The Forbidden Billionaire by J.S. Scott

Description : The Forbidden Billionaire

Five Years Ago, Cambridge, Massachusetts

“Where the hell am I?”

The inebriated man on the living room floor was muttering, only partially coherent, mumbling to himself as he experienced a rare moment of consciousness. Not wanting to be awake again, he groaned in protest. Getting up awkwardly, he stumbled to the bathroom, his bladder ready to explode if he didn’t move.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror after awkwardly taking care of business, he squinted at the image, his vision still blurred and hazy.

Oh yeah, he recognized the face beneath the growing beard, swollen eyes, and gaunt features.

Still the face of a killer.

He promptly put his fist into the mirror with what little strength he had left in his body, the reflective image shattering on contact. “Bastard!” he rasped weakly, a cut from the shattered glass starting to bleed, blood trickling from his still-fisted hand. “Stupid, ignorant, fucked-up asshole.”

The relief of not seeing his repulsive counterpart anymore was brief and hardly noticeable. He turned and left the bathroom, not bothering to clean up the glass. It hardly mattered. His entire house was a disaster, and he couldn’t have cared less.

Shit! He hated these moments of lucidity. They sucked. All he wanted was some reprieve from the agony of thinking.

Anger or guilt?

Hatred or love?

Fury or remorse?

Disoriented emotions entangled inside his head until he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe because of the anguish it caused. A brutal pain ripped through his chest, his gut cramping as he thought of her. And him.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think. Don’t. Think.

He tried not to reason, not to try to make sense of anything, but his brain wouldn’t...
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