Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire novel Chapter 55

Heaven or Hell: Loving My Twisted Billionaire

Chapter 55

Hannah’s POV

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My heart hammered wildly against my ribs as conflicting emotions flooded through me–surprise, confusion, and something else I didn’t

want to acknowledge.

Why now? Why this sudden display of… what? Possession? Desire? It couldn’t possibly be affection. Was it because of the velvet box I’d

handed him? The thought seemed ridiculous even as it formed. This was Finn Sterling–heir to a business empire, a man who could buy

anything he wanted.

People probably lined up to present him with gifts far more valuable than my family’s locket case. Rich people, powerful people, beautiful

people–all hoping for just a fraction of his attention. What could my small velvet box possibly mean to him? Nothing.

As his kiss became more insistent, I clutched my family’s locket box tightly between us, a physical barrier that was quickly becoming

inadequate. When I finally gathered my courage, I placed my palm against his chest and gently pushed him away.

“No, Finn…” My voice came out breathy and uncertain.

My hand instinctively moved to rest protectively over my stomach. The baby–our baby–was barely formed, so fragile at this stage. Dr.

Klein had specifically warned about the first trimester being the most delicate period. No matter what agreement we had, I couldn’t risk our child’s health, even if refusing him might reignite his suspicions about me.

His eyes darkened. “I didn’t ask if you wanted to.”

The coldness in his voice sent a chill down my spine. This wasn’t the Finn who had shown glimpses of warmth before his memory loss. This was the man who had survived in the underground fighting circuit–calculating, demanding, and used to taking what he wanted.

I kept my hand firmly on his chest, creating distance between us. “I’m already pregnant,” I said, my voice steadier now. “It’s not even two months along. It could be dangerous.”

A cynical smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Weren’t you the one claiming to like me?” His fingers traced my jawline, not tenderly but possessively. “What’s the matter? Afraid now?”

Despite his intimidating presence, I found the courage to meet his gaze. I kept my hand on his chest, but softened my touch, fingers gently curling into the fabric of his shirt. It was a delicate balance–maintaining distance while trying to establish a connection. My palm rested over his heartbeat, its steady rhythm belying the tension between us.

“If this would truly make you happy, I’d do anything for you,” I said softly, my eyes meeting his despite the fear fluttering in my chest. “But we both know that’s not the case.”

Finn’s eyebrow arched above his dark glasses. “So a special education teacher can read my mind now?”

“It’s not mind–reading,” I replied, my thumbs lightly brushing against the tense muscles of his chest. “You’ve been keeping me at arm’s

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Chapter 55

length since you woke up. You don’t trust me. How can something like this bring you joy when there’s so much suspicion between us?”

His expression remained impassive, but I continued, my voice gentle but firm. “I want you to find someone you genuinely care for, Finn.

Someone who makes you truly happy.”

For a brief moment, something flickered across his face–surprise, perhaps, or confusion at my sincerity. But before he could respond, he

leaned in again, his lips finding mine with renewed determination.

The sudden vibration of his phone interrupted us. Once, twice, three times, four. With a frustrated sigh, Finn finally pulled away and

reached for his phone.

“What, William Sterling?” he spat the name out like it was poison, deliberately omitting any paternal title.

“That Brooklyn property,” came William’s voice, audible enough for me to hear. “I need you to handle it.”

Finn’s jaw clenched. “The last job I did for you should earn me at least six months of rest.”

“I thought you had amnesia,” William’s voice carried a note of suspicion.

Finn’s cold laugh sent shivers down my spine. “I lost my memory, not my intelligence. I’ve reviewed the company’s situation, and I know

exactly why I was severely injured and lost my memory.”

I stared at him, shocked by this revelation. In just a few weeks, Finn had not only familiarized himself with the current state of Sterling

Group but had also pieced together the circumstances surrounding his injuries.

The call ended abruptly, and Finn tossed his phone onto the nightstand. “Not interested anymore,” he stated flatly. “Let’s sleep.”

I nodded and started to move toward the couch across the room, but his hand shot out, grasping my wrist.

“Did I say you could leave?” His voice was low, dangerous.

I turned back to him, confused. “I thought… I assumed you’d prefer if I slept on the couch. You don’t seem to like having me around.”

His lips curved into that familiar mocking smile. “Disliking you doesn’t mean I dislike your body.”

Before I could process his words, he pulled me onto the bed and lay down behind me, his arm wrapping around my waist. I could feel the

solid wall of his chest against my back, his muscles tense like stone. I forced myself to relax, knowing that resistance would only make

things worse.

Gradually, his breathing evened out, becoming deep and rhythmic. Only then did my own body begin to relax, and I drifted into an uneasy

sleep.

I woke to sunlight streaming through the floor–to–ceiling windows and an empty bed. Finn was gone, no trace of him except for the

lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow. I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and looked around the minimalist bedroom,

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Chapter 55

“Finn?” I called out, but only silence answered me.

I made my way through the penthouse, checking each room, but found myself completely alone. When I reached the front door, I

discovered my first problem–the security system required either iris recognition or a security card. Without Finn, I was effectively

trapped.

By noon, my stomach was growling loudly. Despite my hunger, I’d hesitated to thoroughly search through Finn’s kitchen cabinets–my upbringing had taught me not to rummage through other people’s belongings without permission, even in these circumstances.

But as the hunger pangs intensified, I finally decided to venture back to the kitchen to see if there might be something I’d overlooked.

Just as I was about to open the first cabinet, my phone rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

“Security card’s in the refrigerator,” a voice said without preamble. “Take it and leave.” The call ended abruptly before I could respond.

I stared at my phone in disbelief, only then realizing it had been Finn’s voice. No greeting, no explanation–just a cold command delivered with characteristic efficiency.

And the refrigerator? What kind of strange storage habit is that?

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