Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 16

Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire

Chapter 16

Hannah’s POV

Finn’s grip on my arm was like iron as he yanked me through his

darkened bedroom. I stumbled behind him, my heart hammering

against my ribs. I’d expected punishment for coming to his room

uninvited, but nothing about his movements suggested the usual

angry outburst.

Instead, his actions seemed… purposeful. Deliberate.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You wanted to know me, didn’t you?” His tone was sharp as broken

glass. “Let’s see if you still want to after this.”

He led me toward what appeared to be an antique bookshelf on the

far wall of his bedroom. Despite his blindness, his movements were

precise, as if he’d walked this path countless times. His fingers

skimmed over the intricate wood carvings until they found what they

were looking for–a small brass bookend half–hidden behind a row of

leather–bound volumes.

With a quick tug, the bookend moved. A soft mechanical click

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followed, and to my astonishment, the entire bookshelf began to slide

sideways, revealing a hidden door behind it.

My mouth fell open. “What is this?”

Finn didn’t answer. He tightened his grip on my hand and pushed

open the heavy door. The darkness beyond was absolute, a void that

seemed to swallow all light. A chill crept up my spine as he pulled me

forward into that blackness.

“Finn, I can’t see anything,” I whispered, stumbling slightly as we

crossed the threshold.

“Welcome to my world,” he replied dryly. “The switch is on your

right.”

I fumbled along the wall until my fingers found a light switch. I

flipped it, and dim lights flickered to life, revealing a long, narrow

room that stretched deeper than I could have imagined possible.

The air inside was stale and carried the metallic scent of old blood

mixed with sweat and fear. As my eyes adjusted to the low light, I

gasped at what I saw.

The room was a meticulous replica of an underground fighting ring.

Chains and various fighting implements hung from hooks on the

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walls–brass knuckles, leather straps, even what looked like medieval

torture devices. In one corner stood a bloodstained boxing ring, its

canvas dark with old stains that formed grotesque patterns. Training

equipment lined the edges of the room–weights, punching bags, and

what looked disturbingly like weapons designed to inflict maximum

pain.

“What is this place?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Finn’s face remained expressionless. “My therapy room. The way the

place where I grew up looks.” The sarcasm in his voice was caustic

enough to burn.

He tugged me deeper into the room, past the fighting ring and

training equipment. The farther we went, the more oppressive the

atmosphere became. Dried bloodstains marked the concrete floor,

creating a path toward the back of the room.

That’s when I saw it.

A human–sized metal cage, just large enough for a person to curl up

inside. Rusty chains lay on the floor leading to it, and the sight made

my stomach turn. The reality of what I was seeing hit me with

physical force–this wasn’t just a display, this was memory made

tangible.

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“You see that cage?” Finn’s voice had changed, becoming raw and

jagged. “Do you want to know how I ended up in one just like it?”

I couldn’t speak. Horror had frozen my vocal cords.

“I was five years old when the fight club owner found me after the car

crash,” he continued, his voice rising. “He saw an opportunity in me-

not as a fighter, but as a prize.”

Finn’s grip on my wrist tightened painfully, but I didn’t pull away.

The pain seemed insignificant compared to what he must have

endured.

“You know what they did to me? Those sick pedophiles would send

their best fighters to compete. The winner got to spend the night

with me.” His voice had become a growl, filled with so much rage I

could feel it radiating from him like heat. “I ate in that cage. I slept in

that cage. For two years, until I fought back and made one of those

bastards lose his ability to ever touch another child again.”

My vision blurred with tears as the full horror of what he was saying

hit me. A five–year–old child, caged like an animal, used as a reward

for fighters. The thought was so monstrous I could barely process it.

The children I worked with had faced difficulties, yes, but nothing

like this systematic destruction of innocence.

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“After that, I begged to fight instead,” Finn continued, his face

contorted with rage. “My first match was against a boy five years

older than me. I broke his jaw in three places.”

I trembled, staring at the horrific replica around us. “Why would you

build this place?” I whispered, my voice shaking. “If you escaped all

this… why surround yourself with it again?”

Finn’s face twisted with self–loathing. “Because I can’t sleep in nice

places,” he snarled. “That’s how fucked up I am! I can only sleep when

I’m surrounded by this!”

Suddenly, Finn spun around and grabbed my throat, shoving me

against the wall.

“You think your psychological tricks for special needs children can fix

me?” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “You think you can heal

this?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. I could only shake my head as tears

streamed down my face, falling onto his hand that gripped my throat.

The moment a teardrop hit his skin, something changed. Finn froze, then abruptly released me, shoving me away. He took several steps back, his breathing heavy.

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“Now you’ve seen it,” he said, his voice suddenly calm and ice–cold.

“Now you know what kind of monster you’re dealing with. You can

leave. Go. I’m a twisted, broken thing, and don’t think for a second

you can save me.”

I coughed, trying to catch my breath, my throat burning. But instead

of running away, I took a step toward him. Then another. I thought of

all the children I’d worked with, how their anger and fear were just

protection for their vulnerable hearts. Finn’s walls were higher, his

wounds deeper, but underneath it all was that same frightened child.

With trembling hands, I reached out and wrapped my arms around his

rigid body.

“None of this was your fault,” I whispered hoarsely. “It was never your

fault.”

Finn stood frozen, his arms suspended in the air, not touching me

back. But he didn’t push me away.

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