The Billionaire Who Faked My Love Story And Lost The Real One Chapter 09
Silas and I walked into a gala together. The message was clear: the Marlowes and Whitlocks were back.
Every head in the room turned.
“Elara? Where the hell have you been?”
“Silas lost his mind looking for you. We all thought you were dead…”
That was when Garrick crashed through the doors.
A room full of people in black tie, and the richest man in Northbridge looked like he’d been dragged
behind a car.
His shirt was ruined, the bloodstain at his side still spreading.
He looked like a man who’d lost a war.
He cut through the crowd and stopped in front of me.
Everything went quiet around us. The glasses, the whispers, the music. Like someone had killed the
sound.
Every eye in the room dropped to his outstretched hand.
Wedding rings. A handful of them, glittering under the chandeliers.
“Elara, I’m giving them all back.”
I looked down at them.
Then I smiled.
I lifted my hand and let my fingertips trail across his palm.
He was watching me with so much hope it was almost painful. I swept every ring off his hand.
They hit the marble and scattered.
Some rolled to the feet of guests. Others spun under tables and wobbled to a stop.
One of them was a plain band. He’d made it himself. It used to be my favorite.
It rolled all the way to Silas’s shoe. He set his foot on it, soft and final.
Garrick dropped to his knees.
His knees cracked against the marble.
He bent forward and gathered the rings one by one, knuckles scraping the stone.
Blood from his side dripped off his shirt and hit the white marble.
No one in the room breathed.
I stood over him.
“Garrick, here’s something you never knew.”
My voice was quiet, but in that silence, it carried.
“I really did fall for you.”
“I almost let it all go. Almost spent the rest of my life pretending.”
“But you had to cheat.”
His whole body locked. His breathing went ragged.
The rings he’d just gathered slipped through his fingers, clinking across the floor again.
He stayed there, frozen, hands shaking.
Every muscle in his body had pulled taut, like something inside him was being torn apart.
He was in agony.
I watched him suffer for a moment.
Then I let the smile drop.
“I was lying.”
“Garrick, you’re pathetic.”
“Before I lost my memory, did I ever treat you well? Did I ever say a single kind thing to you? Did I
ever give you one reason to think I liked you?”
“What made you think you could steal five years of my life?”
“These five years with you…” I shook my head slowly. “They made me sick.”
Garrick’s breath hitched. He couldn’t stop himself. He reached for me.
His fingertips were an inch from my wrist.
Another hand shot out and caught his wrist.
Silas drew me behind him and looked down at Garrick, still on his knees.
He rolled up his sleeves.
“Garrick.”
The first punch landed with a sound like meat hitting stone. Garrick’s head snapped sideways.
The second one drove into his wounded side. Garrick buckled, a choked sound tearing out of him as
he went down and took a chair with him.
Garrick swung back on instinct and caught Silas at the corner of his mouth.
“Silas!”
I dropped beside him, caught his jaw, and turned his face to mine.
His lip was split. A thin line of blood was already running.
I wiped it away with my thumb.
Garrick hauled himself off the floor, half his face already swelling.
Blood from his side had pooled on the marble beneath him.
He pressed his hand to his stomach and stared at me, looking wounded in every possible way.
“He threw the first punch, Elara! I’m the one bleeding out on the floor!”
I barely looked at him.
“And?”
I took Silas’s hand and walked out.
Behind us, the hall had gone silent. The only sound was Garrick on the floor, trying to breathe.
Rough, ragged breaths. Like a man with nothing left.
But what did that have to do with me?
