Bittersweet Billionaire

Two

Two Months Later

The night was perfect—too perfect, in hindsight.

Kaelen and I were on our way home from the movies. He had begged to see the new how to train your dragon, and I couldn’t say no. After everything we’d endured, we deserved a night to ourselves. Just the two of us. Laughter. Popcorn. A movie that made his eyes sparkle.

I was behind the wheel—our chauffeur had been otherwise occupied, as usual, chauffeuring my husband and his mistress across the city like some glorified cab driver. I didn’t protest anymore, it was better this way. Driving ourselves made the evening feel more… normal. Almost like we were just an ordinary mother and son, heading home after a simple night out.

A few weeks earlier, I’d bought the car, claiming it would make life easier with Kaelen—less waiting, more independence. Sammual hadn’t even questioned it, so long as my sister had her luxuries, the rest of us could do as we pleased. That suited me just fine. This car would be my escape vehicle. My lifeline. Our way out.

I had been planning our departure in secret for over a month now. Grandma was in on it. She’d been waiting, eager, ready to welcome us with open arms the moment I said the word.

From the front seat, I reached back and squeezed Kaelen’s little hand. He grinned up at me through the rearview mirror, belting out his favorite song—loud, off-key, pure magic. I sang along with him, badly, and for a moment it felt like the universe had finally given me something back.

Tomorrow, we’d be gone. Gone from the city, from Sammual, from all of it. And tonight felt like the perfect goodbye.

If only it had lasted.

A small wrinkle formed between my brows as I glanced in the mirror. The car behind us had taken every turn I had for the last few minutes. Coincidence, I told myself. We were still in the city. Traffic patterns overlapped all the time.

But when I made a sharp left, last-minute, without signaling—they followed. Every move I made, they mirrored.

A tail.

My stomach tightened, my heart began to pound. Sammual and his family were no strangers to threats, but they had an army of security for that. Tonight, Kaelen and I were alone. No driver. No guards. No one but us.

I kept my voice steady, still singing, still laughing along with my son to keep him from noticing the tension vibrating through my frame. I took another turn. Then another. Quick decisions, sharp corners. Traffic blurred by as I tried to remain calm. I considered going to my parents’, but quickly shut the thought down—they’d scold me for putting them at risk before offering help.

So I kept turning. Kept weaving through side streets, obeying every sign but pushing the edge of caution. Kaelen, thankfully, remained blissfully unaware, still wrapped in the safety of our song.

Then, after another erratic loop around a block and a sharp left, I checked the mirror.

They were gone.

I exhaled hard, chest heaving, a shaky breath escaping my lips. My head swam with adrenaline, but relief trickled in. We were safe.

The light ahead turned green. I eased forward through the intersection, trying to calm my racing heart. I looked right out of habit...

Headlights.

A blaring horn.

Screeching brakes.

Shattering glass.

Someone screaming.

Searing pain.

Metal groaning.

Asphalt tearing.

Something twisting.

Everything spinning.

Kaelen.

Chaos.

Darkness...

~*~

A sharp, rhythmic beeping echoed somewhere in the distance, distant and persistent. I floated in a sea of blackness, the weight of it pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I tried to speak, to call out for Kaelan, but no sound came. My throat burned. My lungs ached.

With great effort, my eyes peeled open. Harsh white light assaulted me from the sterile ceiling above. I blinked slowly, vision blurred, lids heavy. Each breath was a labor.

A whimper slipped from my lips as I tried to move, to sit upright. Pain exploded through me—raw and electric—searing every nerve, from the crown of my head to the tips of my fingers and toes. I collapsed back into the bed, sobbing quietly as panic began to rise. My thoughts scrambled for clarity, for memory. I shut my eyes, desperate to pull back the veil.

It had been night. Yes—nighttime. The chauffeur had taken the evening off. I’d insisted it was fine, that I’d drive myself. I had just bought the car a few weeks prior. We were on our way back from the movies, Kaelan laughing in the backseat...

Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, breath catching in my throat.

“Kaelan.” His name tore from me, strangled and raw.

Just then, the door opened. A doctor and nurse stepped in, one of them clutching a clipboard. Behind them came Sammual—my husband—and both of my parents. Relief surged... for only a second. I rasped out Sammual’s name. He didn’t move. He didn’t even look at me.

“Where’s Kaelan?” My voice was barely a whisper, dry and broken. The nurse rushed to my side and offered a cup, tipping the water gently against my lips. I drank a few sips, forcing myself to sit up, every muscle screaming in protest. Pain be damned—I needed answers.

“Where is my son?” I repeated, louder this time, my voice shaking. My gaze swept the room. No one met my eyes.

Not my father.

Not my mother.

Not my husband.

Dread bloomed like icewater in my stomach.

The doctor stepped forward. I turned toward him, searching his face. He had the look of a man used to delivering impossible truths.

'This is just a nightmare,' I thought. 'Wake up.'

My eyes flicked back to Sammual, to the rigid way he stood with his arms crossed, his expression blank. He wouldn’t look at me. Panic surged again, crashing like a wave.

“Where is my son?!” I shrieked, clawing at the bed rails, voice cracking, breath ragged. My whole body trembled as I stared wildly around the room. “Tell me he’s okay. Please, tell me he’s alright—”

But the words never came.

Instead, the doctor’s mouth began to move, his tone low and mournful, but the words were lost to me—drowned beneath a high-pitched ringing that filled my ears. It was as if the world had slipped underwater. The nurse's face swam in my vision, stricken with sympathy as she reached to touch my arm.

And that’s when I realized—

The ringing was my own scream. The blurriness clouding my vision wasn’t from injury—it was the flood of tears running down my face.

“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Welsh,” the doctor’s voice finally cut through, though it sounded distant, mechanical. “We did everything we could... but the injuries were too severe...”

Time splintered. I gasped for air, clutching my stomach as if the grief would spill from me in shards. My scream echoed in the sterile white room. I begged, pleaded, cursed the doctor for lying. For being cruel.

But no one contradicted him. And all the while, Sammual stood by the door, eyes lowered, a grimace on his face like this was all some inconvenience. No tears. No arms reaching for me. No comfort.

Only silence. The world collapsed in on itself as the truth sank in, heavy and final.

My son was gone.

Kaelan was dead.

The Welsh family stared at me with cold, expressionless faces, as if the death of their grandchild was no more significant than losing a distant neighbor. Not one flicker of grief, not one tear. Just silence and indifference.

I curled into myself on the hospital bed, arms wrapped tightly around my stomach as though I could hold myself together, though everything inside me had already crumbled. My world had collapsed, swift and merciless, and all I could do was cling to the pieces and try not to scream again.

Time passed—minutes or hours, I couldn't tell. The world outside the four sterile walls had ceased to exist. At some point, the others must have left. Their absence hung like a shadow in the room, mocking me with its emptiness. Only the nurse from earlier remained. She stayed by my side without a word, her fingers wrapped gently around mine. Occasionally, she checked my vitals, her touch careful, her gaze full of worry as my cries slowly broke down into ragged sobs… and eventually, silence.

But it was the silence that seemed to trouble her most.

After a while, she called the doctor. He entered quietly, examining me with a professional calm, but I saw the flicker of unease behind his eyes. My body was still, unmoving, my eyes unfocused, locked on nothing. When I finally opened my mouth, the words rasped out like dry leaves caught in the wind.

“Can I see my son?”

The question hung between us, fragile and desperate. The doctor glanced at the nurse, uncertain, hesitant. Then he stepped closer, his voice low, like he was afraid the words themselves would break me.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Welsh… but while you were in a coma, your husband authorized the cremation of your son.”

The words struck like a dagger straight through my chest.

My breath hitched. My baby—my beautiful, gentle Kaelan—gone before I’d even had the chance to hold him one last time. No goodbye. No final kiss to his cheek. No whisper of love in his ear. Just... gone.

How could Sammual? How could he strip that from me, too? Wasn’t it enough that my entire world had been ripped away? Wasn’t it enough that I’d woken up to a life without my son? Did he truly hate me so deeply that he wouldn’t even let me mourn?

My hands gripped my stomach tighter, nails digging into my skin. Silent sobs wracked my body, no more tears left to fall, just the hollow, aching sound of a mother’s soul breaking. The last fragile thread of my sanity snapped, unseen and unheard, and I shattered.

Quietly. Completely. Irrevocably.