The wrong billionaire

ChapterTwo

Harper’s POV

The thing about grief was that it demanded to be expressed. And sometimes, spoken about. There were the days of used toilet paper hanging around the house. Days when it was fine not to go to work because the love of your life just died.

Or when people hugged you, allowing your tears to soak through their shirts, just because they know you are going through so much pain.

But once again, it was different for me.

I couldn’t grieve out loud, because no one knew we were together. I went through my day with so much ache in my chest, having to stare at his name on the door, to cry in the bathroom, but ensure I didn’t do it too loudly so they wouldn’t hear.

His body was found at the side of the road, broken and bashed. Barely recognizable. That was what the reporter said on the television, while I sat in front of it, every piece of me broken.

“Hey,” my best friend called softly from the doorway. She was the only one who understood, but there was a limit to how far she could help me. “It’s almost time for the funeral. Are you going to go or…”

I swallowed and leaned back into the couch, closing my eyes. Tears flowed unbridled down my face, but it did nothing to heal the ache in my chest. It dug so deep that sometimes, I found it hard to breathe.

“You know you don’t have to go, right?” Her voice was closer now, and I felt her when the couch dipped with the extra weight. “You can just call in sick or something.”

I shook my head. “The funeral was made compulsory for members of staff,” I croaked. “And people will think it strange that the Executive Assistant of the …. Late…. the late CEO wasn’t in attendance.”

It hurt. God! It hurt so bad.

Cindy pulled me into her arms, patting my back gently. She’d just had coffee. I could smell it on her breath. And it made me cry even harder.

“Let it all out,” she whispered. “Because you can’t do any of this the moment you walk out through these doors.”

And Cindy was right.

***

It rained that day, the soft patters hitting the brown casket as it was lowered to the ground. It scraped the edges of the wall, and the sound travelled through space.

My fingers gripped my umbrella tightly, and despite the weather, I had dark shades on. I held my breath when Ava Monroe let out a sob, the heart-wrenching sound tugging at the layers of my heart.

Everyone understood her. She was Christian’s ex-girlfriend. His parents held on to her, whispering soft words in her ears. While I just stood there, quivering in grief.

And pain.

Loads of it.

When asked to give a eulogy, I was one of them. But as I moved forward, as I turned to face the crowd, I couldn’t say the things I wanted to.

“Mr. Knight was a very nice boss,” I whispered, my tone scratchy. I hoped no one would read meaning into that. I wondered if Christian would want it. “He … he loved every one of us. He would be greatly missed.”

I couldn’t afford to say more. I couldn’t even feel my limbs enough to push myself out, but Marcus walked up to me, taking my hand. I followed him wordlessly out of the grounds and down to the road, where cars were lined up.

“I’m sorry about your loss,” he muttered when he let go of my hands. “But you need to stop now.”

I looked up at him. “What?”

“Christian is dead, and his family must not know that anything happened between you two. So get your s**t together and move on if you don’t want to get sent out of the company.”

If the situation were any different, I would have burst out laughing. I’d imagined that Marcus only spoke to me because he wanted to see how I was doing. But the only thing he cared about was himself.

“I am going to be announced as CEO soon,” he continued, despite the fact that his friend was just being buried. “Don’t cause any noise for me.”

He stalked away then, and I watched helplessly as he joined the rest of the family, who could truly grieve the man I loved.

Turning around, I got into my car and spent the rest of the hours wailing. My phone rang from the passenger seat, but I ignored it, not in the mood to talk to anyone.

The first thing I noticed when I pulled up in front of the apartment was the moving truck parked outside. It looked out of place, with boxes littered all around and a broken chair carelessly tossed out front.

Placing my glasses back on, I grabbed my purse and got out of my car, pushing into my apartment without paying it any attention. Cindy was not home when I returned, which was a great thing because she would probably disagree on what I was about to do.

Dumping my purse on the coffee table, I turned on some music and increased the volume to the loudest, moving into my kitchen to grab a bottle of vodka, a glass, and some ice.

J Cole’s Lost Ones boomed through the building. Christian’s favorite.

Returning to the living room, I lay there on the floor, bringing the glass to my lips as I remembered every minute I spent with Christian Knight.

Just then, a loud rapping sounded from my door. At first, I ignored it, willing whoever it was to just go away. But it wouldn’t stop.

Sighing, I pulled myself to my feet, armed with my half-filled glass of vodka, and walked towards the door. I took a deep breath before twisting the handle and pulling the door open.

And my whole world almost vanished before my eyes.

Because standing right in front of me was Christian Knight.

Only that he was not.

His eyes were empty and dark.