Page 39 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

I nodded, unable to find my voice. Billie and I held hands, and I wasn’t sure whether she was holding me up or vice versa.

It felt like I was in a fog, lost and confused, as I tried to make sense of it all. Dad was gone.Gone.The buzzing in my ears, lack of sleep, Billie’s hysterics—probably my own too, but I couldn’t recall it—had me grasping for my sanity.

Billie’s grip on my hand tightened, and I had to stifle my wince. It hurt, but I didn’t want to complain. She needed me. I needed her. Jesus Christ. How did we get here? Was this Senator Ashford’s doing too? Dad had put the gun to his own head, but the timeline said enough. Just days after the senator ripped the rug out from under our family, my father took his own life.

“My condolences.” Another sad smile. Another nod.

The couple—whom I’d never seen before—moved to the left and Billie yanked me, forcing me to start walking.

“What’s the matter?” I rasped, my throat squeezing so tightly it hurt to talk. “Where are we going?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Billie hissed. “You can’t do this anymore. We buried Dad. It’s done. We don’t need to put up with this after-party. It’s morbid.”

I let out a sigh. “I think that’s the point.”

God, I was tired. So fucking tired. This single week had sucked so much life out of me that I couldn’t fathom how we’d carry on. I was due back at Stanford. They’d given me an extension due toextenuatingcircumstances, as they’d called it.

A shuddering breath rocked my body.

“You and I need fresh air,” Billie muttered. “We need to be alone.”

The door of the funeral home opened and fresh air hit us in the face. Yet, I couldn’t draw in a breath. Dad was gone, and it was all my fault. I couldn’t breathe.

I followed my sister, my black flats soundless against the pavement. Just like my guilt. I tried to smother the voices in my head—shut them the fuck up—and focus on the click of Billie’s heels against the pavement. The sound of her black dress rustling against mine. My sister was only a year older than me. She’d always been the more reckless one, whereas I was the more responsible one.

But ever since Dad died, she seemed to be the rock. My rock. Hand in hand, we made our way through Villefranche-sur-Mer and down the promenade until we got to the sea. This was where we mourned our mother all those years ago. It was our first stop when we moved here. This was the spot Billie had cried her eyes out after her first heartbreak. This was where we were now mourning our father.

The sun slowly descended behind the horizon of our hillside village, the sea glistening with its last rays. Each minute extinguished another until there was nothing but dusk surrounding us.

“He’s gone.” My voice was hoarse. My throat hurt, but it didn’t compare to this pain in my heart. “How are we going to survive this?”

Billie’s hands cupped my face. “I got the money to pay for your tuition and to set us up for a bit so we are not stone broke.”

I blinked in confusion. That was a hundred grand. In U.S. dollars. She had already paid for Father’s burial expenses. It all happened so fast, I never even got the chance to ask her how.

“How, Billie?” I rasped. “And I can’t take it. You take that money and you go to Paris. Make your mark.”

Her grip tightened on my cheeks. “No. Fuck no. You will finish medical school. I have enough for that. Then I’ll follow my Paris dream.”

“But—”

She cut me off. “I’m the oldest and what I say goes.” When I opened my mouth to protest, she covered it with her palms. “This is what Dad would want. We have to do this.” Her voice cracked. “For him.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, shattering my soul into a million pieces. It was at that exact moment that I broke. We broke. A sob tore from my throat. Or maybe it was hers.

And as the moon made its way through the dark sky, our soft cries mixed with the sound of crashing waves.

We cried. Together.

Chapter15

Byron

The day was dreary.

I was about to leave today when I saw the announcement in the paper. The death of the good Doctor Swan. I’d never made it back to see him at the hospital. My back was well enough, and Odette made it clear she didn’t want to see me.

I knew when I wasn’t wanted.