Page 79 of Billionaire’s Heartbreak

He was there again. His hand reaching toward me, his mouth moving without a sound, and behind him—that boy. Except my mind had turned him into something worse. Something inhuman. He stood over Kai with a machete in his hand, smiling as though this were nothing more than a game. He raised the blade again, slowly, almost playfully, before bringing it down.

“No!”

The scream tore out of me. The spoons slipped from my eyes and clattered to the floor. Tears were already streaming down my cheeks, undoing whatever progress I’d made reducing the swelling.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Kai falling. Bleeding. Reaching for me while Sei Zai smiled. My mind kept inventing new ways for him to die. Each nightmare found a different way to make me watch.

So I stopped sleeping.

Closing my eyes had become more frightening than staying awake.

I couldn’t believe I’d once thought looking after Maru was difficult.

This was worse.

Then there was the fear that Kai might die in the middle of the night.

For days, I’d been trapped somewhere between nightmares and waking ones. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him dying. Every time I opened them, he was still there—breathing, but hurt badly enough that I couldn’t stop wondering if that breath might be his last.

I looked toward the sofa. The first thing I remembered after the attack was his shirt.

White. Then red. So much red.

I’d known immediately that he’d lost a dangerous amount of blood.

I pushed myself off the chair and walked back toward him. Kai hadn’t moved. He looked too peaceful. His skin was pale, paper-white against the dark sofa, and a chill travelled down my spine.

I crouched beside him and carefully placed one finger beneath his nose. Then moved my fingers to his neck. I closed my eyes and released the breath I’d been holding.

He was still alive.

I’d checked him so many times I’d lost count. And still, every time, fear crept back in.

The fear of losing him.

It was ridiculous. I’d seen people in worse conditions. I’d watched patients survive things that should have killed them.

But this was Kai.

A tear slipped down my cheek, then another. I wiped them away angrily. “Stop it,” I whispered to myself.

I left him to rest and headed into the kitchen. The silence felt almost unnatural after everything that had happened.

I filled a pot and put it on the stove. Millet congee again. Third day in a row. Something warm and easy to digest, ready for Kai if—and when—he woke up.

Then I reached into the pantry and pulled out a can of tomato sardines. Fish salad. Simple enough. I frowned at the can when I saw no pull tab.

I hadn’t needed a can opener until now, and I had no idea where it was. I opened the drawer beside the stove.

Nothing.

The next one.

Nothing.

And the next.

Still nothing.