Page 50 of Billionaire’s Cruelty

“Dannie’s uncle was busted for drug dealing and spent years in prisons. Now he’s finally out, and he wants Dannie to hand over the family businesses to him.”

“I see. What does your grandma think about it?”

“Grandma doesn’t believe a drug addict should be allowed anywhere near the family business.”

“He’s an addict?”

“He was—until he went to prison. But as soon as he got out, he was back on it again.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“He is loud. And he makes a lot of threats, you know? But people always do that with Dannie—and our family. I’m kind of used to it.”

I couldn’t help feeling sad for her. Growing up in America, my biggest fear had been school shootings—rare as they were back in my day. My parents had always thought I was being silly.

But for Laura, the threat wasn’t hypothetical or random. It was real. People targeted her family simply because of who they were.

“Will he hurt Dannie?”

I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that Dannie had to protect himself from his own flesh and blood.

“No,” Laura shook her head, “maybe he’d try, but no one can get near Dannie without being tackled down first.”

“What about you and Dannie’s grandmother?”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I like to think he wouldn’t hurt his own mother. But who knows? People do all sorts of crazy things when they’re high.”

“Has he ever tried to hurt you?”

“Only once.” She pulled her hands from mine, her voice quieting. “I don’t think he’ll try again. Grandma promised she won’t let it happen to me as long as she’s alive.”

“I’m sorry about what happened. You can tell me everything if you want to.”

“Maybe one day.”

When a loud crash echoed from downstairs, my patience snapped. I couldn’t sit there any longer. The elegant spread of treats wasn’t enough to hold my attention. My curiosity—and worry for Dannie—overpowered everything else.

Laura tried to distract me with idle conversation, but I barely heard her. Where I bought my clothes was none of her business, and frankly, I didn’t care where she shopped either.

“June, June!” She kept calling my name as I strode down the corridor toward the marble staircase.

All I knew was that if I couldn’t stop something bad from happening to Kai, the least I could do was prevent whatever was brewing downstairs. Whatever it was, I had to stop it.

No one seemed to notice my arrival. They were too busy arguing with each other in a language I did not understand. As I carefully snuck past the intimidating, tattooed men, I realized that most of them were carrying weapons—machetes, baseball bats, and what looked like the metal bars police used to control riots.

A sudden wave of anxiety crashed over me. It felt like I was walking a tightrope, fifteen stories above the ground. When I spotted Dannie, he gave me a slight nod, and his eyes never left me as I tiptoed my way to him.

Laura was gone. She had stopped following me when I reached the bottom of the stairs. I was just relieved I wouldn’t have to hear her telling me I shouldn’t be here. Anyway, Wendy would handle her. She had a way with people—even when her words were sharp and offensive, no one ever seemed to stay mad at her for long.

Finally, I reached Dannie’s side, feeling like I had completed an obstacle course. The only difference was that I wasn’t covered in mud—and this was far more dangerous.

The argument halted abruptly as a man in his fifties jabbed a finger toward me and shouted something. I had no evidence he was directing his anger at me, but the language barrier did nothing to ease my nerves.

“She only speaks English,” Dannie explained.

“Hello, bitch. You the wife?” the man sneered.

“Yes, and you are…” The words escaped before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted admitting I was Dannie’s wife in front of all these thugs. If they hadn’t known who I was before, they did now.