Betrothed to the Bíllonaire Beast

The day is Wednesday, June 5th. I jolted awake, rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep from them, and froze when I glanced at the clock. 8:15 AM. “Oh my God!” I gasped, throwing off the covers. I was late. My train was scheduled to leave at 9:00, and here I was, still in bed. I scrambled to the bathroom, brushing my teeth while trying to figure out what to wear. After a quick shower, I threw on a simple yellow dress, shoved my files into my bag, and rushed out the door. There was no time for breakfast, not even toast. The streets were as noisy as ever. Everston was always bustling in the mornings. Cars honked at every turn, street vendors called out to advertise, and people hurried along the sidewalks, too busy to notice anyone around them. I flagged down a cab, hopped in, and held my breath as we weaved through the endless traffic. By the time I reached the station, my stomach growled, but there was no time to stop. I managed to grab a quick iced coffee from a stand near the entrance, a little fuel to keep me going. The station was chaotic. Commuters swarmed every corner, some dragging luggage, others balancing cups of coffee and newspapers. I squeezed past the crowd, clutching my bag and my drink, praying I could make it to my platform on time. Then it happened. I tripped. My foot caught on something, and I felt myself falling backwards. My iced coffee flew out of my hand, my papers scattered across the floor, and my bag slipped from my shoulder. I braced for impact, but before I could hit the ground, a strong arm caught me around the waist. I looked up, startled, and my breath caught in my throat. He was much taller than me and broad-shouldered. His black hair was perfectly styled, though a few strands fell over his forehead. His eyes were what held me stormy gray, sharp, and cold. They stared at me with a mix of annoyance and curiosity, like I was an inconvenience but somehow worth a second look. A black mask covered the lower half of his face, hiding his expression, but those eyes said enough. He didn’t look like someone who smiled easily. “Oh no! I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, feeling my cheeks burn. My drink had spilled all over his crisp white shirt, staining it brown. I tried to grab a napkin from my bag, but he stopped me, his hand closing gently but firmly around mine. Without a word, he let go of me, turned around, and walked away. I stood there for a moment, frozen. People were staring now, whispering among themselves. I quickly dropped to my knees, gathering my scattered papers and shoving them back into my bag. My heart was racing, and I wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or… something else. I glanced at the clock. 8:59. “No, no, no!” I ran as fast as I could toward the platform, my bag bouncing against my side. The train was there, but just as I reached it, the doors slid shut. “Wait!” I yelled, waving my hand. But the train started to move. “It’s gone,” I whispered, my voice breaking. I stood there, watching as it disappeared down the tracks, taking my opportunity with it. I wanted to cry, but I was too stunned to do anything at first. That train wasn’t just a ride, it was supposed to take me to the most important job interview of my life. Months of preparation, countless late nights, and this was how it ended? Finally, I dragged myself to one of the benches and sat down, burying my face in my hands. Tears welled up as the disappointment hit me all at once. Today was my twenty-first birthday. This was supposed to be the start of something new, a chance to prove myself. Instead, I’d managed to oversleep, miss my train, and embarrass myself in front of a stranger who looked like he walked out of a movie. After a while, I got up and headed home. The ride back felt like forever. When I got to my apartment, I dropped my bag by the door, kicked off my shoes, and went straight to bed. The tears came easily this time. I hugged my knees to my chest and cried until my pillow was damp. Happy birthday to me, I thought bitterly. I wished I could start the day over, but life doesn’t work that way, does it? The door creaked open, and my mom walked in. “Luna,” she said softly, her voice filled with concern. She didn’t need me to say anything; one look at me slouched on the bed, my face streaked with tears, and she knew I’d missed the train. She wasn’t home last night. She’d gone to visit a sick friend and stayed overnight. Now she was there, carrying a small cake in her hands. She sat beside me, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Come on, tell me what’s wrong,” she urged gently. I tried to speak, but all I could do was sob. Finally, I choked out, “I overslept. I missed the train… my interview…” My voice cracked, the weight of everything crushing me all over again. Mom pulled me into a hug, her warmth soothing some of the ache in my chest. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said. “You came home late yesterday, and you’ve been so stressed lately. It’s no wonder this happened. Don’t worry, there’s always a next time.” She pulled back, holding my face in her hands, her eyes filled with love and understanding. “Now, let’s not let this ruin your special day.” She set the cake down on the table, lit a small candle on top, and turned to me with a soft smile. “Make a wish, my dear.” I closed my eyes, my heart heavy with everything that had gone wrong. At that moment, I wished for one thing: Let this new age be a fairytale, not a nightmare. When I opened my eyes, Mom was smiling. “Happy birthday, Luna,” she said. She was the only family I’d ever known, the one person I could always count on. Her presence alone made everything feel just a little better. Later that evening, as I was getting ready for work, she walked into my room again. This time, her expression was different, serious, almost sad. She was holding a small box in her hands, and my stomach sank. “Luna,” she began, her voice trembling. “Please, forgive me. There’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you, but I was waiting for the right time.” I sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at her. “What is it, Mom?” She handed me the box, her hands shaking. I opened it slowly, finding a letter inside. As I read the words, my heart began to race. “This… this can’t be true,” I said, looking up at her. “This is a birthday prank, right?” Her eyes filled with tears. “No, my dear. It’s true.” I shook my head, the words on the page blurring in my mind. “You’re not my real mother?” I whispered. She nodded, her tears spilling over. “Twenty-one years ago, I came home from work to find you on my doorstep. I lived in a different city then. I asked around, took you to the police station, did everything I could to find out who left you there. But no one came forward. “At first, I took you to an orphanage because… because I never wanted children. But no one adopted you, Luna. Months went by, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were so small, so helpless. I can’t leave you there. So, I took you in and raised you as my own.” I stared at her, my mind spinning. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why wait until now?” “I didn’t want to lose you,” she said, her voice breaking. “I thought I was protecting you. Please, Luna, I love you. You are my daughter, no matter what.” Her words sounded sincere, but I couldn’t process them. My entire life felt like a lie. “I… I need some air,” I muttered, grabbing my bag. “Luna, please,” Mom said, reaching for me, but I was already out the door. It was dark outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin as I ran down the street. The letter was still in my bag, its words replaying in my mind. *I’m not your real mother. I kept running, hoping the motion would clear my thoughts, but nothing helped. I couldn’t outrun the truth. Eventually, I stopped at a bench on the side of the road and sat down, burying my face in my hands. What was I supposed to do now? Go back home and let her finish explaining? Or head to work at the club, pretending like nothing had happened? The disappointment from this morning still clung to me, but now it was overshadowed by something deeper. Who was I? Where did I come from? And why had my real parents abandoned me? The questions spun in my head, relentless and unforgiving. For the first time in my life, I felt completely lost. As I walked down the road, the cool evening air brushed against my skin, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me. My thoughts churned like restless waves, crashing and overlapping, refusing to settle. My mom, Natalia Vargas, was my whole world. I remember her as a young woman, working tirelessly as a receptionist at a hotel,one of the most prestigious places in the city. Back then, she was vibrant and hopeful, though often worn down by the long hours. I was just a child, clinging to her legs as she’d come home, to me, with love, attention and care. Then one day, she quit. I asked her why, but her response was vague. Some things aren’t worth the risk, Luna. Just… be careful of men. After that, she took up a job as a waitress at The Golden Fork, a bustling restaurant known for its elegant charm and packed tables. It wasn’t easy work, but she didn’t complain. Instead, she gave her all, pouring her energy into making ends meet. She put me through school, sacrificing every ounce of her own dreams so I could have a chance at mine. But there were always questions,questions she avoided with a practiced smile. Whenever I asked about my father, her answer was the same: “When the time is right, I’ll tell you everything.”* And now, here I was, with her words from earlier today echoing in my mind. I’m not your real mother.” Why now? Why today? My birthday was supposed to be a day of celebration, not revelations that made my world tilt off its axis. I kept wondering: Why did she hide so much? And what else was she keeping from me? The questions weighed heavy on my chest, a suffocating pressure that made it hard to breathe. The familiar sound of my phone buzzing pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glanced at the screen, it was Mom Her name stared back at me, My fingers hovered over the screen, but I couldn’t bring myself to answer. Was I angry? Hurt? Confused? I didn’t even know. The call ended, but within seconds, it buzzed again. And again. I shoved it into my pocket, but the weight of her persistence lingered.