The Cold Billionaire's Unexpected Love

Chapter 4

Selena’s POV

“How could you do this to me?” I asked, disbelief painting every inch of my face.

I have just returned home after crying my heart out in that confined changing room where the man with gray eyes had left me.

Becca, my so-called adoptive mother, scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Don’t you look at me like that, girl. And what’s wrong with what I did?” Her voice was sharp, her expression devoid of guilt.

My hazel eyes, which have turned bloodshot red from the endless crying, narrowed at the woman standing in front of me. I had endured years of mistreatment at Becca’s hands, but nothing—nothing—had prepared me for what she did today.

“You did nothing wrong?” I repeated, my voice rising with fury. “How could you say that after you literally sold me to a stranger for a mere fifty thousand dollars?” The words felt like poison on my tongue.

The memories of the evening crashed into me like a violent storm. Becca had called me this afternoon, speaking in unusually sweet tone.

She had told me that there is a job opportunity. One of her friends told het that a businessman wanted to hire a secretary immediately.

Knowing that some of Becca’s friends with whom she gambles usually, come from comparatively rich families, I didn’t doubt anything.

But when Becca sent the address and I saw that it was an address of a five star hotel, I hesitated.

‘Who conducts job interviews in the five star hotel?’

But because the person who sent the address to me was a woman who was supposed to be my mother, I trusted her when she said that it was a legit company and there was nothing wrong with this opportunity.

I believed her words and went there for interview, only to find out that this woman had made a deal with some rich brat, to sell me for one night.

I was beyond surprise. I was heartbroken.

It’s not like me and Becca were ever on good terms, or I trusted everything that came out of her mouth wholeheartedly. But still never in my wildest dreams I thought she would do something so horrible with me.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Selena,” Becca snapped. “I’ve raised you since you were thirteen. I fed you, clothed you, and paid for your education. I have every right to do what I want with you. Plus, I needed that money urgently.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “A right?” I spat. “You think that gives you the right to sell me like I’m some disposable object? You said you needed money. For what, exactly? Gambling? Or to buy some stupid dresses for your daughter, Stacey?”

Becca rolled her eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“Yes, it is my business. Because it’s my dignity and life that you put on the line today!” I snapped, stepping closer.

“Have you thought, if I hadn’t escaped, what could’ve happened to me? That man could’ve done anything. And when he was done, he could’ve killed me and dumped my body somewhere. Would you have cared then?”

My body still trembled from the fear of what could have happened.

Becca’s face lost a fraction of its arrogance. “No… he wouldn’t have kill—”

“How do you know that?” I cut her off, eyes blazing. “Do you even know that person’s name? Have you seen him with your own eyes? What do you know about him to be sure that he wouldn’t have gotten rid of me after having his way with me? Did you think about anything other than the money?”

Silence.

For the first time, Becca had nothing to say. Maybe she hadn’t thought that far. Maybe she didn’t even care.

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Listen to me carefully, Becca. Don’t you dare try anything like this ever again.” my voice was deathly calm now, laced with a warning.

“And don’t forget—I’m the only one in this house earning money. The amount you spent on me these past ten years? I’ve repaid it all with the jobs I took when I was still in high school, and I’m still the only one feeding you and your useless daughter.”

Becca’s lips parted, but I didn’t give her the chance to speak.

“If I leave, who’s going to pay for your little luxuries? Who’s going to put food on your table? Think about that before you try selling me again.”

With this I turned on my heel, walking toward the stairs. But just before disappearing into the hallway, I paused, glancing back over my shoulder.

“And don’t forget, the only reason why I am still in this house is Dad.” my voice softened slightly at the mention of him.

My adoptive father, Morgan Hart has been battling Alzheimer’s for the past five years. His condition isn’t severe yet but it has worsened over time, something I blame myself for. When he was first diagnosed, I was eighteen.

Back then, his symptoms were mild, and the doctors assured us that with proper care, his condition could be managed, we could slow down the progression of the disease.

But that was also the time I was planning to move out of this house. I had endured years of mistreatment and bullying from Becca and Stacey, and I was exhausted.

Stacey, despite being two years older than me, never lifted a finger to help, instead wasted away the money I earned. Becca was no better, always out gambling, leaving me to shoulder both financial burden as my Dad couldn’t work anymore because of his health, and household responsibilities.

When I found out about father’s illness, I hesitated. For a moment, I considered staying to take care of him. But in the end I couldn’t stay. I was just too drained to endure their harsh treatment.

I convinced myself that Becca, his wife, would step up to take care of him, that Stacey would feel some sense of responsibility when I wasn’t around to clean up their mess. But I was wrong.

But without me, the house became a war zone. Becca and Stacey constantly fought about money, about chores, about who would take care of Dad. But no one actually took care of him.

His condition which could have been managed, deteriorated. Then the worst happened.

One night, he walked out of the house and forgot the way back home.

I still remember the panic that gripped me when I received a call from our neighbours, informing me of his disappearance. I had blocked Becca and Stacey’s numbers to keep them from pestering me, so I hadn’t even known what was happening.

I had instantly called on his mobile phone, which was always kept on him. The same one, on which I called him everyday after I had left the house.

But the phone wasn’t answered by him but a doctor. He informed me that my father was taken to hospital after he got into a minor accident.

I couldn’t help but blame myself for leaving him there alone. I blamed myself for his worsened condition, for being so selfish.

I had no choice but to move back in. But this time I made one thing clear. If Becca and Stacey try to make my life miserable again, I would leave, and this time I would take father with me.

I knew it was an empty threat. It wouldn’t be easy to take him away from his legal family. But I was ready to fight if I had to.

Surprisingly, Becca agreed. And though her cruelty didn’t stop completely, she toned it down significantly.

That is until last night, when she proved once again just how headless she could be.

Coming out of my thoughts, I turned completely to face her and continued,

“If he wasn’t sick, or if you cared enough to take care of him, I would’ve left long ago and never returned. So stop testing my patience, Becca. I am warning you for the first and the last time, if you try something like this again, I will file a complaint against you and make sure you rot in jail for the rest of your life.”

Without another word, I climbed the stairs, and dragged my tired body to my room.

***

“Don’t... Don’t touch me…no!... NO!...”

I woke up with a jerk, my breath coming in short, frantic gasps. My heart pounded in my ribs as I looked around frantically.

I sighed in relief when I found myself sitting in my room, on my bed. I ran a trembling hand over my face.

‘It was just a dream.’

But the fear still lingered deep in my heart, refusing to fade.

I could still feel it—the suffocating darkness of that hotel room, the weight of the unknown man’s presence pressing against my skin. His voice, deep and unreadable, still echoed in my ears.

I never saw his face. The lights in that hotel room were turned off, making it impossible to see anything.

The only thing I remembered clearly was the cold, calculating face of his bodyguard, the one who had chased me when I ran for my life.

‘Who was he? And what would have happened if I hadn’t escaped?’

I clenched my fists, forcing the thoughts away.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing, making me jump. I turned my head toward the wall clock to find it’s just five thirty in the morning.

‘Who would be calling this early?’

I picked up the phone from nightstand, my brows furrowing as I saw the caller ID. Sister Agnes.

I instantly swiped the green icon.

“Hello, Sister Agnes? Is everything okay at the orphanage?” I asked, already feeling a sense of unease creeping up my spine.

I have been working at ‘The Caring Nest’ for the past five years, the same orphanage where I had once lived before my Dad Morgan Hart adopted me.

I started working there when I was just eighteen years old. And in these past five years Sister Agnes never called me this early. Something was definitely wrong.

The moment I heard her trembling voice, I knew my doubt was right.

“Selena… it’s Sophie… she…” Agnes’s voice broke into sobs.

I shot up from the bed, my entire body tensing. Panic gripped my chest like a vice.

“What about her, Sister? Is she alright?” I asked, my voice laced with concern as I rushed toward the bathroom.

Agnes sniffled, struggling to get the words out. “She fainted this morning… and the doctor… he said that she… she’s been diagnosed with leukemia.”

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The air in my lungs felt too thick, too heavy. My fingers gripped the doorframe for support as the weight of the words settled over me like a crushing burden.

Leukemia.

Sophie was only seven. A bright, kind-hearted little girl who loved to braid my hair. A girl who wanted to grow up fast and become a doctor. She was too young. Too innocent.

Tears burned the back of my eyes, but I forced myself to hold them in.

“Selena… are you there, my child?” Sister Agnes’s gentle voice pulled me back.

I sucked in a sharp breath, trying to steady my voice. “I… I’m here, Sister. I’m okay.” That was a lie—I was anything but okay.

“Where are you right now? Which hospital?”

“City Hospital,” Agnes replied.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Don’t worry, okay?”

I ended the call and rushed to get ready.

***

I stepped out of Sophie’s hospital room after excusing myself. My chest felt tight, my thoughts tangled in a mess of worry and helplessness.

'How are we going to arrange such a huge amount for the treatment?' the question kept repeating in my mind.

I needed air. I needed to think.

Sister Agnes had assured me that she would try to arrange the money, that she would reach out to cancer foundations for support. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. The cost of treatment was enormous, and the chances of getting enough aid in time were slim.

Sophie was just a child. She hadn’t even seen the world yet, and here she was—trapped in a hospital bed, battling a disease she didn’t deserve.

I bit my lip, my fists clenching as I walked down the hallway. I have to do something. I can’t just sit and watch.

“Selena.”

A familiar voice called my name from across the hospital lobby.

I turned, startled, and saw a woman in her late twenties walking toward me, her face lighting up with recognition.

“I was right! It’s really you,” she said, her smile widening.

“Mrs. Miller,” I greeted politely.

She huffed, placing a hand on her hip. “You’re still calling me that? I told you to call me Stella, didn’t I?” she said with a playful glare.

I let out a small smile—though it barely reached my eyes. “Oh, I am sorry. I will call you Stella from now on, without forgetting. So… are you here for a check-up?” I asked.

Stella nodded but then paused, taking in my face. “What’s wrong? You look exhausted and also concerned about something. Is everything okay?” she asked, concern softening her features.

I hesitated before shaking my head. “It’s nothing. There’s a little girl at the orphanage where I work. She suddenly got sick. That’s why I’m here.”

“Oh! So, how is she now? Do you need my help with anything?” Stella offered sincerely.

I shook my head again, appreciating the kindness in her voice. “She’s stable for now, Stella. But thank you.”

Stella reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. “Please, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate, okay? You helped me when I needed it most, and I’ll never forget that.”

A small wave of warmth spread through me at her words.

I had met Stella two months ago. She had been in a severe car accident on a mostly deserted street. I was the one who called for help and stayed with her until the ambulance arrived.

Her injuries had been critical, and when the hospital ran short on A-negative blood, I donated mine. Luckily, our blood groups are same. I stayed by her side through her surgery, as her family members were out of country. I even visited her few times after she gained her consciousness and this is how we became friends.

“It’s really alright, Stella,” I reassured her.

“I am not talking only about now, but also in the future, I really mean it. If you ever need help, talk to me. I would be honored to help my friend, who saved my life. I hope you consider me a friend, Selena.”

I smiled, this time more genuinely. “Of course I do, Stella. And yes, I’ll remember your words.”

Her smile widened. “Good! Oh, I almost forgot—I want to introduce you to my husband. He really wanted to meet you after hearing about what you did for me.”

I chuckled lightly at her excitement. “Okay.”

Stella glanced behind me and brightened. “Here he is!”

I could only turn halfway, when a familiar scent invaded my senses. I froze.

My stomach twisted. That scent… very unique, distinct… it was the same one from last night.

Dread crawled up my spine, a suffocating weight settling in my chest.

“Selena, meet my husband, Mathew. Mathew, this is my friend Selena,” Stella introduced.

Slowly, I forced myself to turn the rest of the way, my gaze locking onto the man standing in front of me.

My breath hitched.

My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach, when my eyes fell on the bandage wrapped around an injury on his forehead.

An injury at the exact same spot where I had struck my tormentor last night.

I swallowed hard, my throat running dry.

Is he the same person?