Billionaire's Debt: He Despised Me, Then Desired Me

Ever since the accident, her adoptive father had been in a coma, and her adoptive mother rarely left his side at the hospital. The medical bills were covered by her biological parents, but their charity didn't extend to daily living expenses. Veronica had already drained her savings—the last of her five thousand dollars—on her father's surgery. Her wallet was as empty as her stomach.

"You're always going on about that guy, 'Big Ron'," Cody Bowman said. "Do you even know his name? Or what he looked like?"

"I remember his face, but he was unconscious," she answered, then trailed off, her eyes fixed on the bank of monitors. "How was I supposed to know his name?" Suddenly, all the color drained from her face. She pointed a trembling finger at one of the screens. "Him!" she gasped. "Look! It's him!"

She slapped the table and shot up from her chair. "I finally found you, you ungrateful bastard!"

"Whoa, hold on, Veronica!" Cody grabbed her wrist, stunned. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Of course!" she replied, already heading for the exit. But Cody stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

"Calm down. That man is Matthew Kings." He lowered his voice. "He's the heir to the Kings family, one of Bloomstead's four most powerful dynasties. The man is ruthless—he stops at nothing." Cody's grip on her arm tightened. "If he wanted to thank you, he would have done it by now. If he never bothered to find you, it means he isn't going to give you a damn thing. Your life is worth more than five thousand dollars. Just consider it a handout you tossed to a stray and let it go."

Cody's words froze her in place. Matthew Kings?

The Twilight Club was a playground for the city's elite. Even Veronica knew his reputation. Cody was right, but something in her refused to let it go.

She waited until one in the morning. When she saw Matthew leave a private lounge and head for the elevator, she slipped in right behind him. The first eight floors of the club were a sprawling bar, while the upper levels were exclusive hotel suites.

Inside the elevator, she studied him discreetly. He was a full head taller than anyone else, reeked of alcohol, and his handsome, almost unreal features were flushed an unnatural red. He looked like he was burning up with a fever, tugging at his tie as if his throat were bone dry.

The elevator dinged. The thirty-eighth floor. He stumbled out. She followed.

She had barely taken two steps out of the elevator when he stopped short. She walked right into his back.

"Ow!" "You—"

He spun around and grabbed her by the throat, his movements lethally fast. His voice was a blade of ice. "Who are you? Talk."

"It... hurts..." Veronica clawed at his arm, her vision already blurring from the lack of air. "Let go... I... can't breathe..."

Hearing her strangled, raspy voice, Matthew narrowed his eyes. He swatted the cap from her head, revealing her face. "You're a woman?"

"Y-yes..." she choked out. Her "male" voice was just a gruff affectation she used to avoid unwanted attention at the club. Only the staff knew the truth.

"Who sent you?" he snarled, his grip tightening. "Tell me!"

"I just wanted to—"

"You want to be my next wife, is that it?" he cut in coldly.

He'd sensed something was off all night, and he knew his drink had been drugged. Just another schemer trying to climb into his bed, he thought bitterly. Veronica's consciousness was fading. So this was how he repaid the person who saved his life.

"Fuck..." she swore, but his grip suddenly loosened.

She collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, her throat burning. Only then did she notice the corridor—a silent, silver-gray expanse of private suites, steeped in luxury.

Matthew was panting, his eyes bloodshot. "Do you know what I hate most?" he murmured.

She coughed violently, unable to answer.

"Since you're so eager to die... fine."

He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into his room, throwing her onto the bed as if she weighed nothing. Panic surged through her.

"Hey! W-what are you doing?"

He pressed a button on the wall. The heavy curtains snapped shut, plunging the room into total darkness. In the pitch black, she felt a rough hand tear at her clothes.

Veronica, a ninth-degree taekwondo black belt, lashed out, but her training was useless against his raw, overwhelming strength. "Let go of me, you psycho!" she shouted. "You dare play the innocent after drugging me?"

"You're delusional! I came here to get my money!" She fought back furiously. It was only when she felt the almost scalding heat radiating from his body that his words finally registered. Drugged. The pieces clicked into place far too late. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but he caught her without effort. Fed up with her screaming, he shoved his own tie between her lips. "Silence." That night, he brutalized her until her strength crumbled, leaving her to sink into darkness and surface in sobs, again and again. Veronica cursed him silently through the haze of pain. What the hell... Was he superhuman, or was that damn drug really that strong?

The next morning, when she finally opened her eyes, the sun was already high in the sky. She tried to shift and a wave of agony shot through her, as if her entire body had been crushed. The sticky feeling on her skin made her want to scream. Struggling upright, she saw that Matthew was long gone. A fresh set of clothes was laid out for her on the headboard. She stumbled to the bathroom, rinsed off as quickly as she could, and left the room without bothering to wipe away her smeared makeup. She had to find him. She needed answers.

But when she walked into the living room, she found a stranger sitting calmly on the couch. "Thomas Ritter, private secretary to Mr. Matthew Kings," he announced before she could even open her mouth. Seething, Veronica spat, "Where is that cowardly bastard Matthew Kings? Does he plan to just disappear after what he did?" The insult didn't even make Thomas flinch. He simply gestured to a small box on the coffee table. "My employer instructed me to give you this. Take the morning-after pill and leave Bloomstead. Or be prepared to pay the price."He paused, his eyes cold. "The choice is yours, Miss Murphy."

He already knew her name. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. He's already had her investigated. Matthew's methodical cruelty sent a chill down her spine, deflating her rage into a knot of fear. "I... I want to talk to him," she said, her voice trembling. "I saved his life. How can he be so ungrateful?" Thomas sneered. "What a ridiculous story. You really think he'll swallow that?"

"I'm telling the truth! That day—"

"Miss Murphy," he cut in, his tone sharp with exasperation. "If you want to avoid trouble, I suggest you spare me the fabrications."

The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh. For a second, Veronica thought Matthew might appear. Instead, an older, silver-haired woman flanked by two assistants emerged. Her dignified stride and imperious gaze were instantly formidable. Thomas immediately rose and inclined his head. "Good day, Mrs. Kings." Elizabeth Hutchinson swept into the room, her sharp eyes landing on Thomas before glaring daggers at him. "What are you doing here?" "I'm handling a personal matter for Mr. Kings," he replied respectfully.

Elizabeth's gaze shifted, landing on the box of pills on the table. Her eyes narrowed. "By 'personal matter, ' do you mean you're here to destroy a great-grandchild of the Kings family?" Veronica's mouth fell open. What? A great-grandchild? Her eyes followed Elizabeth's stare to the box. She finally understood what they were talking about. Wait... this was about what that bastard did to her last night, wasn't it? "It was Mr. Kings' direct order," Thomas murmured.

"Nonsense!" Elizabeth's voice was like ice. "Let that insolent boy dare come and repeat that to my face."