The Billionaire Who Hated My Family

Chapter 1: They say the people who change your life never knock. They crash into it. Sometimes with a smile. Sometimes with a lie. And sometimes... ...With blood on their hands. When I met Lucien Devereaux, I thought he was just another arrogant rich man. I didn't know his family had spent fifteen years praying mine would disappear. I didn't know my father whispered his surname in nightmares. Most of all... I didn't know that loving him would cost us everything. --- The shrill alarm rang at exactly five-thirty in the morning. I silenced it before it could wake my father. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the cracked ceiling above my tiny apartment. Water stains spread across the paint like faded maps, reminders that the Landlord had promised to fix the leaking roof months ago. Promises were cheap. Rent wasn't. I pushed the thin blanket aside and slipped my feet onto the cold floor. "Dad?" I called softly. A weak cough answered from the next room. "I'm awake." Relief washed over me. Every morning began with the same fear. Would he still be breathing? Would today be another hospital day? Or would life, just for once, give us a break? I entered his room carrying a smile I didn't feel. My father sat on the edge of the bed, struggling to button his shirt. The illness had stolen so much from him. Once broad-shouldered and energetic, he was now painfully thin, his hands trembling from the medication. "Morning, sunshine," he said, forcing a grin. "You're supposed to let me help." "And let my daughter think I'm an old man?" "You are an old man." He laughed, and for a few precious seconds, the room felt warm again. I finished buttoning his shirt before handing him his pills and a glass of water. "Did you sleep?" "A little." He avoided my eyes. That meant no. "You were coughing again." "It's nothing." "Dad..." "I'm fine." The lie hung between us. We both knew it. The doctor had warned us weeks ago that delaying treatment wasn't an option anymore. But treatment required money. Money we didn't have. I worked mornings at a café. Afternoons at the university. Evenings tutoring children. Still... The hospital bills kept growing. Sometimes I wondered if life was simply waiting for me to give up. Too bad. I wasn't planning to. --- The city was already alive when I stepped outside. Street vendors shouted over one another. Motorcycles weaved through traffic. The smell of roasted corn mixed with fresh rain lingering from the night before. I tightened my grip on my backpack and checked my phone. Three missed calls. One voicemail. My heart sank. It was the hospital. Again. I couldn't listen. Not yet. If they were asking for another payment, there was nothing I could do before my shift ended. I slipped the phone back into my pocket and hurried toward the café. "Late again, Hart." Mrs. Greene folded her arms as I entered through the staff entrance. Her silver hair was pulled into its usual tight bun, and disappointment seemed permanently written across her face. "I'm sorry." "You've been saying that every week." "I know." She sighed. "I like you, Ariana. Customers like you too. But this isn't charity." "I understand." She handed me my apron. "One more mistake, and I'll have to replace you." "I won't disappoint you." "I hope not." --- The morning rush arrived like a storm. Coffee machines hissed. Orders piled up. Customers complained. Children cried. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, I forgot about unpaid bills and hospital calls. Until my phone vibrated again. Hospital. Ignoring it felt like swallowing glass. I shoved the phone deeper into my pocket and kept smiling. "Large cappuccino." "Coming right up." "Extra caramel." "Of course." "No whipped cream." "Got it." My smile never faltered. Inside... I was falling apart. --- By noon, the café finally emptied. I leaned against the counter, exhausted. Mrs. Greene approached me. "You should eat." "I'm not hungry." "That's exactly why you should." She placed half a sandwich in front of me. "I can't accept this." "It's yesterday's bread." "It still looks fresh." She smirked. "It is." For the first time that day... I laughed. Maybe kindness still existed after all. Then the café television changed to a breaking business report. Every employee stopped moving. "Today, billionaire entrepreneur Lucien Devereaux returned from Europe to finalize the largest corporate merger in the country's history..." The camera flashed to a convoy of black luxury vehicles. Then— Him. Tall. Impossibly handsome. Sharp features. Dark eyes that looked carved from ice. The reporter continued speaking, but I barely heard a word. The man on the screen didn't smile. He didn't wave. He simply walked forward as if the world existed to move out of his way. Someone behind me sighed dreamily. "He's gorgeous." Another employee laughed. "They say he's richer than half the politicians." Mrs. Greene rolled her eyes. "Money can't buy kindness." I looked at the screen one last time. For reasons I couldn't explain... His expression unsettled me. He looked like a man carrying ghosts. The television switched back to the news. I threw my cup into the trash. "Time for deliveries," Mrs. Greene called. I grabbed the paper bag she handed me. "Just one?" "The customer insisted it arrive personally." "Who is it?" She glanced at the receipt. Her eyebrows lifted slightly. "The Devereaux Group headquarters." I frowned. "The billionaire?" She shrugged. "Looks like your lucky day." I had no idea... ...it was the beginning of the worst day of my life.