Page 65 of The Billionaire's Fake Wife

22

Sin

"My father?" She pales further. The pink strands of her hair seem too bright against her gaunt features. She's too damn skinny.

"When was the last time you ate?"

She blinks, presses her knuckles to her eyes, "Answer me first, why do you want revenge against a dead man?"

"Because—" I take a step forward, stop. I’d meant to tell her all of this, of course, just hadn’t thought it would come so early in the game. Too bad. She’d thrown me a bouncer and I’d flung the ball right back at her.

I hadn’t meant for it to lay her so low that she’d faint.

Bloody fucking hell. When she’d collapsed… my heart had stuttered. Everything inside of me had come to a halt. Only when I caught her before she hit the floor, did I realize that I had raced to her.

Ha! The cold-hearted gazillionaire who’s swallowed companies for breakfast, laid low by the sight of a woman fainting. If the business media had seen me then, eh? Thank fuck I'd caught her before she’d hurt herself. If she had, I'd never have been able to forgive myself. I shake my head. The fuck am I thinking?

I square my shoulders, thrust out my chin.

"Because?" She lowers her hands. Her gaze is a little wild, her pupils dilated from the shock.

"Because he destroyed my life and those of my friends, and because…" Why do I care that I’d wanted to break the next piece of news to her gently? Why does it matter that it would hurt her? This is what I wanted, right? To sway her to our side, no matter what it takes.

To lure her father into my trap. I need to see the bastard pay, and this is the most foolproof way, so damn the collateral damage, right?

I set my jaw.

"Because he’s alive."

She blinks. "No."

"Yes."

"No, you don't. My father was killed in a plane crash. They never found his body…he—" Her chin wobbles, "He didn’t die, did he?"

I shake my head.

"So… where… where is he?"

"In the States."

"How did you track him down?" She frowns, "Or for that matter, me and my sister?"

I click my tongue. "Do you really have to ask me that question?"

"How many people did you have to pay? How long did you search before you found us?" She squeezes her elbows into her sides.

"Does it matter?"

She draws in a breath. "Guess not." She wraps her arms around her waist, and I notice the goosebumps on her forearms.

"He never reached out to me in all these years." Her shoulders slump, "He let me and my sister think he was gone. He left us alone."

Emotions spike her features. Her hands clench at her sides. My heart lurches. I shouldn't have sprung this on her without warning. Eh? What am I thinking?

I ball my fists.

I did exactly the right thing. The faster she realizes the real reason for this charade, the better it will work.