Save the Billionaire

Chapter 04

I crept through the dimly lit corridors of the club, careful to stay unnoticed. I scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of my mother. And there she was, standing out like a beacon amid the subdued atmosphere. She was sitting alone with her attendants at bay.

Her attire was flashy, glimmering under the soft glow of the club lights. But despite her extravagant appearance, there was a noticeable air of discontent on her face. It was as if she didn't quite like the people in the club. She was looking at people head to toe and snickered after.

My eyes narrowed as I watched her interact with a man who approached her. I don't recognize him as I tried to remember people that I've met. The uneasiness of the situation settled heavily upon me.

I observed their exchange from a distance, trying to interpret the dynamics at play. My mother's demeanor was guarded, her responses short. It was evident that she was not at ease in his presence, in this club, despite the appearance of calmness she maintained.

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was looming. My mind raced with questions that I tried to avoid. Her love for money is well-known around the country. I know something is up.

But for now, all I could do was observe. The best course of action is biding my time until the pieces fall into place. And so, I remained hidden in the shadows, a silent spectator awaiting the unfolding scene before me.

I lingered in the shadows, watching as my mother exited the club shortly after the man she had spoken with left. With cautious steps, I trailed behind her, keeping a safe distance to avoid detection.

As she made her way to her car, with practiced ease I followed her, I slipped into the passenger seat beside her, my presence going unnoticed by her attendant.

"Hi, Mother," I greeted, my voice barely above a whisper but laden with the weight of the unspoken questions that hung between us.

She glanced at me, her expression a mixture of surprise and apprehension. "Carl," she murmured, her tone guarded.

Silence enveloped us like a suffocating blanket as we sat in the confined space of the car, my mother finally broke the silence.

"What are you doing here, Carl?" she asked, her voice tinged with resignation.

Her gaze was sharp and unyielding as she raised the topic.

"Carl," she began, her voice tinged with a hint of accusation, "what about that gorgeous man I introduced you to on that blind date?"

I couldn't help but feel frustrated as I confronted my mother about her constant attempts to set me up on blind dates. "Why do you keep me on those blind dates with those men?" I asked, annoyance evident in my tone.

My mother simply shrugged, offering a perplexing explanation. "I wanted you to enjoy your sexuality while young," she said matter-of-factly. "Besides, you don't need to get married and have kids."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Was my mother seriously suggesting that I should embrace casual dating and forgo the idea of settling down? It was clear that she had a very unconventional approach to relationships and marriage, deep rooted by her own experience with my father.

Come to think of it, I didn't seem surprised by my mother's response. As if I had anticipated this reaction from her.

As I mulled over my mother's words, I couldn't help but feel confused. On one hand, I valued her perspective and appreciated her desire for me to explore my options. On the other hand, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her reasoning than she was letting on.

I knew that my mother was a complex and enigmatic woman, capable of surprising me with her unconventional beliefs and manipulation that usually led to my suffering. And as much as I wanted to understand her motivations, I couldn't help but feel frustrated by her games.

I could feel the weight of her words holding down on me. I couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration. "I'm tired of all this," I muttered, my tone dismissive as I brushed off my mother's inquiry with a careless wave of my hand.

But my mother was not one to be deterred so easily. "How can you be so indifferent about it?" she demanded, her voice rising with each word. Those men are high quality. They are educated and achievers.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the weight of their argument pressing down upon me. "Are you not gonna ask me if I'm okay? I just got stabbed" I interjected, my voice barely above a whisper as I struggled to make my presence known.

But my mother's response was swift and cutting, her disdain evident in the icy glare she leveled at me. "It's your fault you got stabbed," she retorted, her words like a knife twisting in my chest hurt more than the actual knife of the thief itself.

I watched as she brushed off the topic, her attention shifting to a new target – her request for more shares in the new IT company that fell under the umbrella of the parent company I owned.

"Mother, it's late," I said quietly, "I have to go" Instantly the car stopped and left.

Her expression hardened, the lines of frustration etched deep into her features as she turned away from me. I knew she was angry and resentful of my refusal to engage in the discussion she had been so eager to pursue for months.

As I made my way through the deserted streets, the night wrapped me in its cool embrace, offering solace in the quiet stillness of the darkness. But even as I walked, my thoughts lingered on Iris.

As I gazed up at the moon. Thoughts of her consumed my mind, an unyielding obsession that refused to be ignored.

"How could I possess you?" I mused aloud, my voice barely above a whisper in the stillness of the night. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of my longing and desire.