushed him away. You wanted a divorce and didn’t fucking tell him why. You trusted your judgment and didn’t even give him a chance to make things right if he ever did wrong. Now you want to decide that you need your husband back because you feel like you need one? Well, let me tell you this, London. You won’t get what you want from now on. If you want a man in your life? I won’t stop you. Go ahead. You can have fun, but make sure anyone who knows we are married will never find out about your affair.”

“Or what? What are you going to do, huh?”

“You won’t like it, and you won’t get anything, and I swear to you with my life. If you want me? You need to earn that trust again. If you want me back in your life? You need to unbreak my heart.” That was all. I couldn’t stand there and watch her cry, or I would be breaking my heart again and again, and at this point in my life, I was so fragile and on the brink of getting mental help. Still, I walked out unapologetic.

She was maybe my wife, and I still loved her with all my soul, but she couldn’t even apologize after what she put me through. She expected me to crawl back to her, but that would not happen. If she wanted me back, she would beg for it.

After she broke my heart, I was still lenient. I still gave everything she needed when her own father turned his back on her because one thing I couldn’t deny, I was still her husband. She was still my responsibility. That was my duty.

“What now?” I didn’t have to tell Linden. He read the look on my face as I met him at the entrance.

“I need a drink.” I got in the car.

“Early in the morning? No way, brother.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Do you wanna go to the ranch?”

“Too far.” But that was not the main reason I didn’t want to go and see Beck. I hated it when they were right.

“We’ll hijack the jet.”

“Not a good idea. Besides, we’re going to Italy on Thursday.”

“We’re going?”

“If you wanna come.”

“Who else?”

“Pa-”

“Pa?”

I groaned. “Moses.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Pa, London, Reed, and Pa’s men. Linus will go in his jet.”

“You need to give me more info.”

“If you are worried about our safety, Pa got it covered. I just want someone I trust on my side.”

“That sounds more concerning.”

“It is. We’re meeting Conti and Gaetano.”

“What the fuck? Gaetano? The Siciliano crime family?”