Billionaire Redemption

Chapter 18

Leon’s POV

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It’s been a week since I opened the fashion hub, six full days of auditions, and honestly, I’ve seen it all. Fake smiles, desperate attempts to seduce me, pretenders who clearly had no skill—I can spot them immediately. Only a handful have any real talent.

Still… I keep thinking about her. The girl who fell that day, the one I saw with Ezran. I’ve been expecting her to walk through the doors all week, and yet, she hasn’t shown up.

I don’t know why her absence bothers me so much, but it does. I wanted to see her here, among all the hopefuls.

I shake it off. I shouldn’t let it get to me. Work comes first.

I retire to my hotel room and slump into the leather chair. I pull out my tablet and begin scrolling through schedules, contracts, emails—keeping myself busy.

But then, a flicker in my peripheral catches my attention. I tap the feed from the small camera I have in my study and secret room, just out of habit.

Someone’s in my study. Trying to get into the secret room. Calm, careful… but they don’t know the cameras are watching.

Chuckling at the person failed attempts, I pick up my phone and dial security in a measured tone. “Check who’s in my study,” I instruct. I know they won’t be able to break in.

I hang up, running a hand through my hair. Who the hell thinks they can just waltz into my private space? Annoying.

I open the urgent emails from my assistant: investors, approvals, contracts. I start working, but I keep glancing at the camera feed.

Someone just tested me. And I never miss.

**

After hours of working, something felt off. A strange, heavy tension that I couldn’t shake had been building in me all morning.

I loosened my shirt, hoping the physical relief would translate to some mental clarity, but it didn’t. The feeling stayed, gnawing at the edges of my focus.

A memory flashed suddenly—just a glimpse—and my fist slammed against the wall. I swore under my breath, the tension coiling tighter in my chest.

I needed water, movement, something. I went straight into the washroom, stepping under the shower with my clothes still on, letting the scalding water hit me. I stayed there for close to an hour, letting the relentless spray pound away at my nerves, but the feeling… it didn’t leave.

The same feeling as that night… the same one that never went away. I knew—somehow—that something was about to happen or was happening already. I just didn’t know what.

Finally, I stepped out of the shower, stripped, and took a quick proper bath, washing away the tension clinging to me. I changed into fresh clothes, grabbed my car keys, and headed out. I left my men behind but instructed a few to follow discreetly, keeping their distance.

I got into my car and drove toward the hub I’d just opened. Everything looked in order, perfectly fine, yet the unease refused to dissipate. My phone rang, breaking the silence. I picked it up, and Ezran’s voice came through.

“What?” I asked sharply.

“I came to your hotel, but you weren’t there. Where are you?”

I sighed, tension leaving my jaw slightly as I replied, “I’m on my way.”

I started to turn my car around to head back, but something made me pause. Instead, I continued down the road leading out of Phoenicia, the city fading behind me.

Memories I’d tried to lock away kept flashing unbidden—faces, places, moments I’d buried. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to push them back.

Then my eyes caught someone limping along the road ahead. A girl. And suddenly, everything clicked. The memories rushed back, clouding my thoughts, and before I fully registered what I was doing, I was upon her. I pressed the horn hard. She turned.

My chest dropped. It was her. The same girl who had fallen the first time I came to Phoenicia.

Before I could even swerve, the car struck her, sending her flying to the side of the road.

I slammed the brakes, heart hammering. The car skidded to a halt.

I jumped out.

And there she was—paled, battered, bleeding.

I scooped her up in my arms, adrenaline surging, and rushed her back into my car. I slammed the door and took off, tires squealing slightly as I sped toward the city, my eyes darting from the road to her, terrified of what might happen next.

I didn’t even realize how fast I’d driven. Less than an hour later, we were at my house—the city lights fading behind me as I skidded into the driveway. It should have taken more than an hour, but I didn’t care. I just wanted her somewhere safe. Somewhere I could control.

I lifted her from the seat and rushed her inside, ignoring the startled looks from the few staff lingering in the halls.

My mind was a storm, but my movements were precise as I carried her straight to the care unit I’d set up in-house. I placed her gently—though my hands shook slightly—on the bed. Her body was bruised, battered… and bleeding. My chest tightened.

“Go get the doctor,” I barked at the nearest maid. She didn’t question me. She just ran.

I paced back and forth, eyes locked on her form. The sight of her helpless, lying there… it clawed at something deep inside me. My fists clenched, my jaw tightened.

Minutes later, the doctor arrived. I didn’t wait for pleasantries. I just watched as he moved to her, checking her vitals, assessing her injuries.

“She’s in bad shape,” he said carefully. “Two open wounds on her head and internal bleeding. She’ll need surgery immediately.”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. “Can… can she be operated on here?”

“Yes,” the doctor replied, calm and confident. “Everything needed for the surgery is available.bShe can be stabilized and operated on immediately.”

I nodded sharply. “Do whatever it takes. Save her. That’s all that matters.”

I pulled out my phone and called. Within ten minutes, a team of medical practitioners arrived, walking into the care unit with professional nods in my direction. I stepped back, giving them space, my hands still trembling, my chest heaving.

I watched them move around her, prepping equipment, coordinating procedures, and my heart hammered in my chest like it had never done before.

It’s been a whole fxcking fifteen years, since I felt this helpless.

And there she was, fragile and broken before me, her life literally in the hands of others.

I didn’t know how to pray. I didn’t know what to do except stand there, pacing, biting back the panic clawing at my mind. All I could do was watch.

Hope. That’s the string here now.

She seemed abused? Or was it the car hitting her that made her this way.

I shrugged off the feeling and went to my room to take a bath. I need something to cool me down.

*

Water ran over me, hot and relentless, but it did nothing to wash away the images flashing in my mind. I was crouched under the bath, letting the liquid cover me, yet the scenes of her,

being hit by my car….and the wound in her body—they wouldn’t leave. I sighed, running a hand over my face, feeling the tension in my shoulders tighten.

I suspected it the moment I saw her. The bruises, the way she limped, the pale shade of her skin, the careful way she dressed—everything pointed to abuse. Tonight confirmed it.

The girl wasn’t fine. She hadn’t been fine ever since… whatever she had been through before tonight. And I could see it all, plain as day.

I needed answers. I wanted her to name them. Just one word, and I would make those people pay. Make every second of their lives miserable for what they did to her.

The water finally stopped, but the heaviness didn’t leave. I stepped out and caught my reflection in the mirror. A little boy hiding in a cabinet, shaking, lost. My mind was a tangle of rage, guilt, and confusion.

The phone rang, cutting through the haze. I checked the caller ID. Ezran. I had meant to call him earlier but… I didn’t.

I answered.

“Leon! Where the hell are you? I’ve been—” His voice scolded me even through the line.

I waited until he landed, then said flatly, “I hit a girl. Had to treat her.”

There was a pause.

Ezran’s voice finally came, strained and confused. “Which… hospital did you take her to?”

“My house.”

Silence.

I exhaled slowly. “If you have nothing else to say, I’ll hang up.”

Ezran tried, hesitated, but I cut the call. I knew why he didn’t say a thing. Shock. Pure shock.

Bringing a girl into my care unit… into my home… it was exactly what he was thinking. But there was no one else I could trust to help her in time.

I checked the time. The night had passed without me noticing. I pulled on fresh clothes, ran a hand through my damp hair, and called for a maid. “Prepare coffee. Bring it to my study.”

As she left, I walked down the hallway, my mind still on her. My heart ached at the thought of the way she must have lived, trapped, beaten, silenced.

I forced myself to clear my head, knowing I needed focus. But my mental note was already set: as soon as I could think straight, I would check on her. I had to. And I had to figure out why… why I’d brought her here instead of a hospital, why I hadn’t stopped thinking about her the moment she’d been placed in my arms.

She was fragile, broken, and yet… somehow, in all of that, I felt the need to protect her more fiercely than anything else in the world.