MR BILLIONAIRE'S REGRET: CHASING HIS IRRESISTIBLE WIFE

(Arielle's POV)

Dwayne gestured to the bench, and we both sat down, our shoulders brushing as we settled into the space between us. A heavy silence hung in the air, neither of us speaking. I didn't want to pressure him, but being near him made me uneasy, especially when I knew he was hiding something from me. "It's... complicated," he said after a moment, breaking the silence.

"That's one thing about you that I'm trying to understand," I replied. "You're complicated, Dwayne. And I want to know why. Don't try to fool me this time. Nana's words..."-I shook my head "Nana Jean's always been good to me, but that doesn't mean she's completely open, especially when her own interests are involved."

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "I just want to hear it all from you, yourself. If you still regard me as your friend, Dwayne."

He met my gaze, and for a brief moment, we just stared at each other. He didn't speak, but his expression softened into that same helpless, tolerant smile, as if to say there was nothing more he could do. He shook his head slightly and then reached into his suit pocket, pulling out a small, vintage-looking wallet. He opened it carefully and took out a photo, holding it out to me.

I took the photo from him. It was old, slightly yellowed, with a crack running down the middle as though it had been torn in two and then glued back together.

I glanced up at Dwayne, but his face was unreadable now. The smile was gone.

He whispered, "Celeste Vandelle. A Hollywood singer in the 1990s. She was incredibly talented. When she debuted, everyone thought she was going to be an international superstar. She's my mother."

I stared at the woman in the photo. She was singing, mid-performance, completely absorbed in the moment. There was an ethereal quality to her a stunning, almost androgynous beauty. But it was those emerald eyes that stood out most. They were the same as Dwayne's. It was like looking into the same pair of eyes, only they were younger, filled with a different kind of light.

"She looks like a siren goddess," I murmured.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

"But within a year," Dwayne continued, his voice suddenly turning cold, slicing through the still air, "she disappeared. No one cared anymore. Because she died. At such a young age."

I was stunned.

Before I could respond, Dwayne spoke again, his words coming faster now, almost a blur. "She died. For a man." His fist clenched, the knuckles turning white.

I looked back at the photo and finally noticed a man standing in the corner, dressed in a black suit and cloak. The moment I saw him, I knew who he was. I didn't need Dwayne to tell me. Grant Whitmore Smith. Jared's father.

Or, more precisely...

"He's my father," Dwayne said, his voice as cold as the wind.

(DWAYNE'S POV)

"Start from somewhere, Dwayne. Just... just say something," she implored, her expression softening.

I'd long moved on from this chapter of my life, but every time I was forced to revisit it, the emotions hit me like a freight train. Arielle deserved to know, though. She deserved that much. So I inhaled, trying to steady myself, and began. "Grant met my mom when she was on the rise. She was everywhere. Any young man at the time would've wanted her. Grant did. They... fell in love, maybe. And my mother got pregnant with me."

I paused, gathering my thoughts. "There's a lot surrounding my birth, but... Jean-your nana-was against their relationship. It was a scandal. A forbidden affair. Didn't stop Grant, though. If anything, it probably made it all the more thrilling for him."

I lifted my gaze from the floor where it had been fixed since the start of the conversation. Arielle's expression shifted, her face paling as my words hit her. I gave a brief, cold smile, then continued.

"He took her in, under his protection, against Jean's wishes. My mother was devastated, torn between everything. She... she wanted to die, Arielle. Suicide was a constant thought for her."

"Grant was too obsessed with her to let her go. He saved her every time she tried. I was born, but I was just there. A byproduct of their mess. He wasn't really ever there for me. He was too busy worrying about her... and her fragile state. I just felt like... I wasn't enough. Not enough to make her stay. Not enough to make her want to live."

My voice cracked, but I forced it steady.

"When I turned four, I started to understand. Grant's focus shifted. My mother wasn't the priority anymore. He gave in to the Smiths-his family-and married someone they chose for him. My mother couldn't take it. She... she took her life. And Grant wasn't there to stop her this time."

I felt a cold tear fall down my cheek, something I hadn't felt in years. I wasn't supposed to cry. In my world, tears were a weakness, and I'd long buried that part of me. But I wiped it away quickly and carried on.

Arielle's hand found mine, and she cupped my face gently, forcing me to meet her eyes. Her expression was soft, filled with pain. "I'm sorry, Dwayne. I'm so sorry. You can stop, if it's too much. Please. You don't have to keep going."

I smiled, and continued.

"I blamed him for my mother's death every single day after that. I was just a boy, but I knew hate. It became a part of me. I grew up with it, let it mold me. I had nothing worth living for. My mom was dead, and my father, well, he had a new family he was more interested in taking care of. I wasn't allowed anywhere near them, of course. I grew up in the same house where he'd hidden my mother from the world."

"I wanted warmth, something outside the cold reality I'd come to know. I got into fights, stole. I wanted to be caught, to go to jail, anything to escape that house. It was a prison. I'd see my mother every night in my mind, hear her cries when I closed my eyes."

I swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat.

"But my father wouldn't let me have even that little escape. I found out fast that he was a man of influence. Grant Whitmore Smith, feared by many. A respectable man, yes, but not because he was virtuous. It was because he was a Mafia kingpin." With that, I laughed, though it was a hollow sound.

"When he heard I was making trouble on the streets, he didn't get angry. No, he saw an opportunity. I wasn't a nuisance anymore; I was a resource. He pulled me into the family business, gave me a sliver of his power. Money. A couple of apartments-places to lay low, in case of a rival gang. Then he shipped me off to Torino to learn from a casino owner."

"The place was falling apart. Felipe, my mentor, was just trying to keep it afloat. People had already moved on to bigger, more profitable zones. But Felipe, he saw something in me. He told me, see potential in you. I want you to see it in yourself.' So I helped with the casino-ran tickets,O balanced the accounts, cleaned up after each night. Felipe even got me back in school. It was my way out. I threw myself into my studies, turned my ambition into something else. I even thought about becoming a doctor."

At this point I let out a bitter laugh. I moved my thumbs around each other in circles, a habit I had picked up as a boy, sitting in the dark with no one to speak with. I looked at Arielle then, meeting her gaze, and the words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. "Until one day, I came back from school one day, ready to finish my finals, and found out Felipe... he was dead. The casino had been raided. Killed by a rival gang. “

I clenched my hands into fists, my knuckles white.

"They killed the only man who had

cared enough to take a chance with me. Oh I was mad. I wanted blood. I threw away every bit of restraint

Felipe had taught me. I went looking for his killers like a loose wolf. But there was just so much I could do on my own. I'd never wanted to turn to Grant for anything or to see him again for that matter. But needed his resources to find Felipe's killers. I figured since he was a powerful Mafia Lord, he'd know what to do. Felipe was supposed to be a part of his gang after all. An offshoot. Or so I thought."

I stopped, exhaling sharply, my chest tight with the intensity of the memory.

"I went looking for the famous Grant

and learned that he had moved out of the country with his new family. I tracked him down, found out he was in the States. So, I went after him, with whatever I could scrape

together. I was going to control niets

him. I was going to call him out for abandoning Felipe, for betraying his friend. I thought, if I could make him feel the same way I did... he'd come to avenge Felipe. But you know what he said to me when I found him?"