The Billionaire's Angel

Chapter 17

**Chapter 17: Shadows Return**

*Francesca's P.O.V.*

I woke up to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sight of Xander bringing breakfast in bed. He placed the tray in front of me, a tender smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, sitting beside me.

"Good morning," I replied, feeling a warmth spread through me that I hadn't felt in a long time.

As we ate, we played the 20 Questions game. "Favorite color?" he asked.

"Blue," I said. "Yours?"

"Green. Favorite country to visit?"

"Italy," I answered without hesitation. "The food, the culture, the scenery... it's all so beautiful."

"I'd love to take you there someday," he said, his eyes twinkling with sincerity.

Later, as the morning drifted on, I broached the topic of returning to work. "I think going back to work will help distract me," I said.

Xander frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Please, Xander. I need to feel normal again."

After a moment, he reluctantly agreed. "Okay, but we'll take precautions."

The next day, we arrived at the office hand in hand. While I didn't want to go public, we compromised: we would be open about our relationship but avoid PDA within the company.

---

A week passed, and things seemed to settle into a routine. One afternoon, I received a call from the lobby. Someone wanted to see me, but they had no appointment.

Curious, and a bit anxious, I wondered if it could be the Vesprs. I hadn't had contact with them since the scandal broke. As I reached the lobby, I found no one there but a package with my childhood nickname, Franny, written on it.

Only one person called me that—my father.

My hands trembled as I opened the package. Inside was a severed bird's head and a letter with bold letters stating, "It's time to come home,".

I dropped the package, stepping back as screams filled the lobby. Chaos erupted around me, but I felt numb, frozen in place. Suddenly, Xander appeared, pulling me into his arms and giving orders to security.

"I've got you, baby. Everything will be fine. I will never let you go," he murmured over and over.

——

Back at home, as Xander tucked me into bed, the memory of that dreadful night flooded my mind, vivid and unrelenting, as if it had happened only yesterday. It was one of those nights that forever changed me, etching scars deep within my soul.

I was sixteen, sitting quietly at the kitchen table, doing my homework. The house was eerily silent, save for the ticking of the clock. My mother had passed away a year earlier, and since then, my father had spiraled into a bottomless pit of grief and anger, fueled by alcohol.

The front door slammed open, and I heard my father's heavy, stumbling footsteps. I knew he was drunk again. My heart raced, and I instinctively shrank into my seat, hoping to remain unnoticed.

"Franny!" he bellowed, his voice slurred and filled with rage. "Get over here!"

Trembling, I stood up and walked into the living room, where he stood swaying, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face twisted with fury.

"You look just like her," he spat, glaring at me. "Just like your mother. It's your fault she's gone!"

Before I could react, he swung his arm, and the back of his hand connected with my cheek, sending me crashing to the floor. The pain was searing, but worse was the humiliation and the terror that gripped me.

"Get up!" he yelled, kicking me in the ribs. I gasped for breath, tears streaming down my face. "You think you can just sit there and remind me of her? I'll teach you a lesson."

He grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet, and continued his assault, beating me mercilessly. I screamed for him to stop, but he was lost in his drunken rage. Finally, he threw me against the wall, and I slid down, curling into a ball, hoping it was over.

The next morning, I woke up in my room, my body aching all over. Bruises and cuts marred my skin, and every movement was agony. I dragged myself out of bed, knowing I had to go to school, if only to escape him for a few hours.

As I walked into the kitchen, I found my father sitting at the table, sipping his coffee as if nothing had happened. There was no hint of remorse in his eyes, no acknowledgment of the previous night's horrors.

"You're late," he said gruffly, not even looking at me. "Get moving."

I nodded silently and hurried out the door. School was a welcome refuge, but I couldn't escape the dread that hung over me like a dark cloud.

A few days later, I overheard a conversation between my father and a shady-looking man in our living room. I hid around the corner, listening intently.

"She's a pretty one," the man said, his voice oily. "Could fetch a good price."

"She's yours, then," my father replied, his tone flat. "I need to clear my debts."

Panic surged through me. He was going to sell me. Desperation clawed at my insides as I tried to think of a way out.

That night, as my father drank himself into a stupor, I packed a small bag with whatever essentials I could find. I waited until he was snoring loudly, then slipped out of the house, running as fast as my battered body would allow. I didn't stop until Violet found me.

When i met the Vespers, they took me in without hesitation, offering me the love and safety I had been deprived of for so long. From that day forward, I vowed to never let my father's cruelty define me. But the scars, both physical and emotional, remained, a constant reminder of the darkness I had escaped.

As the memory faded, I found myself back in Xander's embrace, his arms a protective cocoon around me. He pulled me closer, his voice a soothing whisper in my ear.

"I'm here now, Francesca. He will never hurt you again."