Billionaire's Broken Plaything - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
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Dash nuzzled against my hand, his soft fur brushing my skin as he woke me.
Trapped in a Marriage Fueled by Revenge
I stroked him gently, my chest tight. "Dash, what'll you do when I'm gone?" My voice cracked. "Do you think Clive will even care for you?"
"Meow."
He pressed his head into my palm, as if to say, Don't worry.
Then—the door flew open.
Tamara strutted in, her designer heels clicking against the floor, her massive dog trotting beside her like some obedient beast.
"This is my home," I snapped. "Get out."
She just smirked, sliding off her sunglasses with deliberate slowness. "Not for long." A flick of her wrist, and the leash dropped. "Buster, go explore."
The dog bolted forward, sniffing, knocking over everything in his path.
"Tamara, leash him!" I shouted as Dash trembled against me.
She rolled her eyes. "Like owner, like pet. Both pathetic." Then, with a cruel smile: "Buster, go."
The dog's ears perked. His lips curled back, baring teeth.
Dash shrank into my arms.
My heart lurched as Buster lunged. I threw my arms up, but he was too fast, too strong—
Then, in a flash of fur and fury, Dash launched himself at the dog with a fierce yowl.
"NO! Tamara, call him off!" I screamed.
But she just stood there, frozen.
Dash fought like a wild thing, but Buster was twice his size. The dog pinned him down, jaws clamping—
I clawed at Buster's fur, begging, sobbing—until Clive's voice cut through the chaos.
"Buster, STOP!"
He yanked the dog back, but it was too late.
Dash collapsed, his tiny body shuddering, his fur matted with blood. His weak meow pierced me—Mom, I protected you.
Tears blurred my vision as I scooped him up. "Hold on, baby. Just hold on."
I ran, my lungs burning, to the vet down the street.
But God was cruel.
I'd already given up on my own life—wasn't that enough? Why take him too?
"Courtney. What happened to Dash?"
Clive's voice sent fury boiling through me. I whirled and slapped him—hard.
"He's dead," I spat. "Because of her."
Clive stared, stunned, his gaze dropping to Dash's lifeless body. Then, coldly: "It's just a cat. Get another one."
Something inside me shattered.
I lunged, pounding my fists against his chest. "He wasn't just a cat!" My voice broke. "He was the last piece of us—the kitten we raised at the orphanage!"
My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
Then—Tamara burst in, wailing like she was the victim.
"Clive, I swear I didn't mean to!" She clung to him, fake tears streaming. "Courtney called me over! I thought she wanted to apologize!"
I gaped. "You lying—"
Rage burned white-hot. I grabbed the nearest thing—a stupid animal headband—and hurled it at her.
She shrieked, ducking behind Clive. "It was just a cat! I'll buy you a new one!"
My scream tore from my throat. "HE WAS MY FAMILY!"
I swung—but Clive caught my wrist.
Tears blurred everything. Then—laughter bubbled up, hysterical, broken.
"Clive," I choked out, "I'm already dying. How much more do you want to take from me?"
For a second, his mask slipped—shock flickering in his eyes. Then, ice-cold: "Stop crying. I won't pity you."
A drop hit his hand.
Blood.
My nose was bleeding again—worse than ever.
The room spun. My legs buckled.
The last thing I saw was Clive's panicked face as he caught me, shouting for help, his shirt staining crimson.
Trapped in a Marriage Fueled by Revenge
I stroked him gently, my chest tight. "Dash, what'll you do when I'm gone?" My voice cracked. "Do you think Clive will even care for you?"
"Meow."
He pressed his head into my palm, as if to say, Don't worry.
Then—the door flew open.
Tamara strutted in, her designer heels clicking against the floor, her massive dog trotting beside her like some obedient beast.
"This is my home," I snapped. "Get out."
She just smirked, sliding off her sunglasses with deliberate slowness. "Not for long." A flick of her wrist, and the leash dropped. "Buster, go explore."
The dog bolted forward, sniffing, knocking over everything in his path.
"Tamara, leash him!" I shouted as Dash trembled against me.
She rolled her eyes. "Like owner, like pet. Both pathetic." Then, with a cruel smile: "Buster, go."
The dog's ears perked. His lips curled back, baring teeth.
Dash shrank into my arms.
My heart lurched as Buster lunged. I threw my arms up, but he was too fast, too strong—
Then, in a flash of fur and fury, Dash launched himself at the dog with a fierce yowl.
"NO! Tamara, call him off!" I screamed.
But she just stood there, frozen.
Dash fought like a wild thing, but Buster was twice his size. The dog pinned him down, jaws clamping—
I clawed at Buster's fur, begging, sobbing—until Clive's voice cut through the chaos.
"Buster, STOP!"
He yanked the dog back, but it was too late.
Dash collapsed, his tiny body shuddering, his fur matted with blood. His weak meow pierced me—Mom, I protected you.
Tears blurred my vision as I scooped him up. "Hold on, baby. Just hold on."
I ran, my lungs burning, to the vet down the street.
But God was cruel.
I'd already given up on my own life—wasn't that enough? Why take him too?
"Courtney. What happened to Dash?"
Clive's voice sent fury boiling through me. I whirled and slapped him—hard.
"He's dead," I spat. "Because of her."
Clive stared, stunned, his gaze dropping to Dash's lifeless body. Then, coldly: "It's just a cat. Get another one."
Something inside me shattered.
I lunged, pounding my fists against his chest. "He wasn't just a cat!" My voice broke. "He was the last piece of us—the kitten we raised at the orphanage!"
My legs gave out. I crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
Then—Tamara burst in, wailing like she was the victim.
"Clive, I swear I didn't mean to!" She clung to him, fake tears streaming. "Courtney called me over! I thought she wanted to apologize!"
I gaped. "You lying—"
Rage burned white-hot. I grabbed the nearest thing—a stupid animal headband—and hurled it at her.
She shrieked, ducking behind Clive. "It was just a cat! I'll buy you a new one!"
My scream tore from my throat. "HE WAS MY FAMILY!"
I swung—but Clive caught my wrist.
Tears blurred everything. Then—laughter bubbled up, hysterical, broken.
"Clive," I choked out, "I'm already dying. How much more do you want to take from me?"
For a second, his mask slipped—shock flickering in his eyes. Then, ice-cold: "Stop crying. I won't pity you."
A drop hit his hand.
Blood.
My nose was bleeding again—worse than ever.
The room spun. My legs buckled.
The last thing I saw was Clive's panicked face as he caught me, shouting for help, his shirt staining crimson.
End of Billionaire's Broken Plaything Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Billionaire's Broken Plaything book page.