THE BILLIONAIRE'S CRYBABY
Chapter 71: FOOLISH HOPE

Chapter 71: FOOLISH HOPE

"Before you tell me what you’re about to tell me, can I ask a question please?" Fay asked in a soft voice.

"Sure," he said, but deep down, he was a little apprehensive.

Despite how hard he tried not to overthink things, his mind went to Reign. Perhaps, she was about to ask him about Reign.

If she did, he wasn’t sure he had an answer for her. His time with Reign felt like a lifetime ago. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be her boyfriend.

"My Aunt. Is she alright? Is she with my cousins now?"

His anticipation dropped like a flunked dodge ball pass. That was it? Her big question was about her aunt?

Yikes.

"She should be. I told them to let her go, but with a fine. I also told them to ensure a restraining order is placed, so she never bothers you again."

He expected to see an appreciative smile on her face. At least, a sigh of relief. Instead, a surge of panic ran through her eyes, as she casted a glance his way.

"She can’t stay away from me. I understand you’re mad she came into your house without permission, and for that I’m deeply sorry. But what kind of person would I be if I accept that I’d never have to see her again?" She asked, totally discombobulated.

He was torn between concern and revulsion. Concern because she was obviously out of her mind for not being ecstatic at the thought of her leech of an Aunt staying far away from her.

Revolt because she was acting like a slave with a gun to their head.

He could understand if she didn’t have a choice, but she did. He was giving her one, yet she wanted to remain in her chains.

What he’d give to have half the opportunity she had. He couldn’t just snap his finger and get rid of his aunt. Their power dynamics were on par.

However, she had a slight edge over her aunt now. It was really just that simple.

"I know this isn’t any of your business," she continued when he didn’t say a word, but kept looking at her like she had lost her mind. "But my Aunt is a big reason why I’m still alive today. When my parents died, she took me in, no questions asked. She already had two daughters to care for, still, she accepted me. It drove a wedge between her and her husband, and he left," she closed her eyes, reminiscing the narrative her aunt had sold her over again.

Everytime she found herself doubting it, she pinched her skin. Just like she was doing now. Hadn’t she seen enough proof to believe?

"He left her alone with three kids, and she did the best she could in raising me. I used to think I was unfortunate until she took me to a kids shelter. I realized that the things I considered unfair was just my ungrateful mind trying to be rebellious. She did everything she could. I hope you understand why I’m grateful to her?" She opened her eyes, yet her fingers on her skin didn’t relent.

He wanted to tell her he didn’t understand a thing she said. That she would have been left with less scars in her brain if she had actually been dumped in a kids shelter. But then he paused, realizing they weren’t close enough for all of that.

"Whatever," he said a little too roughly. She flinched, and he saw it, but he didn’t care enough because her docility had pissed him off. "My grandma wants us to come for dinner. I wanted to seek your opinion first, mostly because she wasn’t the nicest to you the last two times you saw her."

Again, she didn’t look repulsed, or even tried to act fake pissed. Her eyes actually lit up.

"Really? I knew she’d come around. She’s such a nice woman that obviously loves you so much and wants the best for you. I’d be honored to accept her dinner invitation."

He just couldn’t hold back anymore, and a hiss escaped his throat to show just how much he couldn’t.

"What is wrong with you?" He asked.

The smile on her face swiftly dwindled. "I don’t understand. Did I say something wrong?" Before he responded, she searched her brain, trying to remember if she had said anything that was offensive.

"Don’t you know how to hold a grudge? If someone’s mean to you for no reason, the appropriate response is to hold a grudge and not take the highroad every damn time!" His voice rose a little, slightly showing his frustration with her.

"I—" she stumbled on her words, unable to effectively communicate the counter she had in her brain.

"How far can someone hurt you before you actually hate a person? Tell me. I’m very curious."

"Hate is a strong word. Even the worst people can change, so I don’t—"

"You don’t hate your aunt’s husband?"

Her heart skipped a beat at that question. She had never really thought about her feelings for the man.

He had lied, and her Aunt believed it. She had not tried to explain, because no one would believe her.

Years passed with her burying his evil against her somewhere very deep. But never had she truly confronted her feelings for him, to know what those feelings actually were.

"It’s not—"

"You can’t answer because you know you’re bulshitting. I saw the video Reign sent you. If you believe there’s good in everyone, do you also have a justifiable reason for someone who’s trying to mess with you when you’ve done nothing to her?"

"Did I really do nothing to her? I’m married to the man she loves. She’s clearly upset because she still loves you. And how did you even know about the video?" She asked, and he paused.

In his frustration with her goodness, he had slipped up, and now he had to do damage control.

"That’s not the point."

"Were you in my room last night?" Even as she asked the question, she felt ridiculous.

He wouldn’t be. Why would he? They weren’t close enough for him to check up on her. He brought her to his room as a rare courtesy.

"And then he kissed you," a voice rang clearly in her head, and her face flushed.

"Fuck it!" He thought in his head, and went for it.

"I was in your room because—" he had almost damned the consequences again. But a thought had struck in his head in the nick of time. "I was in your room to tell you about grandma’s dinner plans. You were asleep, and your phone beeped. The queen of hearts made me curious, so I looked. But again, that’s not the point."

Her chest fell. She knew he couldn’t possibly have come to check up on her, but there was always that glimmer of hope present.

Hope that had completely shattered right in her face.

"That’s what you get for daring to hope."

"So you saw the video," she said.

"How did you feel when you saw it?" He surprised her by asking.

"I understood her. People are protective of what they love. They’d do everything to preserve that love. She loves you," she looked up, and found him staring intensely at her. "She really does."

"Is that what you told yourself to justify your cowardice? You have no right to feel disrespected by an act like that because the perpetuator loves me?" He scoffed, "You’re unbelievable," and turned around.

"But I don’t have any right," she muttered under her breath, watching him walk away.

He was halfway out when he realized the bag was still in his hand. Rolling his eyes from side to side, he turned and returned to her.

Fay’s eyes lit up with hope when she saw him approach her.

But he didn’t stay. He dropped her bag, and departed

"Hope. Foolish hope," she thought as he left.

Her hand left her skin to her chest. She hit it one two many times, punishing herself for not being the way she ought to be.

Even something as normal as vengeance was a concept too foreign to her kind brain.

Ace was right. She was pathetic. He had not said it using that exact word, but it was the summary.

A tear rolled down her face.

"Of course," she whispered.

She would have been more surprised if she didn’t cry. Sometimes she prayed for her tear pores to be sealed so she never had to cry again.

Wishful thinking.

The whooshing sound of the fountain called to her. Rotating her head behind, she watched the water.

It was supposed to calm her, so why was she crying profusely now?

"Mrs Fay?"

She quickly wiped her tears before turning around to see Cam. Beside him, Marilyn stood with a tray in her hand.

"Are you okay Mrs Fay?" She heard the panic in her voice.

"I am," she said. She should have left it at that, but she realized her trembling voice wasn’t convincing enough to deter them. So she asked, "What is Ace’s grandma’s favorite color?"