The Billionaire's Ex-Wife

Explanations Pt.1

Thank you to all of you guys who've been reading, voting and commenting, I truly appreciate all of them!

This chapter will reveal everything. Like literally everything so get your popcorn ready! Not much dialogue here tho just all of Blake's thoughts and explanations.

I hope you guys voted for BTS in the MAMA 2017 Awards. I am really thankful, if you didn't well thanks for reading my story and I hope you enjoy it!

Unfortunately we really aren't winning in the awards, hell we are freakin three million behind at the moment but oh well, we still love BTS to death and that's all that matters. There are always more opportunities! Plus we don't need an award to prove how amazing they are!

Blake's POV.

There wasn't a minute that passed did I not regret how I treated the woman of my dreams. I had pushed her away in the worst way possible. I had treated her with harshness that not even a serial killer deserved.

I had betrayed. I had swore at.

I had destroyed.

I saw how she slowly died inside. I saw how the spark in her eyes dulled out. I saw how she struggled to smile everyday. And it hurt me. More than it hurt her. I was a young and foolish. I had not appreciated the love of a woman. I had taken her love for granted. And the consequences were fatal.

Every night I would have nightmares. The same ones.

Over and over again.

The world of business wasn't all rainbows and cupcakes. It was a world full of blood, threats and deaths. Men would do anything for money.

Including murder.

My own mother herself had died from the hands of a gold-crazy man, who had mercilessly ended her life. My father had never been the same after that. He had fallen into depression, constantly drinking. It had taken many trips to the therapist and encouragement from James and I to build just the ghost of him.

It was an immense relief when he began to decrease his intake of alcohol, and his visits to work increased. He was slowly moving on.

He was getting over the huge boulder that was thrown down at him. The love of his life was gone. The mother of his child was gone.

And so was a fragment of him.

Even now, he still remained distant and I would catch him sobbing into his hands with a picture of my mother in his hands.

And so I had believed that for now things were getting better. Things were beginning to fall into place. But of course fate never took pleasure in our smile nor our frowns.

It wanted tears.

Merciless, buckets full of tears. Of pain. Of anguish. And still yet it wouldn't have been satisfied.

My mother had been raped.

Beaten. Suffocated. Taunted.

Every physical and mental abuse a human could apply to another was thrown against her.

We had been given the proof and information months after her death. Our uncle had hid the information from us, in fear of late recovery. He had predicted that my father would never get over the death of my mother after he had been given this information, so he had it concealed it well.

Even from us. The children. But like all lies would be revealed, the information leaked out.

I had came upon the folder.

I vividly remember the pictures that were stashed in the folder, every image etching deeply into my brain, horrifying me every night. I had been unable to sleep for weeks after the discovery. But I couldn't imagine the pain my father must've been in.

My father was lost.

He had simply given up. After he too had discovered the newest information on my mother's death, he just...vanished.

He didn't drink. He didn't do drugs. He didn't push people away.

He just disappeared.

The once happy, care free man I had once known slowly slipped from my hands.

Morning. Evenings. Nights.

He remained in the same spot I had seen every week, just staring.

He would sit out in the sun on a plastic chair, his arms strewn lazily against the arms of the chair, gazing upwards. He would never answer any of your queries if you approached him. The only memory of the man I loved was the physical replica of him.

There was no emotion. No feelings.

Nothing.

All the hard work we had put into helping our father seemed to perish away with him. The improvements we had made were gone in a flash.

But yet we remained determined. Determined to have our father back. The man that steadied our bikes as we wearily pressed down on the pedals. The man that tucked us in every night, turning the lights of with a smile on his lips.

The man we had lost.

James was the one who had aided my father to sanity. Yes, I had tried but had eventually given up after the scarce results but yet James still hung on claiming that all hope wasn't lost. I had doubted that my father would've returned to normal, but still permitted James to try, how futile his attempts may I have been.

Alison never knew what had happened.

James had claimed that she would be too caught up in situation. He didn't want her to be unfolded to the reality of the business just yet. He had always been much to protective over his daughter.

She never discovered the horror that followed my dreams. He would lie that he was going to conferences or meetings. I had agreed with it. The less who knew, the less who got hurt.

By then I had already taken over my father's company, The Ryders. I had allowed work to take over my life. Work was an escape from the horror that lurked in my life. It allowed me to dwell deeper into matters that weren't morbid.

I had become a workaholic.

I did have plenty of flings with women I had met for only days. They were also a release, but none of them meant anything to me. They were simply a toy that I would admire for maybe a night, before throwing them away. My friends had never been a fan of my 'lady friends', constantly making snide comments on them whenever we hung out.

I knew it was wrong.

But I wasn't anywhere near admitting it. I hated admitting that I was wrong.

So I had fallen into a the world of business and women. There was no happiness. Even when my father was finally brought back to life, I continued to remain cold and stoic. The death of my mother and lost father had struck a chord within me. I had relied on my parents far too much. I had loved to much.

I was the one at fault for my depression.

I fell too deep. So I distanced myself. From my father. Friends. I was afraid to get hurt again.

But then, months after my father's recovery, he remarried. I had been absolutely furious.

Did he not love my mother, anymore? Did he not care anymore?

I had refused to accept both my step mother and step sister into the family, making it plainly obvious that I hated the two of them. They resembled a replacement for my mother's empty space.

I would never accept them.

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So that was part one of Blake's explanation for all the shit he's done. Part two coming soon! ;)