Shattered Love : A Billionaire Romance (Forever Us Book 1)

by Bianca Borell

  Afterward, Damien gifted me a gold necklace, a heart-shape with two barn owls engraved on it. The wings of the owls form the heart with their heads touching. One had blue eyes, and the other had hazel eyes. He had designed it himself because of the symbolism. Damien said I deserved something unique. Barn owls find their other half, and the bond lasts a lifetime. Engraved on the back of the necklace are the words which will haunt me for life—B, you are my forever love.

  The necklace was a promise of our future, and we would be it for each other. It was also appropriate since on that day, the eighteenth of August, we celebrated his birthday and our fourth anniversary of being each other’s everything.

  Two years later, he started celebrating his birthday on August nineteenth instead. I heard he always disappeared on August eighteenth, and no one knew where he was or what he did.

  I stopped wearing my necklace and having birthday parties. Everything plummeted to nothing.

  BRIA

  The memory fades away, and I answer Sophia. “How suitable. Let’s hope Damien behaves until Monica returns. Have a great night and party yourself into oblivion.” I am about to turn around when I notice my words stirred a reaction in her. Her eyes fill with determination, and she grips my arm.

  “Does it work for you, Bria?”

  “What exactly?”

  Her lips contour into a fake smile as she asks, “Are you happy enjoying your oblivion?”

  She can’t know about my condition. It’s the best-kept secret, similar to FBI material, hidden in a secret file under lock and key, never to emerge or be inquired about by the public.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” After I inhale a breath, I add, “I keep the past in the past because it’s where it belongs. I made my decisions a long time ago and I have no time for reminiscing about something long forgotten.”

  Wow! That was a low blow wrapped in a big lie. Her cheekbones and neck turn red as her chest expands, and I wait for the wrath of Sophia du Sky, seven-year-old bottled rage. The scars she’ll add will be a nice addition to my collection.

  But then her expression shifts into something I’m not prepared for and freeze—acceptance, even understanding. I’m not so sure anymore if my heart will survive the events of tonight.

  “Bria, you were like a sister to me. Do you realize what the consequences were of your so-called decisions?”

  My trembling hand vaults to my heart. I hate she’s caught my slip before I resume my stoic position. Her face lights in challenge as she keeps delivering blows in a broken voice full of affection. I take it because I gave her the ammunition she needed. Her brother would be so damn proud of her. Me, I simply scan the room for the exit until her words drag my attention back to her.

  “Are you at least happy? Is your life the way you envisioned it? Because you can pretend as much as you want, but you stopped being the same person seven years ago. And yes, it seems you are damn good at pretending no one sees the difference. But I do when you let your focus slip for one second. In that second, I notice the shell you’ve become, the emptiness inside you, how broken you truly are. You work like a robot every damn day for . . . how long? Fourteen to eighteen hours a day? Do you think I’ve forgotten how you enjoyed life, and now everything revolves around work and more work?

  “I resented you so much for so long, but in the end, the problem is that hate is measurable. Hate can never outlive love. So, I gave up hating you and put you in a box with all my happy memories along with sixteen years of a blissful life. It’s a box for someone special . . . for you.” She sighs but carries on when I don’t answer. “Do you at least care anymore? Was I nothing to you? I looked up to you. You were my role model. What you and my brother had was what I dreamed for every night . . . to find my soul mate in my best friend. So why, Bria? I just want to know why.”

  “Why now, Sophia? What are you after, a confession, an apology, both?”

  “You stopped partying altogether seven years ago. You don’t even celebrate your birthday anymore. And now this? Not to say how it looks.”

  Her words only magnify with her dramatic show of waving with her hands around us like I am blind to the decor I chose. “And let’s not forget the name of the party . . . Oblivion. It’s like you’re saying goodbye. Although my regards to the catering firm. Sarah did well in hiding the whole macabre touch to a point, or did you have an epiphany and embraced the gothic style?”

  Sophia’s brows draw together, she’s always been perceptive, but I’ve never feared she could detect anything other than what I purposely displayed.

  “Believe what you wish,” I say in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Stop it; just stop it! You owe me, and you know it.”

  Raw pain clouds her delicate features. In the middle of the vibrating floor, covered by dancing and tangled bodies, and with her in my face with masks hiding the thick tension brewing around us, I grip her upper arm and shout, “Do you want me to admit what we both already know? That what I did almost destroyed everyone? Okay, yes, I owe something to the whole family, but you’re the first and only one who has asked the question. You all decided the same thing . . . never to bring it up.”

  “All of us? What does that mean, anyway? Didn’t you need a coping mechanism? Why?” Her forehead creases in confusion, and interest transforms her expression.

  “I have another coping mechanism. It’s my salvation and my curse, and I will live with the consequences for the rest of my life.”

  I snatch my gaze away from her curious one. It’s too much. Everything’s so raw. The sheer intensity plays havoc with my heart. It unnerves me. We both bleed, and we have no bandages.

  “Where were you when everything fell apart? Where were you when my brother swam in alcohol, more drunk than awake for six straight months, and when our parents not only had to run the company but also find a solution for the fucked-up mess you left behind?”

  “Your brother is more than fine,” I retort as I scrunch my nose. “Everything with the company is in top condition. Our parents have always functioned in worst-case scenarios, so why don’t you let the past rest?”

  Her expression hardens at my harsh robotic answer. I guess, over time, I have become kind of a robot too.

  “My brother is fine? Are you out of your damn mind? Do you know he dreamed of you every night and woke up screaming your name? His best friend became a bottle of Lagavulin twelve whiskey as nothing would ease his pain or fill the hole you left.”

  Her words rip my heart from my chest. I can almost feel it weakening by the second, as if bleeding out the last drop, which ensures my life.

  It’s worse than I’d imagined.

  She’s not finished ranting as she winces and continues, “After months when I thought I’d lost him too, he woke up one morning, moved out, and turned into a notorious and heartless playboy. A cold man with soulless eyes. When I told him he scared me, and I didn’t recognize him anymore, he deadpanned with a blank look on his face, ‘Good, because that person is dead.’”

  She’s fighting back the tears shimmering in her eyes but adds through a pained exhale, “Within a few months, I lost two of the most important people in my life.”

  “The last time I was with him, he professed his love for Monica. It’s been seven years, Sophia. What do you expect from me? We adapted pretty well, I would say.” My mouth feels like sandpaper as she points a finger at me.

  “He’s loved only one person his entire life, and that is you. You, Bria, were his destruction because you turned his capacity to love again off. And Monica accepts it, I guess. It has to be the only reason she succeeded in ‘taming’ him, as everyone believes. But to answer your question . . . no, I’m not happy because my brother lost his happiness seven years ago.”

  “Why did you tell me all this? What do you think you’ll achieve?”

  “The truth? To finally understand what happened.”

  “The truth will set no one free, I guarantee you.”

  How long can I k
eep up with her until I give in? I remember a determined Sophia is an unstoppable force.

  “I never heard your side of the story. So tell me.”

  “You can have three questions and no more, so use them well. Afterward, you will turn around, never ask about it again, and you won’t tell anyone. Agreed?”

  “I promise. Now for your part. Where were you?”

  I grab her hand and lead her through cheering voices and bobbing heads, hidden faces, and bodies grinding under the spell of pummeling beats. I halt as I reach our destination. With shaky fingers, I reach for the knob and open the bathroom lounge’s door.

  With questioning eyes, Sophia follows. Large mirrors spread throughout the entire place, with white marble and gold accents adding to the luxurious area. A lonely violet cushioned, curvy couch rests in the middle. Different scents ranging from sweet to fresh are heavy in the air, turning my stomach. I gesture toward the sofa, but she shakes her head and opts to lean against the sink tiles. I lock the door and lean against the powder-white wall.

  “You wanted to know. I’ll show you first.” I remove my mask, then take off my shirt and drop it on the couch. Sophia squints at my battle scars exposed by the blinding spotlights in the ceiling. Between my breasts, covered in a heart-shaped barn owl tattoo, she detects what I hide, the scars from my heart surgeries.

  Her hand flies to cover her mouth, and tears spill down her cheeks. One visual and her emotions flow like water from a faucet. I tear my eyes away from the hideous reflection of my scars as I confess about my condition.

  “I was giving up the fight for life in a hospital bed, wishing for peace. That’s what I was doing after I was diagnosed with a broken heart. I had multiple heart attacks within a few months that weakened my heart. They operated on me two times, but the damage was too severe. The result . . . heart failure.”

  “But how? I mean, you were always so healthy.”

  “It’s how my heart reacted when I lost the love of my life, my life shattering into a million pieces before my eyes. All the stress and trauma, I guess. It gave up and ceased beating. I was put in a coma. It was the only way to keep me alive between heart attacks and surgeries. My heart failed the moment I caught your brother’s expression transform from adoration to hatred. It happened within seconds without knowing what caused it until I looked beside me. The world I knew ended when this guy opened his mouth and said, ‘Thank you for the most amazing night of my life,’ bounced up, got dressed, and disappeared.” I pause and breathe through the pain of reminiscing. “I don’t even recall his name or what happened. That night is a blur in my head. I’ve tried so damned hard to remember, but nothing comes to me.” My entire body shivers. It’s as if I go through the wreckage of my life once more. I put my arms around me as Sophia mirrors my posture.

  “I only know for sure I adored your brother. I would never have cheated on him because I never belonged to anyone else. I’ve always been his. And then I woke up to the nightmare that became my life.” I focus on her blinking, shock etched in her blue eyes. It grounds me and offers me a fleeting sense of security. It was just a memory. I am not in that hotel room anymore.

  “When I got home, I wasn’t the same anymore. And in the next days, I had the first heart attack—my dysfunctional heart, just one of the two conditions I have. I am ill and ceased caring whether I live or die seven years ago. I hope I’ve set you free once and for all. I’ve paid the debt, and now, please leave and forget about it.” I shut my eyes, trying to shove the vision of the past from my mind.

  “I have one more question left. You promised me three answers,” she reminds me, her voice meek, her face drained of color as she chews on her lower lip.

  “Do you still love Damien?”

  My heart flutters, and my breathing speeds up. I never expected this question, not in a million years.

  What is wrong with the people in my life?

  Two different people asking me the same question in one night?

  My palm grips the marbled washbowl as I wince. “I’m incapable of feeling anything, usually,” I say as my eyes catch her quivering lower lip and glossy eyes. “The predominant feeling is always pain.” I lock my eyes on the ones reflecting at me in the mirror, acknowledging for the first time in too long, the one truth I will never escape. “Sophia, Damien is the love of my life. I loved him until my heart gave up on him and my love for him so I could function again. Pain is what I feel when I think of your brother, excruciating agony every time I see or hear about him or when he looks at me as if seeing through me. Realizing he will marry . . . I know when he begins his marital life, it will be the end of mine. Hurt for what he did to me a year ago . . .”

  Sophia’s mouth opens, but I tip my chin to the door. Her lips press into a thin line, remembering the pact we made. She bows her head and pushes herself off the frame. When she grasps the door handle, she tilts halfway toward me and says, “Thank you. I am sorry, Bria . . . for everything.”

  Silent tears roll down my face as I plod toward the couch and grab my shirt. I let my body sink into the plush material as the silence penetrates me. My head slumps on the frame, and I exhale in perfect synchrony with the ticking of my watch. Broken pieces of me lie scattered on the floor. This is what my life has become.

  DAMIEN

  From my spot in the farthest and shadow-casted corner of the bar, I let the whiskey’s burn ease the unsettling feeling inside me. I cock my head and observe the scene behind me—laughter mingling with the music, undulating bodies, and eyes hooded with lust. One year ago, I would have been in the middle of the scene. Hell, by now, I would have taken someone to bed and be done with the night and the pretense of being entertained.

  But with tension crippling me and paranoia flooding my brain, I’m not inclined to catch up. If it’s the mask, my back, or my constant snarl tattooed on my face, I have no idea, but I am left alone and excused from the social mingling. I stare at the door my sister and Bria disappeared behind too long ago for my liking. When the restroom door opens to reveal my sister, my fingers freeze on the glass. She plods along, shoulders sagging, her upper body supported by the hand she trails on the wall. Her mask does little to hide her teary eyes. What the fuck happened in the restroom? Because I’ve never seen my sister this distressed. I gulp the rest of the alcohol, slam the glass on the bar, and stride toward her. I snatch her arm and scoot her to the first floor.

  “Sophia?”

  “I have to go. I . . .” She stumbles, but I catch her. “I can’t. I have to get out of here.”

  I pin her shoulders and shake her, panic striking me. “What happened? Tell me.”

  “I got some answers, and Bria was right. I should have left it in the past.”

  “What are you talking about?” I snarl, her name alone unleashing hell inside of me. It must have something to do with what I overheard.

  She shakes her head, and her face scrunches up with anguish.

  “I’ve held so much rage and hatred toward her for so long . . . I forgot Bria was the one who lost everything.”

  “Are you taking her side now? She cheated on me with some drunken asshole who just left her there. Then she went away while we had to hold everything together. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Don’t be stupid. I know what she caused, but when I think of how much she loved you . . .” She pauses, gulps, and continues, “Do you really think she could cheat on you? You were the only guy she ever saw. I would catch her daydreaming about you when you were not there. Her eyes sparkled when she talked with and about you.” Her eyes seek mine as if to force me to remember how in love Bria was with me. I shut my eyes. Doesn’t she know this is my greatest turmoil—not forgetting?

  “Could such a girl give up everything for one night with someone else? What I witnessed and heard . . . the way she takes it with such ease and finality. What a tragic way to end an epic love.”

  “What are you talking about?” My heart pounds in my chest as sadness clouds her features. My muscles tighten
in my body as I run my fingers through my hair. I knew it was a bad idea to come here, but I never expected it to be a fucking nightmare. I am redirected seven years back to the last time my heart galloped like this in my chest.

  The first of May, Bria’s birthday. She was eighteen, and I could finally propose. Everything was planned, from picking her up, to her saying yes on the land surrounding the lake where we would build our house. Relief and happiness spread in my heart. That was until I swaggered into her hotel room and stalled. Bria peered at me through long lashes, beckoning me, and patted the spot in front of her. Before my eyes stood a blonde angel covered half in a white sheet with her wayward hair covering her silky breasts. It would have been the perfect image of beauty, but in me arose this storm that would drown my heart into the depths of suffering and betrayal. Her brows rose, and a thin line appeared on her forehead, her eyes focused on my hands balled into fists beside me. Something else held my attention and halted me from going to her. She tilted her head and froze.

  Bria said nothing.

  She didn’t even blink.

  Her gaze hovered between the two of us as her hand covered her mouth.

  My feet were glued to the floor. The sleazy scumbag awoke with a yawn, rubbed the sleep away from his murky eyes, and let out a satisfied groan. The corner of his mouth turned up and he kissed her forehead. He dared to thank her for the best night of his life. Since he was naked, I assumed he was talking about having sex with my future fiancée. He hopped off the bed, stretched his lanky limbs, got dressed, and even winked before he slid out.

  Time stood still. Bria’s mouth opened and sealed repeatedly, and it reminded me of a fish on the shore desperate to inhale oxygen. Her eyes, which brewed so much conflict, glanced between the ruffled spot beside her and the semi-ajar door. She put her head in her hands and rocked herself. I was rendered immobile. Somehow, when my mouth decided it could move again, I asked this stupid question, a question I never thought I would have to ask. It must be shock because there is no answer I could ever find acceptable.