Page 108 of Trailer Park Billionaire

He takes a step toward the door, then pauses like he’s just remembered a punchline.

“Oh, and do me a favor,” he adds, suddenly sharper. “Tell your little trailer park boy-toy to keep his nose out of this. Or I will deal with him. Permanently, this time.” Maximilian pushes the door open, causing it to crash against the wall.

I flinch. Just slightly. But he catches it, a grin spreading over his face.

“I’ll be by tomorrow evening to pick this one up,” he says, gesturing to the painting on the easel. “I think it’ll make an excellent Father’s Day gift: a fantastic forgeryandEdFrame’s granddaughter as our indentured artist. It’s almost too sentimental, isn’t it? My old man will have a heart attack too.”

And with that, he leaves. The door clicks shut like a guillotine blade.

For one long second, I don’t move.

Then the dam breaks.

I scramble across the floor, nearly tripping over the rug in my rush to the door. My hands fumble on the lock, heart crashing against my ribs. I twist the key. Slide the chain in place. Yank the curtains shut. Check the windows. Lock. Lock. Lock.

Then I sink to the floor and let the grief and fury explode.

He knew. Ben knew.

He was one of them. The family that destroyed mine. The family that extorted and caged my grandfather. He is one of them. And he was using me like his brother was using my grandpa.

He doesn’t feel the same way about me like Idodid about him. It was all just an act.

I should’ve known. Should’ve seen it. The easy charm, the soft words, the too-perfect timing. I was being played. I let my guard down, and then I let him in.

“Good job, Helena,” I whisper, knees pulled to my chest, the apartment spinning. “Ten out of ten. A-plus. You found yourself a Lyon in sheep’s clothing.” The laugh that comes out of me feels like broken glass. Too sharp. Too loud. It’s like it belongs to someone else. “I always knew love was a scam,” I mutter to no one. “Should’ve just married a nice drug dealer and called it a day.”

A sob slips out. I swallow it. It burns all the way down. The bruise around my eye that’s almost entirely gone starts pulsing again.

I stare at the painting on the easel. The one I’ve been pouring myself into. The one that was supposed to get me out of this mess. Now it’s only getting me deeper into it.

“This is what happens when you trust people,” I whisper, voice cracking. “This is what happens. They either leave you, or they fuck you over.”

This is what happened to Grandpa. They framed him. Used him. Blamed him. And he still died in their debt.

I press the heel of my palm to my eyes. Trying to press the pain away.

“Guess I’m next.”

I stay like that for a long moment, the silence thick as oil.

Then a key turns in the lock.

37

HELENA

Iscramble to shut the door the moment I hear it open. The chain on it only allows for a little gap. Quickly, I slap my palms against the wood, sending an echo through the room that makes me wince.

The door flies shut again.

The apartment seems to hold its breath between us.

Ben calls my name from outside. When I don’t answer, he unlocks the door once more, and rams his shoulder into it, causing the chain to snap off, and me to tumble back.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks when he sees me on the ground. “I thought someone had?—”

The look in my eyes causes him to shut up immediately. Whatever emotion of worry had been on his face melts away in an instant. He notices the puffiness. The redness. The way my mouth trembles even though I’ve got my jaw clenched so tight I could crack a tooth.