Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 18

Outside my door, her voice seeped in like a persistent stream, impossible to dam. I tried to ignore her, even covered my ears with a pillow, but somehow her words found cracks to slip through.

“…then James told me if I didn’t stop bothering him, he’d throw all

my dolls into the pond. But I knew he wouldn’t really do it. He just acted tough when really he was so gentle inside…”

There was exhaustion in her voice. I found myself unwillingly imagining her curled up against the cold door frame, her slender body shivering slightly. The image refused to leave my mind.

“Shut up,” I muttered, too quietly to penetrate the heavy wooden

door.

Her rambling stories continued for hours. I sat there, my anger gradually replaced by an odd curiosity. Then suddenly, her voice changed. No longer speaking, but singing softly – a lullaby.

“The stars will always find you, no matter how dark the night…”

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The melody was strangely familiar, like a fragment floating up from

deep buried memories. My breath caught. I saw a blurry image, warm

hands stroking my forehead, a gentle voice singing in my ear. My

mother? Or just a comforting fantasy?

I told myself I should open the door and send her away. But somehow,

my body remained motionless. The song continued, wrapping around

me like silk threads, pulling me into a peaceful darkness.

I jerked awake, heart pounding. Sunlight filtered through the

curtains, warming my face. My fingers traced the sheets, feeling the

sun–warmed fabric. Shock gradually registered – I had slept on a

regular bed for an entire night, not beside the iron cage in my secret

room.

I reached over and pressed the button on my specially designed clock.

“Seven sixteen AM,” it announced in its flat electronic voice.

For the first time in ten years, I had slept peacefully on a soft

mattress, without nightmares, without waking up screaming. The

hallway outside was eerily quiet. I let out a cold laugh. “Of course.

Who would actually stay outside a door all night?”

But behind those words lurked a hint of disappointment I wouldn’t

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even admit to myself.

I finished washing up and changed into black casual clothes,

determined to go to the dining room alone. I walked toward the door

and pulled it open.

The moment the door swung wide, a warm body unexpectedly crashed

onto my feet. I reflexively stepped back, fists clenching, then

recognized the familiar scent of shampoo and soft hair–Hannah.

She had actually stayed. The entire night.

That realization made my defenses momentarily slip, an inexplicable

warmth rising in my chest. Immediately, I cautiously rebuilt my walls,

my expression returning to coldness.

“Mmm…ah!” Hannah jolted awake, panic flooding her sleepy voice.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to–I was just so tired–I’m

really sorry!”

Her apologies spilled out like rapid gunfire until I felt irritated.

“Enough,” I cut her off. “Get out of my way. You’re blocking me.”

Hannah paused for a moment, then said stubbornly. If you forgive me, you should say ‘it’s okay.“”

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I was taken aback. “Are you serious right now?”

Hannah’s voice suddenly brightened. “It’s fine if you don’t. You have a

bad temper, but I forgive you for that.”

My expression darkened. Seriously? Now I’m the one being forgiven?

“Are you heading to the dining room?” Despite her evident tiredness, Hannah’s voice was full of energy. “We could have breakfast together.”

I turned away coldly. “Not necessary.”

“Please?” Hannah unexpectedly grabbed my sleeve and shook it, her tone taking on a wheedling quality. “Eat with me. It’s too lonely by myself. Amy never agrees to sit at the table with me.”

I could feel her hand was cold. I remembered she’d spent the night on

the hard floor, and a flash of guilt crossed my mind. But outwardly, I

remained distant, pulling my sleeve free. “Fine.”

“You agreed?” Hannah’s voice immediately brightened.

I reluctantly grunted in response, hearing her cheer. “Yay, the handsome guy is having breakfast with me! I’ll go freshen up first!”

Her hurried footsteps were full of excitement. I stood in place, the

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corner of my mouth involuntarily turning up slightly. I quickly

composed my expression back to indifference.

In the dining room, I sat at the table, listening to Hannah’s constant

chatter. She seemed to have endless topics. the children at the special

education center, weather, her favorite coffee flavors.

I could distinguish her every movement. the sound of her cutting

food, satisfied sighs as she chewed, the subtle sound of her throat as

she swallowed. I occasionally gave brief responses, mostly remaining

silent, yet found myself attentively listening to her voice.

I felt a strange comfort spreading in my chest. The feeling was both foreign and alarming, but I found myself unable to resist its warmth.

After the meal, Hannah naturally walked to my side, her arm gently

touching my elbow to guide me. I felt the temperature of her

fingertips, experiencing an inexplicable sense of security.

Just then, Jack approached. “Sir, the item you requested is ready.”

I heard the sound of something being handed over. Suddenly,

Hannah’s hand left my elbow, and I felt an odd sense of loss.

“What’s this?” Hannah’s voice was full of surprise. “You finally agreed

to use a cane?”

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I could feel the genuine joy in her voice, as if this were some major

breakthrough. I felt embarrassed that she had witnessed this

weakness.

“It’s a high–quality cane prepared according to your instructions, sir,” Jack explained. “Carbon fiber, lightweight but durable.”

My expression turned displeased, but I couldn’t snap at Jack–after

all, I had given the order myself last night. I heard Hannah take the

cane, then felt her place it in my hand.

“Try it,” she encouraged, her voice full of expectation. “It will make it

easier for you to move around in unfamiliar environments.”

I gripped the cane, feeling its weight and texture. Wanting Hannah’s

touch back, I coldly asked. “What color is it?”

“It’s black, sir,” Jack answered. “It doesn’t look like a traditional white

cane, more like a fashionable walking stick.”

My tone hardened. “I don’t like this color. Get me a different one.”

I could sense Hannah and Jack’s confusion, but I didn’t care. I needed

an excuse, a reason for Hannah’s hand to return to my arm.

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Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire

Chapter 19