Billionaire's Perfect Revenge [18+]

FIFTY SEVEN

It would have been so much better if that man had just killed me on the spot. Because after being drugged and cuffed and dumped in a lonely forest shack, I was just hanging in limbo, crawling in and out of consciousness, having no track of time or place.

Every time a little consciousness hit me with a soft knock on my eyelids, I found myself in the same creepy wooden cabin. Laid on the dusty floorboards, my wrists and ankles tied and the entire space turned to exactly 90 degrees. It would take a hell long minute for my tardy brain to figure out the whole situation and by the time I would try to do something about it, hoping to get these ties off of me or maybe try screaming for help, my eyes would grow heavy all over again and the drug would knock me out one more time.

I had no idea how many hours had passed since that asshole ditched me here. Or maybe it had been days? He said this was like the game of hide and seek, so I was really hoping Maddox would know I was missing and was now doing at least something to find me.

Although I should be the last person to expect anything from him. When had he ever done something other than appease his own desires? Sure, he yapped a lot about being obsessed with me, wanting him to forgive and shit, but I still couldn't be sure how much of that he really meant it. Once bitten, twice shy—just like the common saying goes.

That man had burnt me too many times for me to find the courage to trust him.

Yet, you can't stop feeling what you feel for him.

I groaned at the audacity of my conscience. How could it still speak utter nonsense when I had literally been left here to die just because he couldn't get his head out of his arse? I was pretty sure this Richard Milton—whoever this demented person was—was only trying to be even with him. I could just feel it in my gut. Maddox had the terrible habit of making an enemy out of the wrong people. Just like he did with me. Sure, I turned into more of his mistress, the one he could fuck in and out of his life whenever he desired, but I was assuming not everyone would've let his asshole-ness slide, something I did so many times in the past, something I kick myself for every waking hour.

If only I had grabbed the opportunity and stayed miles away from him. If only I had accepted the offer and sold my home, instead of walking into his office and landing that slap in his face. I could have saved us from so much pain and heartbreak. But I had to be hard in the head and do exactly what any insane person would do under the circumstances.

Mom's concerns about my temper were never pointless. Even Brandon had tried to talk some sense into me, trying to make me understand how much my impulsiveness was going to get me in trouble. And it wasn't like I never tried to keep myself cool. But every time I told myself to mind my damn business and ignore the hypocrisy or unfairness every step of the way, something shitty happened and dragged me back to the drawing board.

But not today. I told myself that much. If I had any hope of getting the hell out of this godawful place, I had to be calm and attentive. I noticed that every time I opened my eyes and panicked, the drug kicked in and pulled me back to slumber. There was no way to tell if any of my conclusions were true. Maybe it was all in my head and there was really no hope of getting myself out of this hideous nightmare. But I had to try.