FALLING FOR MY SECRET BILLIONAIRE BEST FRIEND

CHAPTER TWO: A STORM BEFORE THE CALM

The next morning, my alarm clock dragged me out of a restless sleep.

The sudden encounter with my ex still lingered in my mind like a bad dream I couldn’t shake off.

I could still hear him calling my name, that voice I swore I’d forgotten.

My head throbbed. Everything felt off-balance; my eyes were blurry, and every step I took felt like walking through fog. I squinted at the clock, trying to focus.

Then my phone rang, it was Josh.

He could always tell when something was wrong, just from my voice. I didn’t even have to say a word.

“Ashley,” he said softly, “I know things are rough, but I promise everything will work out. Just focus on your job...”

Oh my God. My job.

I froze. My first day.

“Bye, Josh,” I said hurriedly and ended the call before panic could swallow me whole.

* * *

Traffic in New York was chaotic. Cars honking, people shouting, and my watch ticking louder than ever, it all blended into one giant noise of frustration.

I had barely thirty minutes left before work started.

Restless and desperate, I made a split-second decision. I paid the driver, jumped out, and took off running through the crowded streets.

Then I felt it, drops on my cheek.

Not tears. Rain.

Within moments, the drizzle turned to heavy rain, soaking me to the skin. I stopped briefly, staring up at the grey sky.

Of course. The universe just had to pick today.

By the time I reached the office, I was drenched, clothes clinging uncomfortably to my body. Still, I exhaled in relief.

Ten minutes early. I’d made it.

That relief vanished the moment I caught my reflection in the glass door: pale skin, trembling hands, bloodshot eyes. I looked awful.

Minutes later, I was called into the manager's office.

And sent home.

Five days’ leave to “recover.”

Guess I looked as miserable as I felt.

* * *

Frustration burned inside me. Why does it always end this way? Why do I always find a way to ruin things just when they’re about to get better?

I wanted to scream. To smash something. To undo the night before.

After he showed up last night, I couldn’t stop shaking… one glass turned into four.

It wasn’t the first time alcohol left me broken.

The first was when I lost him.

And now, again, because of him, I was sitting here, ashamed, defeated, alone.

* * *

By the time I got back to my apartment, the rain had stopped, but the storm inside my head hadn’t.

Hunger gnawed at me, but I couldn’t eat. Sleep refused to come.

Finally, I stumbled toward the kitchen, weak and trembling.

The room tilted, vision blurring, and then everything went dark.

The last thing I heard was the hiss of boiling water… and someone pounding at my door.

My lips tried to form a word, but the darkness swallowed me first.

It was, without a doubt… the worst of the worst.