Billionaire Redemption

Chapter 19

Leon’s POV

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The cursor blinked on my screen, but I wasn’t really reading the data in front of me. My fingers moved anyway, replying to a board member’s question in the group chat. Numbers. Projections. All noise.

My phone buzzed.

Phoenicia.

I swiped to answer. “Yes?”

“Sir, we’ve selected a hundred ladies so far,” the voice from my fashion hub reported, a bit too excited for this hour.

A hundred already? I sighed. “Continue with the auditions. I’ll come overlook things myself later.”

“Alright, sir.”

I hung up and let the phone drop beside my tablet with a dull thud. My eyes shut for a brief second. The tension in my shoulders wouldn’t ease, not even for a minute.

Three months.

It’s been three months since the doctor’s words wrecked my entire sense of peace.

“She suffered from abuse where she lived… she’s stable now, but it’s a 50-50 chance she’ll wake up. Normally, it should be a hundred percent — but she doesn’t want to live. She’s fighting the drugs.”

I rubbed my temple slowly, trying to keep the wave of guilt and helplessness at bay.

“Mr. Leon?”

The sharp voice from my laptop snapped me back. Right — conference call.

I mumbled, “Give me a break,” then reached forward and shut the laptop.

My phone rang again. Seeing Ezran's name, I sighed and picked up. His scolding voice blasted through, “Been three fxcking months since you said you'd come to Phoenicia to see things yourself. What the fxck happened?” I sighed deeply, then cut the call.

Almost immediately, the phone rang again. I let out a frustrated sigh before checking the caller. It was Ezran again. I hissed under my breath, “Don’t be so jobless to disturb me with your calls,” and cut it.

Just then, a woman walked in wearing only lingerie—her breasts exposed, with just enough fabric to cover her. I stared blankly, instantly recognizing her as one of the maids working for me.

She walked closer, her hand sliding over my chest. “You like what you see?” she purred, rubbing against me.

I stood up, towering over her, feeling the urge to hit her for a second. But instead, I grabbed the house phone beside me and said sharply, “Come take out a lunatic slut from my study.”

I sat back down, opened my tablet, and started scrolling, my mind only half on it. Then she placed her hand on my thigh, her voice dripping with seduction, “Don’t you really feel hard?”

I gave her a cold look, and she immediately pulled back, fear flashing in her eyes. Just then, two guards walked in. They stopped, eyes running over her from head to toe, their hands twitching near their chests as they swallowed hard.

Ohh you’re so done form this work!

The moment the lady turned to face the guards, a slow, confident smirk spread across her lips.

My brow shot up, my eyes locking onto the two men standing stiffly behind me. I said it coldly, with no room for argument: “You’re fired. Get out.”

She glanced back at me, amused, almost daring me with that look. But I sat down again, folding my arms, my scowl deepening. The guards exchanged uneasy glances but didn’t argue.

They grabbed her roughly by the arms and began dragging her out, her protests falling on deaf ears. She pleaded, but I didn’t spare her—or them—so much as a second look.

The room suddenly felt heavier, tension hanging thick. Just then, a maid burst in, breathless and urgent. “She’s awake, sir!”

I didn’t hesitate. I sprang to my feet and hurried down the hall toward the room she indicated. As I approached, a doctor passed me quickly, nodding in my direction. “She’s awake and medically stable. I’ve administered her medication, and I explained to the maid how to manage it.”

I paused, swallowing hard. “Is she really okay?” I asked, voice tight.

The doctor looked me straight in the eye. “Physically, yes. But she’ll need rest, and—if possible—a therapist. The trauma she endured left scars deeper than we can treat with medicine alone. Her brain’s slow to respond, and now that she’s awake, she might act unpredictably.”

I gave the doctor a curt nod, the weight of the situation sinking in. I opened the door quietly and stood there, watching her. She hadn’t noticed me yet, her eyes vacant, lost in some distant thought.

Finally, I broke the silence. “Took you long enough to wake up from being a lazy witch.”

Her eyes snapped to me, confusion knitting her brows together. Then suddenly, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as recognition dawned.

She stared at me, blinking rapidly, caught between surprise and something I couldn’t quite place—fear? Relief?

I stayed still, watching her closely, waiting for whatever came next.

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Ayra's POV

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Darkness again.

The same thick, cruel blackness that wrapped around me like chains. Every time I tried to wake, to breathe, to rise above it—it pulled me back. I didn’t know how long I’d been stuck here. But I knew one thing.

I kept fainting… and waking up in the same place.

Alone.

Shivering.

My body reacted first—the cold, the nausea, the ache behind my eyes. I was curled in on myself again, arms around my knees, crying silently. My chest heaved with invisible sobs. Every time I opened my eyes, I hoped to see something… anything. But it was always the same.

Black.

Until—something changed.

A dim light flickered in the distance. Faint, almost not there. But real.

And this time… I forced myself to stand.

Each step toward the light felt like walking through thick water. Slow. Weighted. But I got closer, inch by inch. I followed the glow until it consumed everything—then suddenly, I snapped awake.

Eyes wide. Breathing ragged.

A white ceiling. I blinked, confused, my chest rising and falling. Machines beeped gently beside me. I turned my head slowly, taking in the sterile environment.

A hospital…?

Panic shot through me. How could I be here?

And more importantly—who paid for this?

Mama tee? Or Aurelian?

Dad?

A harsh thought stabbed through my mind. Dad can’t even afford decent food. Can he even pay a hospital bill… for me?

The absurdity of it burned in my chest. And yet, here I was. Alive. Plugged into wires.

Then everything began to return.

Flash.

The trunk. I’d been locked in it. My limbs twisted. Air thin.

Flash.

Someone opened it. My legs stopped it from closing then I pushed myself out. I tumbled to the ground.

I ran. Limped.

A blinding light.

Car.

Pain.

But… what happened before that?

I couldn’t remember what I was doing in the car, why I was even there. The memory was stubborn, murky.

I shifted slightly and tried to sit up.

“Ah—!” I winced as sharp pain tore through my side, slamming me back into the bed. My body screamed in agony. Then the door creaked open and a nurse peeked in. She froze, eyes wide.

“She’s awake!” she shrieked and rushed out.

Minutes later, she returned with a doctor. He asked questions. Too many. I couldn’t answer. Just nodded faintly.

“Water…” I rasped.

A cup was brought to my lips, and I drank gratefully. My dry throat welcomed it like a lifeline. Then they left, murmuring about my vitals.

I was alone again.

Alone with questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

And then—the door opened again.

I turned my head—and saw him.

Tall. Poised. Impossibly handsome. A storm in human form.

He didn’t move. Just stared.

My heart stopped.

He looked… familiar. So familiar. A face from somewhere. Somewhere important.

Think.

Then—snap. A memory lit up in my brain.

A small phone screen. A saved photo.

That face.

And above it, a single word: "Hope."

My throat tightened. My fingers trembled against the sheets.

Leon Kael.

*Leon Kael?!* I screamed it in my mind, but my lips didn’t move.

As if reading my thoughts, his deep, cold voice sliced through the air with a mocking edge—

“Took you long enough to wake up from being a lazy witch.”

I froze.

His voice grounded the memory. And everything else came rushing in.

Flash.

My father. His eyes red with anger. Bursting into my room. Screaming.

I had tried to escape through the window. I remembered the sharp snap of my bone as I hit the ground. My leg—broken.

I limped. Tried to run. But he caught me.

Then the room. A room filled with ropes, scars, screams.

Beatings. Over and over again. I lost count of the days.

The audition. Leon Kael’s fashion hub audition. I was meant to be there. I never showed up.

Because I was locked up. Being beaten. Starved.

Then—I remembered his voice. My buyer.

“She’ll fetch a good sum at the auction.”

Then blurry memories then darkness.

Then waking up in a trunk. My wrists bruised.

I’d escaped when it opened from a bump—falling out. My stomach had cramped, blood soaking through my pants.

I staggered down a road, found a river, limping…

A flash of light.

A car hitting me.

A figure running toward me.

And then—

Blackness.

My vision blurred again. Tears slipped silently down my cheeks.

I barely noticed Leon Kael moving, but I saw his shadow step closer.

Too close.

I snapped.

“Don’t come near me!” I screamed, my voice sharp, trembling. “Don’t touch me!”

My breath hitched, my eyes wild with fear. My body screamed in pain, but I didn’t care.

Because even though I was no longer in a trunk, I didn’t feel free.

I’m a property to my father buyer.