The Billionaire's Offer

Chapter 31

Asher

Alone in Max's quiet living room, the weight of guilt feels heavy on my shoulders, like an invisible burden I can't shake off.

Everything feels different now, tainted by the events of last night. Emma's face haunts my thoughts, her hurt expression etched into my mind like a painful reminder of my own mistakes.

As I pace back and forth across the polished marble floor, my footsteps echo in the empty room. How did I let things spiral out of control like this? How could Clare do that to me? What the hell is going on?

I never meant to hurt Emma; never imagined I'd find myself in such a mess. But as I try to make sense of things, my mind keeps telling me there's more to this story. Why would Clare roof me? What would she gain by doing that?

The memory of her apartment flashes before my eyes, fragmented and hazy like a nightmare I can't escape. I remember the taste of alcohol on my lips and the blurred lines between reality and illusion. But beyond that, everything is a blur, a jumbled mess of confusion and regret.

Grabbing my phone, my fingers hover over Emma's name, but I can't bring myself to call her.

Did you sleep with Clare? Her words echo in my mind, each repetition driving the dagger of guilt deeper into my heart.

I can still vividly recall the pain in her eyes, the mere memory causing a pang of guilt to twist in my chest. 

Fuck! What the hell happened last night?

The arrival of the doctor and a couple of nurses Max had arranged briefly broke the tension between Emma and me earlier today, and the headache raging in my skull made it difficult to focus on anything else.

I barely heard what the doctor said as he examined me, the words lost in a haze of pain.

All I know is that I took the medicine he prescribed and soon made my way to my old room with the help of the nurses.

Emma's gaze followed me, her silent presence a comforting anchor in the storm of my jumbled thoughts. I silently pleaded for her to stay with me, and to my relief, she did.

But now, as I stand alone in the dimly lit room, the silence and her absence weigh heavily upon me.

The note she left behind is secured in my pocket, a simple yet profound reminder of her absence. I pick it up, tracing the elegant curve of her handwriting with a trembling finger.

"Call me when you wake up," she wrote; her words a lifeline in the darkness of my despair.

Taking a deep breath, I reach for my phone, but before I can press call, a notification pops up from an unknown number.

"I'm so sorry!" The words flash on my screen, jolting me out of my thoughts. My heart lurches in my chest, a sudden surge of adrenaline flooding my veins.

For a fleeting moment, I'm paralyzed, unable to process the flood of emotions coursing through me. Gathering my wits, I manage to type out a response; my fingers trembling over the keys. "Who's this?"

Another text comes through almost immediately: "I erased all the pictures I took."

My mind races as I try to piece together the fragments of information. Could it be Clare? The thought sends a surge of anger coursing through me. How dare she think a simple apology could erase the damage she's caused?

Without hesitation, I dial the number, my body shaking with a mix of fury and desperation. The phone rings once, twice, and then she picks up.

"Hello?" her voice is soft, clearly hesitant.