The Billionaire Forgot He Hated Me

Chapter 11. One Bed. One Lie. One Heartbreak.

One Bed. One Lie. One Heartbreak.

Claire.

I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at me. My chest felt too full, like it might crack open if I stayed another second. I stood up too fast. The sofa shifted under me.

“I need water,” I said. My voice came out thin. “I think I’m thirsty.”

I almost ran into the kitchen. The cool air hit my face. Mrs. Smith was stirring something on the stove. The smell of garlic and chicken filled the room. The moment I saw her, something inside me broke. I walked straight into her arms and started crying. The kind that made my shoulders shake.

She put the spoon down and held me. Her hand moved slow circles on my back.

“I know,” she said softly. “Tyler called. He told me everything. All of Mr. Cavendish’s staff have been told to play along.”

I pulled back just enough to look at her face. My hands still held her arms. “Really? Tyler called and you agreed too?”

My voice was shaky. “Mrs. Smith, don’t you see this whole thing will fall apart? It’s going to backfire. One day he’ll remember and then what happens to me?”

Mrs. Smith wiped my cheeks with the corner of her apron. The cloth was warm from the kitchen. “Child, listen to me. Sometimes life gives people a second chance when they least expect it. This might be the only one they get. Don’t throw it away just because you’re scared.”

I walked to the counter and gripped the edge. The marble was cold under my fingers. “Victor is so different. He’s soft. He’s kind. He’s everything I used to dream about. But why do I feel so restless? Why does every good moment feel like it’s about to be taken away?”

Mrs. Smith came closer. She smelled like soap and spices. “Because you’ve only known his anger for years. You’re not used to this version of him. Give yourself time. You’re not doing anything wrong by staying. You’re helping him. That’s not a crime.”

I bit the edge of my nail and started pacing. My steps were short and quick on the tiled floor. “He remembered Bonnie as a child. It hurt him so much just looking at her picture. What if he remembers the accident next? What if he looks at me the way he used to?”

My hands wouldn’t stay still. I kept rubbing them together. “I have to tell him the truth. Mrs. Smith, I really have to.”

She shook her head. “And what will that do right now? Confuse him more? Make the headaches worse? The doctor said his mind is protecting him. Forcing the truth could set him back. Let him feel safe with you first. The truth can wait until he’s stronger.”

I stopped walking. “He didn’t actually fire you for good, did he?”

Mrs. Smith gave a small smile. “No. After you left that day, he cooled down. He called me the next morning and said he overreacted. I’ve been here since.”

Relief loosened something in my chest. “I felt so bad. I thought I caused you to lose your job.”

“You didn’t,” she said. “Now stop worrying and help me with this.”

I looked at the pots. Steam rose from the soup. “What are you making for him?”

“Vegetable soup and grilled chicken. Something light.”

I moved closer and lifted the lid. The smell was rich. I tasted a little with a clean spoon. “Add a bit more garlic. And we should buy more foods that help with recovery. Leafy greens. Eggs. Soft fish if he can eat it. His body needs strength if his mind is going to heal.”

I kept talking while I stirred. My hands needed something to do. “I’m scared of him remembering. I am. But I still want him to eat well. He shouldn’t live like this forever, walking around without knowing who he is or what he’s lost. He deserves to get better, even if it means…”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. My throat closed up.

Mrs. Smith was watching me with a small smile.

I stopped stirring. “Why are you smiling?”

She shook her head. “A minute ago you were ready to pack your bags and tell him the truth. Now the conversation turns to what Victor eats and you jump in like nothing else matters. If only he knew what you’ve always been to him. I hope this sickness opens his eyes to the angel God placed in his life.”

I managed a small smile. She squeezed my hand. Her skin was warm. “Everything will work out. Just not overnight.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Then I thought of my dad and the shop. The men who had hurt Victor. What if they went back for him?

I pulled out my phone. My fingers were still trembling when I dialled. “Dad? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Claire. Don’t worry.”

“You’re alone. What if they come back? They hurt Victor. What if they hurt you too?”

“Tyler already filed a complaint. They won’t dare show their faces for a while. Breathe, sweetheart.”

I let out a long breath. “Please eat well.”

“I will. Now go back to Victor. He needs you more than I do right now.”

It felt like he was in a hurry to give me away. I swallowed. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too.”

I ended the call. Mrs. Smith nodded toward the door. “Go. He’s waiting.”

I walked back out slowly.

***

Victor ate later. I sat across from him and watched every spoonful. The clink of the spoon against the bowl was the only sound for a while.

That night I prepared his room carefully. I took down every photo of Bonnie and anything that might pull at his memory. My hands moved quietly. Then I walked him upstairs.

“This is your room,” I said.

He looked around. The bed was large. The curtains were half open. “It’s big.”

“That’s how you wanted it.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and then lay down. I had already made up the guest room for myself. I stood near the door with my hand on the handle.

“Good night,” I said, and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“To sleep in the guest room.”

Victor frowned. He sat up a little. “Why?”

“Because… that’s where I sleep.”

He looked genuinely confused. “You’re my girlfriend. Shouldn’t we sleep together?”

Heat rushed to my face. I had never imagined those words coming from his mouth.

There was no demand in his voice. He just looked at me, almost shy. “I feel calmer when you’re near. Please don’t leave me alone tonight.”

I couldn’t say no to the look in his eyes. “Okay,” I whispered.

We lay on opposite sides of the large bed. The space between us felt wide. The sheets were cool against my arms. Victor’s breathing evened out within minutes. He was exhausted. I stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, my body tense, listening to every sound in the room.

Sometime during the night he rolled closer in his sleep. His arm came around my waist. The weight of it was warm and solid. I froze. Tears slid quietly down the sides of my face and into the pillow. After eight years of loving him in silence, I was finally lying in his arms. And every second of it was built on a lie. It was the happiest and most painful night of my life.

Victor pulled me even closer. His chest pressed against my back. I gasped softly.

His voice was thick with sleep, right against my hair. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight.

He tightened his arm around me and rested his forehead against the back of my head. “Close your eyes. I’m right here.”