Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Hannah’s POV

The car drove away from Sterling Estate, leaving me with nothing but the memory of Finn’s cold voice calling me ‘Miss Lancaster and that ridiculous pini cane he’d held like a barrier between us. I stared out the window as the wrought iron gates disappeared from view, trying to swallow the lump in my throa

I’d been a fool. A complete and utter fool.

My apartment building looked even more depressing than I remembered. The cracked concrete steps, the flickering hallway light, the faint smell of someone’s overcooked dinner–all of it stood in harsh contrast to the luxury I’d briefly experienced. I fumbled with my keys, dragging my little suitcase int the tiny studio that suddenly felt suffocating.

After living with Edward for a year, I’d scraped together enough from my teaching salary to rent this place–a tiny step toward independence that had felt like a victory at the time.

I sank onto the edge of my bed and allowed myself exactly three minutes to cry. Just three minutes to mourn whatever I thought had happened between Finn and me. When the timer on my phone buzzed, I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand.

No time for self–pity. I had a promise to keep.

After a quick shower, I headed to Edward’s house. The money had been transferred to my account as promised–all two hundred thousand dollars. At least Victoria Sterling had kept her end of the bargain, even if her grandson had broken something I hadn’t realized was so fragile.

When I arrived, Edward wasn’t home. Peter answered the door, and the sight of him made me pause. He looked terrible–worse than I’d ever seen him. His face was gaunt, his clothes hanging off him, and there was a fresh cut across his cheekbone that hadn’t been there before.

“Hannah!” His smile seemed forced, almost manic. “You’re back!”

‘Peter, what happened to your face?” I reached out instinctively.

He flinched away. “Nothing. Just took a fall.” He tugged his sleeve down, but not before I caught sight of dark bruises and small, round marks that looked disturbingly like needle punctures along the inside of his

arm.

*Your arm-

“Immune system’s shot,” he said quickly. “Side effect of the disease. Bruise easily. Cuts don’t heal right. His fingers drummed restlessly against his thigh, and his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on me for more than a second.

Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

‘I have the money,” I said, pulling out the bank card. “Two hundred thousand. It should cover the initial treatment costs.”

The change in Peter was immediate and unsettling. His entire body straightened, his eyes suddenly sharp and focused. He practically lunged forward, grabbing the card from my hand.

“It’s all there? All of it? Right now?” His voice had a desperate edge that made my skin prickle.

“Yes. A family friend loaned it to me. A rich uncle. All two hundred thousand.”

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Chapter 31

“Perfect!” He was already moving around the room, grabbing a backpack. “I need to leave for Boston today. The specialist I told you about–they’ve got a opening.”

“Today? But you just saw me walk in. Don’t you want to rest? Make proper arrangements?”

“Can’t wait,” he said, stuffing clothes haphazardly into the bag. “The sooner I start treatment, the better my chances.”

His hands shook as he packed, and he kept sniffing and wiping at his nose. I’d worked with enough troubled kids at the center to recognize the signs, ba

brain refused to connect the dots. Not Peter. Not the person I’d sacrificed everything for.

‘Let me help you pack properly,” I offered. ‘We should call Edward, let him know–”

“No!” Peter snapped, then immediately softened his tone. “I mean, I’ll call him from the road. Don’t worry about it.”

Every question I asked was met with a vague answer or quick deflection. Within twenty minutes, he was heading for the door, bank card securely in his

wallet.

‘Peter, I called after him. “When will you be back?”

“Soon,” he said without looking back. “When the first round of treatment’s done.”

After he left, I sat in Edward’s living room, a terrible suspicion growing in my mind. Finn’s warning echoed in my head: “You’re sure he’s worth your

sacrifice? Some people aren’t who you think they are.”

I pulled out the medical files Peter had shown me months ago–the ones that had convinced me to accept Victoria Sterling’s offer in the first place. With a growing sense of unease, I began to examine them more carefully.

The hospital letterhead looked legitimate, but the font was slightly different from section to section. The diagnosis was vague, with technical terms that seemed designed to confuse rather than inform. And the recommended treatment plan listed medications with dosages that didn’t make sense together.

I opened my laptop and began searching for information about the disease Peter supposedly had. The more I read, the more discrepancies 1 found. The symptoms didn’t match what Peter had been showing. The treatment protocol was entirely different from what his papers described.

I found the website for Boston Medical Center and compared their official letterhead with Peter’s documents. The differences were subtle but unmistakable.

My phone pinged with a notification from my bank. The entire two hundred thousand dollars had been withdrawn in cash.

The front door opened, and Edward walked in, looking tired from his day at the community center.

“Hannah,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were back. Where’s Peter? I saw his room was a mess.”

With a heavy heart, I showed Edward what I’d found. He listened silently, his face growing more pained with each detail.

I’ve noticed things, he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Money missing from my wallet. Strange phone calls in the middle of the night. Times when he disappears for days with no explanation. He pressed his palms against his eyes. “I didn’t want to believe it. I still don’t.”

Tm so sorry, Edward.” I reached for his hand.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my fingers. “Whatever he’s done, whatever he’s taken from you–it’s my responsibility.”

I shook my head, still unwilling to accept the worst. “We don’t know for sure, Edward. Maybe he needed the money for something else, something he was too

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Chapter 31

ashamed to tell us about.”

The words sounded hollow even to my own ears, but I pressed on ‘And if that, the best that’s goods, dighe doesn’t actually have a terminal illness.”

Edward nodded weakly, attempting a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He slanged dve into the chair bede eers bed, his dades d weight of realization. As he shifted his weight, his legs straightened reflexiwly, kuking something beneath the bed.

The sound of glass objects clinking together froze us both.

Our eyes met in a moment of shared dread before we both looked toward the source of the noise. Wwed sofy beat down and worked under for bed, pulling out what I desperately wished wasn’t there.

A glass pipe, knocked onto its side among scattered lighters and a small alcoded lamp.

My heart plummeted to the floor.

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