The Billionaire

Chapter 6: A Knock At The Door

Elara’s POV

Mornings used to belong to me.

Soft, slow, and silent—exactly the way I liked them. The sun would rise behind the trees, casting gold through the greenhouse glass. The air, thick with dew and the scent of soil and rosemary, felt like a secret only I got to keep. My hands would be buried in the dirt, my thoughts quiet, my heart steady.

Back then, I could pretend the world didn’t exist beyond this estate.

But now?

Now it feels like I’m pretending I don’t exist in it.

Damien changed everything the moment he walked through my door.

I thought I could handle him. File him away as a temporary annoyance. A sharp smile, a sharper tongue—someone I could ignore until he got bored and left.

But he hasn’t left. And I can’t ignore him.

He’s everywhere.

He fills the space with too many questions and not enough answers. He watches me like he already knows the truth I’m trying to bury, like he's just waiting for me to crack. Every glance, every smirk, every step he takes in my direction makes my skin buzz in ways I hate. In ways I can’t afford.

Because I feel it.

The heat that rushes to my cheeks when he gets too close. The stupid flutter in my chest when I catch him looking at me like he sees more than I’m showing. The way I hold my breath without even realizing it, like I’m bracing for impact.

And worse—I don’t think he’s even trying.

So, I’ve been coping the only way I know how.

I vanish before he wakes. Hide in the greenhouse with my plants and the quiet, and try to convince myself I’m in control of something. If my hands are busy, my heart can’t be. If I keep moving, maybe I won’t have to admit that I’ve been running—not from him exactly, but from the way he makes me feel.

Today was supposed to be one of those mornings.

But just as I’m wiping the soil from my fingers, I hear it—a knock.

I freeze.

No one knocks.

Delivery drivers leave things at the gate. Neighbors don’t exist. Strangers don’t make it past the tree line.

My stomach knots.

Another knock, louder this time.

Damien’s nowhere to be found—of course. Probably upstairs doing something dramatic and infuriating, like existing.

I take a breath, roll the tension out of my shoulders, and walk to the front door. The second I open it, I know I’ve made a mistake.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He’s leaning against the porch rail, sunglasses on despite the clouds, wearing a blindingly loud Hawaiian shirt and a grin so wide I can already feel the migraine coming.

“Elara!” he shouts like this is some kind of family reunion. “My favorite little hermit!”

I blink. “Theo?”

He pushes past me like he owns the place and drops his duffel bag onto the floor with a thud. “Wow. No hug? No ‘you look amazing, Theo’? Rude.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“You wound me,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his chest. “I come all this way to see you and this is the welcome I get?”

“You didn’t come to see me. You showed up unannounced after years of vanishing off the face of the earth.”

He shrugs like that’s a minor detail. “Exactly. So I figured it was time for a surprise visit. Reconnect. Remind you I exist.”

Before I can respond—before I can even process why he’s really here—another voice cuts in.

“I’ll tell you why she’s tense.”

Of course.

Damien.

He walks into the room like he belongs in it, which makes me want to throw something. I don’t even have to look to know he’s smirking.

Theo turns, eyebrows lifting. “And who the hell is this?”

“Her housemate,” Damien says casually.

“You are not my housemate,” I snap.

Theo blinks at me. Then at Damien. Then at me again. His face lights up with that all-too-familiar look—glee mixed with chaos.

“Ohhh. Oh, this is delicious.”

“Theo,” I warn.

“Are you seriously living with Mr. Brooding over here?” he asks, ignoring me entirely. “You? Anti-human Elara?”

Damien raises an eyebrow. “She’s been tolerating me. Mostly.”

“Interesting,” Theo says, grinning like the devil. “This has all the makings of a disaster. I love it.”

I shoot him a look that could curdle milk. “Why are you here, Theo?”

His grin falters for half a second. Just long enough to notice. “Because,” he says, voice quieter than before, “someone had to check in on you.”

And just like that, I can’t look at him anymore.

Because Theo’s not just a ghost from my past—he’s the reminder of a life I ran from.

We were inseparable once. The spoiled golden boy and the broken girl next door. I was the storm; he was the wildfire. We tore through our teens like nothing could touch us. But things changed. I changed.

I left him behind for a reason.

And yet… here he is.

In my house. In my quiet little life. Turning everything upside down with just a grin.

I hear the couch creak as he throws himself onto it. “So. Housemate.” He glances at Damien. “You and my best friend screwing, or is she still emotionally constipated and married to solitude?”

I choke. “Theo.”

Damien chuckles. “Solitude has its charms. I’m not opposed.”

I glare at both of them. “I hate you both.”

But they’re already off, trading barbs like they’ve known each other for years.

And despite myself… I smile.

Just a little.

Theo was chaos, but he was mine once. And a part of me—the part I buried—still remembers what it felt like to be seen. To be known without having to explain every cracked piece of myself.

But that part of me also knows better now.

Because if Theo found me, someone else could too.

And they won’t be smiling when they knock.