Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 32

The glass pipe lay between us like an ugly truth neither of us wanted to acknowledge. Edward’s hands trembled as he turned it over, examining the caulidus caked inside. We sat in his living room, surrounded by Peter’s fake medical documents, the silence pressing down on us like a physical weight.

I thought of Finn’s words at the garden that day. Had he known all along? Had he tried to warn me?

Edward finally broke the silence, his voice barely audible. “He doesn’t have money, at least not recently. I’ll watch him closely from now on. If necessary. !

send him to rehab…”

My stomach dropped. The realization of what I’d just done hit me like a freight train. “I just gave him two hundred thousand dollars,” I whispered, my ears

ringing with the horror of it.

Edward’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “Where did you get that kind of money?

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “I… found a way to earn it,” I said vaguely.

He didn’t press for details, just reached across to pat my hand gently. “You didn’t have to do that. Whatever you sacrificed… I know it must have been

significant. This isn’t your fault. I was fooled too. I almost sold this house to give him money.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as the weight of everything crashed down on me. All those nights at Sterling Estate. The humiliation. The connection!

thought I’d formed with Finn. The sex. All of it–for a lie.

“He hasn’t used in a while,” I said suddenly, wiping my eyes. “Getting this much cash at once–he might overdose. He could die.”

I grabbed my phone and dialed Peter’s number. It rang and rang, the hollow sound echoing my mounting panic. No answer. I tried again. And again. Between

calls, I sent frantic text messages:

[Peter, please be careful with that money.]

[Peter, call me back immediately.]

[Peter, don’t use too much at once. It’s dangerous.]

Each unanswered ring made Edward’s face grow paler. My heart pounded against my ribs.

“Maybe we should call hospitals,‘ I suggested, my voice rising with anxiety. “Or the police?/

Edward sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping with a resignation that spoke of years of disappointment. “Dead might be better,” he said, his voice tike

gravel. The words stunned me, revealing a father so deeply hurt by his son that he’d reached the end of hope.

I left Edward’s house an hour later, after making him promise to call if he heard anything. My apartment felt even emptier than before. The bare walls, the

secondhand furniture, the single bed–all of it seemed pathetic compared to the luxury Id briefly touched at Sterling Estate.

I ran my fingers along the scratched surface of my kitchen table, remembering the polished mahogany dining table where Finn and I had eaten. The memory of his gentle touches, the way he’d held me during our last night together, made my chest ache. Had any of it been real? Or was i mat another transaction to him, as he’d been to me in the beginning?

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Chapter 32

That first night in my apartment, I dreamed of Finn. He stood at the entrance of Sterling Estate, holding that ridiculous pink care, his face cold and di as he called me “Miss Lancaster.” I woke up gasping, my pillow damp with tears.

The week that followed was torture. I called Peter’s phone until my battery died. I checked with local hospitals. I even drove past known drug spots, hop and dreading to see him in equal measure. At night, I barely slept, haunted by nightmares of finding Peter dead in some alley, or of Finn’s cold dismissa sometimes both twisted together in horrible ways.

One week after giving Peter the money, I heard a knock at my apartment door. My heart leapt–maybe Peter was okay, maybe he’d gotten help, maybe ti nightmare could still end well.

I yanked the door open to find Peter swaying in the hallway. He looked even worse than before–gaunt, unwashed, his eyes sunken and pupils dilated. B

was alive.

“Peter! I’ve been so worried-”

“Treatment’s going well,” he slurred, pushing past me into the apartment. “But it’s more expensive than we thought. Need another two hundred grand.”

I stared at him, taking in his jittery movements, the way he couldn’t meet my eyes, the sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. He wasn’t eve!

trying to hide it anymore.

“There is no treatment, is there?” I said quietly.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, pacing my small living room. “The specialist in Boston-”

“Stop lying!” I shouted, surprising even myself with the force of my anger. “I saw the pipe, Peter. I checked your medical documents. They’re fake.”

His face twisted, first in shock, then crumpled into a desperate, pleading expression. “Hannah, please… I need this. Without the money, I could die. The withdrawal–it’s killing me.”

His hands shook dramatically as he reached for mine. “You don’t understand what it’s like. The pain is unbearable.”

“Peter, I literally have nothing left,” I said firmly. “I gave you everything I had. And now I know it wasn’t even for medical treatment.”

He fell to his knees, clutching my hands. Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. “This is the last time,/1 promise. I’ll check into rehab right after–a real one. I’v already looked into programs. Please, Hannah. After everything my dad did for you…”

The emotional manipulation was so transparent now that I knew the truth. “I’m sorry, Peter. I can’t help you anymore.”

“Just call that rich guy again! Tell him you need more money for me,” he begged, his voice breaking. “I’ll die without help, Hannah. Is that what you want? To have my death on your conscience?”

“There is no rich uncle, Peter. And I have no way to get more money.”

His face transformed instantly. The tears dried up, and his pleading expression morphed into pure rage. He stood up, towering over me.

“You ungrateful bitch,‘ he snarled, spittle flying from his lips. “My father took you in when you had nothing! Your precious family was gone, and you were just some pathetic orphan with nowhere to go!

I stepped back, shocked by his venom. “Peter, that’s enough-

“We both know you’re sleeping with some rich guy.” His lips curled into a cruel sneer. “That’s what this is about. You re too busy being some millionaire s

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Chapter 32

whore to help the people who saved your

He paced wildly, gesturing with jerky movements. “Without us, you know where you’d be? Some cheap bar serving drinks to anday kim What rich uncle loans money to nobody like you? You’re being kept by him, aren’t you? Go back and give him a few more sises. That’s all would

Each word was a slap. This person–this stranger wearing Peters face–was nothing like the kind boy figure I thought 16 komen.

“Go back to him,” Peter repeated, desperate now. “Sleep with him a few more times. What’s the big deal? You’ve already done it

CRACK!

The sound of my hand hitting his face echoed in my own ears, as if I were the one who had been slapped.

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