BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Ryan’s POV

First, she couldn’t recognize one, and then all of a sudden, she began to splutter out the unbelievable.

It’s been a week already since her accident but she keeps asking me the same question over and over again, infuriating me. It takes a lot of courage not to ask her to shut the fuck up because the question of my paternity pisses me off.

When I got to the hospital, I couldn’t believe she was laying lifeless on the bed. Just the day before, she was full of life as she writhe passionately beneath me.

I was curious to know where she had gone and what happened. When I questioned her mother, she told me Valerie was involved in an accident. Her car was found by the roadside and she was slumped on the wheels with blood oozing out from her head.

She lost a lot of blood before passersby could know that she was there. By the time she got to the hospital, she had almost slipped into consciousness.

A portion of her head was stitched.

Her mom said she was found on the route leading to my office, satisfying my curiosity about where she was going and replacing it with the curiosity of knowing what she was headed there for.

She still has a bandage over her head. The doctor said the bandage will be off once the wound is healed.

Silently sitting beside me with her eyes closed and her head relaxing on the car seat, with folded arms, I look over at her face.

It looks very peaceful.

Even though I am happy to have her back home, I feel sad about the one single question she kept throwing at me.

It makes me so angry. And disappointed. And hurt.

Why will she think so lowly of the mother? Mother loves her.

On second thought, I begin to think that this is not her doing. But the doctor clearly stated that she was ok and she can remember everything that happened.

“Val?” I call instantly, making her flutter her eyes open to meet my gaze. My eyes shift to her bandage and linger there for a while before I summon up the courage to ask her again. “Do you remember it all now?”

She stares at me blankly for a while before nodding with a smile on her face. That sort of smile that gives me away and makes me feel like a fool for not believing her.

“What happened? Where were you going?”

“Ryan”, she pauses and sits upright, dropping her folded arms as she faces me squarely. The car keeps going while we stare at each other. “Will you believe me now?”

We are back to this again.

“I can’t tell you anything until you vow to believe every word I say”, she continues. “You think I don’t know what you’ve been thinking all these while or the sort of look you dart my way?”

“What have I been thinking?” I snort in anger. “When did you become a mind reader? And what sort of look have I been throwing your way?”

I can’t help the anger I feel.

This is about me. This is about my family. How can she just wake up one day to ruin us? If this is true, my Mother would never keep such a big secret away from me.

We might not be on good terms all the time with Father but that is for a reason. I am stubborn just like he is and as my mother would always say, “two bosses can not stay on one boat.”

He is my father. I am sure of it. I don’t even want to think of the resemblance between us.

“You are not ready to listen to me. I’m hungry and sleepy”, she tears her gaze away from me and begins to look out of the window, ignoring me while I watch in disbelief.

“Are you seriously doing this? You won’t answer me, right?”

She does not say a word.

My anger takes over. “If you don’t say a word, give me one single reason why I should believe that rubbish you spilled at the hospital in front of your parents? Do you even know how I felt? Do you know how embarrassed I was? Why would you do such a thing?”

She still does not say anything.

My outburst isn’t having any effect on her. My breathing is becoming heavy as I breathe in and out in frustration.

I haven’t had any good sleep for a week since she had that accident. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about what happened the night before she was involved in that accident. I kept thinking of how she betrayed me by saying that.

It hurts me.

Her mother’s eyes were bulging wide in shock. I was so sure she believed what Valerie was saying but I am sure Valerie isn’t ok yet.

The car drives into the courtyard and the moment it stops, she steps out and begins to take long strides toward the front door, depicting her anger as well.

The angry one should be me, not her. I was the one who was humiliated, not her.

I open the door roughly and race after her without bothering to close the car door.

“Valerie!” I shout after her. She does not stop walking, as the door opens and she goes inside.

I increase my speed and meet her on the staircase. When I grab her hand to turn her around so she could face me, she wrenches her hand from my hold and continues to walk toward our room.

The slamming sound of the door makes me realize I am standing still.

Quickly, I rush to the door and throw it open.

“Val…”

“Shut the fuck up and listen to me carefully”, she attacks me immediately, walking slowly towards me with a pointed finger. “You want to know what happened? Well, you will know everything tonight but before that, if I am to consider what happened, then I won’t be here. I will be far away from you and anyone that relates to you but I am still here with you and you don’t even appreciate that!”

Far away from me? Is Valerie ok? How does her accident relate to me or my family members?

Is that doctor a quack? Should I fix an appointment with my doctor so he can come to check on her to know if she is ok?

With her threatening pointed finger, she gets close and grits her teeth. “That man is not your father!”

“Stop this nonsense right this minute, woman!” I shut her up with an authoritative tone. I have had enough. “I don’t want to hear any more of that rubbish!”

From her looks, she seems taken aback. With her pale face and lips, I feel bad for her all of a sudden. If only she isn’t insisting on knowing what she doesn’t know, this won’t be happening.

“Ryan, I know what I am saying!”

“If you do, then tell me what happened. Where were you going? You had an accident, didn’t you?”

“No, I didn’t. I am not insane, Ryan! Fucking listen to me, will you?”

I nod.

She is not insane. Yes. This is what I am hoping for as well.

What explanation does she have for being unconscious then if it wasn’t an accident? Did she have a dream about my father not being my biological father?

“I got a call from your mom that morning”, she begins and I almost laugh out loud.

Mother was shocked to hear about her accident. She kept calling to ask how she was faring. If truly my mother called her, she would have told me this before now that Valerie is telling me.

About my Mother’s call, I am sure that never happened.

“She sounded sick over the phone and she wanted me to come to see her”, she demonstrates with her hands as she speaks, making me so sure that a lot has changed about her in the space of a week.

She gulps and continues, her chest heaving up and down. “I got there but no one was around, not even the maids. I tried to find her because I was scared something bad had happened.”

She noticed the look of disbelief on my face. “I’m telling you the truth, Ryan.”

I nod, then fold my arms with a serious expression. “Then what happened?”

“I found her. She was in the third room, looking extremely tired and weak. She was coughing and she asked me to get her water which I did”, her hands shake and she closes her eyes, with a wince, as her right hand goes unconsciously to her head.

It doesn’t look like she is in pain right now. It feels like she is in pain trying to remember something.

“That was how it started. I saw the poison in the cup. Then someone hit me hard from behind and I lost consciousness”, she completes.

The word “poison” grabs my attention.

“Poison? Where is that coming from?”

“I don’t know. But I saw it. Someone must have given the poison to her.

I roll my eyes at the statement, suddenly losing interest.

How can she take poison and still be alive?

“You don’t believe me, right?” she questions, her eyes turning watery.

I shake my head and ask. “You said the mansion was empty. How did 10 maids disappear from the mansion when you were around? Was it a coincidence?”

“No, Ryan. It was planned, I’m sure of it…”

“Planned? By whom, if I may ask?” I shift my feet, dropping my folded arms and waiting for her to give me the usual epic replies to every question I ask her.

She always says something shocking and totally out of the world.

“Will you believe me if I tell you who I think it is?” She peers down at me intently.

Her tone almost makes me laugh. She isn’t even sure who it is. This whole story is silly. I shouldn’t be listening to her. She doesn’t know what she is saying.

The mansion is never empty. Mother never stays in the third room. Mother doesn’t cough. She still looks as healthy as a horse. Sometimes, I give myself hope that she won’t die soon. I give myself hope each time I see her that a miracle must have happened and I won’t lose her again.

Father doesn’t let anyone use the third room because that was where they lost their first child. That room is sacred. It reminds both of them of that child.

How does all of this even relate to my paternity?This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

Isn’t this too much?

“Ryan”, she takes a hold of my white shirt and makes me stare straight into her eyes. Her eyeballs are different. They are not as bright as they used to look. They are filled with something I can place.

An emotion related to fear.

What is all of this about?

“Believe me, Ryan. I was never involved in an accident. Someone did that to me. Something planned all of this. He wanted me dead but I survived it. If only he knew I would survive it, he would have done more harm to me and dumped me somewhere else. The whole story of having an accident is fake, this was ….”

“Who is this “he” who had it all planned? And who is this “he” who is my mother’s supposed attempted murderer?” I am tired of listening to her rants already. I want to get this done and go take a hot shower before going to bed.

She drops her hand from my shirt, takes a step backward, and gazes up to meet my eyes.

Slowly, her mouth parts and trembles before she mutters carefully. “Your father. Mr. Lorenzo is the “he”!”

I jerk backward, reeling in complete shock.