Page 98 of Misdeeds of a Billionaire

Except, I didn’t know who I was trying to convince. Her, or myself.

Neither one of us ever felt settled in half-assed relationships. Seeing our parents deliriously happy ruined us. Or maybe gave us a brand-new perspective on love and relationships.

“He’s safe and happy,” she said in a low voice. “But you need to be happy too. It’s been so long since I saw the old you.”

“The old me,” I murmured. “I don’t even remember the old me.”

My sister’s arm wrapped around me. “Don’t you think it’s time to try?” I shrugged, unsure how to even answer that one. “Beforehebroke your heart. Before Dad died. Before it all went south.”

My chest squeezed. It seemed like a different lifetime. Everything had happened in the span of a few months. We went from being happy, to our whole life falling apart. And Senator Ashford ensured it would all be taken away.

I could forgive a lot. But not that. Never that. Father had been everything to me.To us. And the senator’s cruelty robbed us of years with him.

A single gunshot. I had never heard the sound until that night, but I knew—deep down, I fucking knew—it could only be one thing.

Billie and I jumped to our feet, the chairs falling backward with a loud thud.

We ran in the direction of our father’s study. He always spent his evenings there.

“Dad?” Billie banged on his office door, panic lacing her voice.

No answer.

I stepped forward, pressed the handle, and pushed the door open. After the loud bang, it was eerily quiet. Too quiet. With dread in the pit of my stomach, my eyes roamed the room.

Stepping through the door, I froze.

Father’s slumped body, his head on the desk, was the first thing I saw. A hole in his temple was the second thing that registered. Blood was the last. So much blood, seeping over the shiny surface of his pristine white desk.

The scent of copper entered my lungs. I’d been around it often enough to recognize its smell. Billie screamed. It sounded distant, like I was underwater and somewhere far away where only this pain existed. The ache in my chest spread, wider and deeper, until each breath sent shuddering pain through me.

I hadn’t moved from my spot, my eyes following the river of blood spreading across the desk. Crimson against white. My sin—my mistake—caused this.Icaused this.

I took a step, then another, my limbs stiff and my heart heavy, until I reached my father. Billie still screamed in the background, but I could barely hear her. The buzzing in my brain drowned out all the noise. All except for one voice.

Mine. “You did this,” my guilty conscience whispered. “You did this. You did this.”

Dad’s usually warm eyes were vacant. His gaze was focused on something in his hand.Bu-bum.Bu-bum. My heart thundered achingly and pain hammered through my bones, seizing my breath as I stared at the last thing Dad saw before he took his life.

I fell down to my knees, blood trickling from the desk and dripping onto the hardwood.

Drip.Drip.Drip.

Blood soaked my knees as I stared at the photograph of our family.

The last photo of Maman, Dad, Billie, and me together, laughing happily in front of the private clinic.

My mistake put the final nail in the coffin and cost Dad his life.

I shook my head, chasing the memories and anger away. My chest ached. God, I missed him. Even after all this time, the raw pain of losing him stole my breath away. I always dreamed of practicing alongside him. Tag-teaming and traveling the world on medical missions. Always coming back home, to the French Riviera.

Letting out a heavy breath, I tugged my sister. “Let’s go,” I said, heading toward the table where Ares played. “I have items to purchase. My husband’s list.”

With Ares’s hand in mine, we spent the next two hours shopping. From Hermès, to Dior, Chanel, and ending with Valentino. Byron’s black American Express and his last name opened every door and made every salesperson eager to assist.

Although I didn’t think I’d ever get used to spending someone else’s money.

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