Arrogant Billionaire: Love vs Hate

Chap. 1

"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."
-Lao Tzu
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"Hurry up, honey! We've got a lot of miles to travel," my mom's voice echoed down the hallway, pulling me out of my daze. She stood in the corridor, with a look of urgency in her eyes. I glanced around my room one last time, the walls that had been a silent witness to all my years in this house—my sanctuary, where I had grown from a carefree child to a teenager with a heart full of memories.

Boxes and suitcases littered the floor, half-packed clothes spilling out as I hurried to finish up. We were leaving Canada, the place I had called home for the past nineteen years. My father had just been promoted, and his new head office was in New York, a world away from everything I knew.

"Coming, Mom!" I called back, zipping up my final suitcase with a heavy heart.

The weight of leaving sunk in with each step. My eyes scanned the room for the last time—the cozy corner where I had read countless books, the desk where I'd spent long nights studying, and the walls covered in posters and photos. It was all so familiar, yet now it felt like a part of my past.

Just then, a soft knock on my door made me turn. My grandparents stood in the doorway, their faces filled with warmth and sadness. They had come to say goodbye.

"I'll miss you, honey," Granny said, her voice breaking as she pulled me into a tight hug. Her frail hands shook slightly, and I could feel the sadness in her embrace. "Promise me you'll visit often, even if it's not that easy." Tears welled up in her eyes, and I quickly blinked back my own.

"I will, Granny. I promise," I whispered, holding her tight, not wanting to let go. She had always been there, two blocks away, baking me cookies, telling me stories from her childhood, and giving me advice no one else could. The thought of leaving her behind was harder than I had imagined.

"Hey, kiddo!" my grandpa called from behind, his booming voice a welcome distraction. "Where's my high five, huh?" His bright eyes twinkled with mischief, just as they always had. Grandpa never failed to make me smile.

With a grin, I slapped my hand against his, the familiar gesture comforting. "I'll miss you too, Grandpa," I said, pulling him into a hug. He patted my back, and for a moment, I felt like the little girl who had followed him around his garden, fascinated by the stories of his younger days.

"You take care of your old folks, you hear me?" he said, trying to sound tough, but I could see the emotion in his eyes.

"All ready to go?" my dad's voice broke through the moment as he hauled our luggage into the car. The trunk was packed tightly, every inch filled with boxes of our belongings. This was really happening. We were leaving.

My little brother, barely four years old, tugged at my dad's pant leg, his face scrunched up in tears. "Daddy, can't we take Miss Lucy with us?" he pleaded, clutching his fluffy toy cat to his chest. Miss Lucy was our neighbor's cat, and my brother adored her. They had been inseparable for the past year, with the real Lucy often curling up beside him during his naps.

My heart broke a little seeing his sad, tear-streaked face. "I'm sorry, buddy," Dad said gently, crouching down to his level. "But Mrs. Brewer will take good care of Miss Lucy. And guess what? When we get to New York, we'll find you a new kitty, just like her."

"Really?" my brother asked, his big eyes lighting up with hope.

"Of course, honey," Mom chimed in, planting a kiss on his cheek. "There will be a new Miss Lucy waiting for you in New York."

With that, he brightened up, hugging his toy close as he climbed into the back seat of the car. Dad started the engine, and with a final glance at our house, we drove away from the only place I'd ever called home.

As we cruised down the familiar roads, my brother was busy playing with his toy, completely engrossed in pretending it was the real Miss Lucy. I, on the other hand, found myself gazing out the window, soaking in every detail of the landscape I was leaving behind. The towering pine trees lined the road, their green needles brushing the sky. The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting dappled shadows on the asphalt. Canada had always been beautiful, and I loved traveling through its vast forests, where nature seemed endless.

For me, traveling was a kind of escape, a time to let my mind wander as the world passed by. But this time, there was a knot in my stomach, an uncertainty about what lay ahead.

Nine hours later, after an exhausting ride, we finally pulled into the small driveway of our new home. Our new house stood in a quiet suburban neighborhood. It was smaller than the one we'd left behind, but it had a certain charm to it. The rows of houses were neatly lined up, each one with a manicured lawn and flower beds bursting with color. The autumn leaves crunched under my feet as I stepped out of the car, breathing in the crisp air of New York.

But what truly caught my attention wasn't our new house—it was the enormous mansion next door. From my bedroom window, I had a perfect view of it. The mansion looked like something out of a movie, with its sprawling driveway lined with oak trees, elegant fountains, and a pristine golf course peeking out from the back. Luxury cars gleamed in the driveway, their polished surfaces reflecting the fading light.

"Wow," I whispered under my breath, completely awestruck. "We've got some seriously rich neighbors."

My mind raced with questions. Who lived there? What kind of life did they lead? My gaze lingered on the mansion as I unpacked in my new room. Though our new home was beautiful, I couldn't help but wonder about the world that existed behind those gates. A world I had never known, but was now right next door.