Dirty Billionaire: Own Me

Chapter 2: Betray

|Grace|

I could hardly keep my fingers from trembling as I pushed open the door to an upscale restaurant where Keith had chosen to flaunt his latest conquest. My chest tightened with a mixture of betrayal and anger, each step closer to their table feeling like another dagger in my heart.

There he was, seated confidently across from a woman who couldn’t have been more than twenty, her laughter ringing like a siren in my ears. Keith’s back was to me, but I could see the way he leaned in, his lips curling into that charming smile that had once captivated me.

“Keith, you fvck!ng bastard!” I shouted, my voice slicing through the soft hum of conversation in the restaurant. Heads turned, eyes widening in surprise and curiosity.

I didn't hesitate for a moment; my fury propelled me straight toward Keith. My anger was a force of nature, unstoppable by anyone or anything. The final straw had been the phone call I received mere seconds ago, informing me of yet another debt I needed to settle. It was the tipping point that shattered my remaining patience.

And it was in that moment I fully grasped the depth of Keith's betrayal.

"How dare you, Keith! How dare you!" I bellowed at the top of my lungs.

Had I been thinking clearly, I might have hesitated, aware of the public setting. My initial plan had been to confront him privately, away from prying eyes. But the revelation I'd just received shattered any semblance of restraint I had left. My patience evaporated, replaced by a surge of uncontrollable fury.

“How dare you do this to me! How dare you, you bastard!” I repeated in so much anger. Blinded by rage, I lunged at him, my fists flying in a desperate attempt to make him feel even a fraction of my pain. Each punch landed with a mix of anger and heartbreak, my tears streaming uncontrollably as I lashed out with every ounce of strength I had left.

In the back of my mind, a dark thought whispered: if I could end his life without facing prison, I would do it without hesitation, gladly staining my hands with his blood.

“Grace, what the fxck?! Calm the hell down!” Keith captured my shoulders in order to restrain me from hitting him.

"Calm down?! You really think I can calm down after what you've done?!" I yelled, my voice shaking with rage.

"Grace, whatever the issue is, we can discuss it without shouting," he retorted, shoving me aside.

I stumbled, momentarily stunned that he could actually do that to me. Then I noticed Keith and his mistress frantically glancing around, their discomfort palpable. I could practically see the unease written all over their faces, a direct result of my outburst.

Oh how fvcking convenient it is to be the villain in this twisted drama!

"How dare you lay a finger on my assets! How dare you bleed my accounts dry! How dare you squander my hard-earned money on your damned gambling debts? How shamelessly audacious can you be, Keith! How dare you orchestrate this treachery behind my back?!"

Unable to contain the flood of tears, I felt them cascade down my cheeks unchecked. From the corner of my eye, I noticed the curious glances of onlookers, their smartphones held aloft to capture the spectacle. Some even questioned aloud if there was a commotion or an unexpected event occurring, as if the three of us were performing some twisted drama without the directors around.

"Grace, I don’t know what you’re talking about," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "And stop causing a scene! Let’s discuss our divorce in private."

"You deceitful liar! Do you honestly expect me to swallow your lies? I have evidence, Keith!"

A flicker of shock passed through his eyes, fleeting but unmistakable. Yet, he was adept at swiftly veiling it behind a facade of confusion.

"I haven’t laid a finger on your finances, Grace! Why on earth would I do such a thing, especially now as we're finalizing our divorce proceedings?"

I couldn't help but scoff at his theatrics.

"Do you honestly think I'm buying into this performance, Keith?" I spat, my anger boiling over. "I know you inside out! I've overlooked your infidelities! I've turned a blind eye to your deceit! And now, you're pulling this crap on me?! Screw you, Keith! You better repay what you owe me!"

I lunged at him once more, but he deftly blocked my feeble attempts to strike him. The gasps of shock from the surrounding diners filled the air as Keith pushed me away a second time. Only this time, I lost my balance and tumbled gracelessly to the floor.

I remained there, dumbfounded by Keith's actions. My jaw hung open in disbelief at the absurdity of the situation. There I was, a disheveled mess on the floor, caught off guard by his sudden rejection. I never imagined he could dismiss me so callously, as if I were some crazed fan clinging desperately to him.

"Stop being hysterical, Grace," he chastised, his tone dripping with disappointment. "You know perfectly well I didn’t touch your money. We resolved that issue weeks ago. So why are you accusing me of these supposed debts?"

His words cut through the haze of shock, jolting me back to reality.

Raising my gaze, I met the gaze of my treacherous ex-husband. His eyes held a mocking pity, as if he believed I was losing my grip on reality. But I saw through his facade; his attempts at manipulation were transparent to me.

What fueled my rage further was the sight of the woman by his side. Her expression was one of feigned concern, but I could see the falsity in her eyes. Perhaps my years of navigating deceit and my expertise in the field of acting had honed my ability to discern truth from deception.

Hillary Hilton.

She was the other woman, entangled in my soon-to-be-ex-husband's web of deceit. The sight of them dining together made me want to fvcking retch with disgust.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I drew in a jagged breath and forced myself to regain composure. Rising from the floor without assistance, I hastily brushed away my tears, refusing to let anyone see my vulnerability.

"I’ll make sure you pay for this, Keith. I'm going to sue you for everything you're worth. You’ll regret the day you ever decided to betray me."

I didn’t wait for his response. Spinning on my heel, I stormed out of the restaurant, leaving a trail of shocked whispers and curious stares in my wake.

The cool night air hit me like a slap, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me. My chest heaved with each breath, my mind a chaotic whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and despair.

I went straight to the parking lot for my car. And then I drive aimlessly. I told myself I shouldn’t cry. But I struggled to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Keith's betrayal, his lies, and that smug, unrepentant look on his face—it all swirled in my mind like a toxic brew. I needed to get away, to numb the pain, if only for a little while.

Before I knew it, I found myself parking in front of a well-known bar and club in the area. Its neon sign casts a garish glow on the sidewalk. The urge to numb the pain, to drown out the cacophony of my thoughts, was too strong to resist. It was a place I rarely frequented, but tonight it seemed like the perfect refuge.

“Good evening, Miss Grace.” the bouncers greeted.

Even in this unfamiliar setting, I couldn't escape recognition. Peripheral glances revealed a flurry of whispers and surreptitious snapshots, confirming that my presence hadn't gone unnoticed. The news of my recent outburst must have preceded me, spreading like wildfire through the grapevine.

But in that moment, I found myself caring less about the gossip and more about reclaiming my dignity. Let them talk—I had bigger battles to fight.

The bouncer’s opened the door for me. The dim, smoky interior is a welcome contrast to the glaring confrontation I’d just escaped. The bar was sparsely populated, a few patrons nursing their drinks, lost in their own worlds. The party scene hadn't yet hit its stride, so I counted myself fortunate to spot a handful of revelers already milling about.

I slid onto a stool at the counter, my fingers tapping impatiently as I waited for the bartender.

"A double whiskey, neat," I ordered, my voice sounding foreign even to my own ears. The bartender's eyes lit up with recognition, but any hint of a welcoming smile faded as he caught sight of the dark cloud hanging over me. His expression shifted, as if he could sense the heavy, ominous energy radiating from my presence. His eyes were sympathetic as he poured the amber liquid into a glass and slid it towards me.

I took a long sip, relishing the burn as it slid down my throat. My thoughts were a jumbled mess of anger and sadness.

Keith had drained my accounts, sold my assets, paid his gambling debts with my money and now he had the audacity to sit there, acting like I was the irrational one. How could I have been so blind?

How could I have been so utterly blind to his true nature? Was it my own naivety that led me to believe he would change, once he saw the sacrifices I was willing to make for him?

Damn him to hell. Why did I waste any effort on that despicable bastard? Why did I endure two years of agony, clinging to the hope that our marriage could still be salvaged?

How foolish I must appear to others now. They must view me with pity, a pitiful figure trapped in a web of my own making.

"Another," I demanded, the thud of the shot glass hitting the table punctuating my words. The bartender complied silently, pouring another shot of whiskey without hesitation.

By the time I reached my fourth drink, the alcohol flowed through me like water quenching a parched throat. My senses dulled, but a familiar face caught my attention from across the room. He sat a few seats away, his gaze fixed on me. It was only then that I noticed the club filling up with more patrons, the noise growing louder with each passing minute.

I narrowed my eyes, straining to discern the identity of the man observing me. In that dimly lit setting, every stranger seemed a potential threat to someone in my precarious position.

But then, clarity dawned, and I caught a glimpse of his face. Immediately, I looked away, my heart sinking at the cruel twist of fate. Of all the faces I could have encountered tonight, why did it have to be his?

Silvester Vasquez.

Although my name held weight in the show-business realm, Silvester, often referred to as Silver, commanded his own share of attention as a prominent bachelor in his domain. Yet, like me, burdened with a litany of personal issues, Silver bore his own cross.

Nearly a month prior, his name had been entangled in a syndicate and illicit dealings, casting a shadow over his reputation.

From then on, despite the fact that we knew each other through mutual friends, and had exchanged pleasantries at parties, I tried to avoid him at all costs. I have never considered him more than an acquaintance anyway. While other celebrities sought to cozy up to him and forge friendships, I remained an exception.

There was something about Silvester that intrigued me, an enigmatic aura I couldn't quite grasp. My instincts warned me to stay away from someone like him, and I trusted that gut feeling implicitly.

That’s why, he is the last person I wanted to see right now.

I turned my back to him, focusing on my drink. Maybe if I ignored him, he wouldn’t notice me.

But it seemed fate had other fvcking plans.