New beginning: Billionaire love story

As the first light seeped through the warehouse window, Matthew groaned, feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. Every part of him ached, especially his wrists and ankles where the ropes had been digging in.

Blinking at the dusty sunbeams, he squinted around, trying to make out anything useful in the dimness. That's when he noticed a knife glinting on the floor, as if left there on purpose. His first reaction was to mutter a few choice words about Eligos and his goons. "Son of a bitch! He could have just left it outside the warehouse." Matthew muttered sarcastically.

His muscles ached, his cheek throbbed from last night's beating, and he could swear the left side of his face was swelling.

"Eligos and his goons...I swear if I see them again, I will kill them in a blink of an eye." he muttered, clenching his teeth as he scanned the ground for anything remotely sharp.

Then he saw it: a knife. And not just any knife - a shiny, suspiciously well-placed knife a few feet away. Was this a twisted game to them? He gritted his teeth.

With no other options, Matthew took a deep breath and forced himself up, despite the pain.

"They could've at least given me a running start," he growled, wriggling and shifting in his bonds. With a final roll and an awkward hop, he landed next to the knife, managing to grab it just enough to start sawing at the ropes.

"Come on, come on," he whispered under his breath, wincing when he felt the blade nick his wrist. A few cuts were the least of his worries. After what felt like hours, the ropes finally gave way, and he yanked his hands free, frantically untying his ankles. "Finally," he muttered, tossing the knife and yanking the ropes off his ankles. He shoved the chair away, wincing at the pain radiating up his leg as he stumbled to the door.

Stepping outside, the sunlight was blinding. With a huff, he fumbled through his pockets, relieved to find his phone still there. Good thing he'd switched it off last night before things got ugly.

Reaching his car, he swore again.

He breathed out a sigh of relief... until he glanced down at his car. Both front tires had knives lodged in them, flat as pancakes.

"Eligos, you absolute..." He stopped, exhaling sharply. No time for name-calling. He powered on his phone to a barrage of missed calls: ten from Claire, three from Sandra, and an irritated text from Claire demanding, Where are you? And a Call Back. "Oh, just fantastic," Matthew muttered, leaning against his car as he braced himself and called Claire back. He didn't even have time to breathe before she picked up.

"Matthew, where on earth have you been?! Why haven't you answered my calls?" Claire's voice was sharp, her frustration crackling through the phone like static.

Matthew clenched his jaw, searching for something to say that wouldn't make her more worried. "Hey, Claire," he started, keeping his tone as calm as possible. "I, uh, had a rough night."

"Define rough night, Matthew." There was a suspicious edge in her tone.

"Well, I-uh, I got caught up with an... unexpected visitor," he said, struggling to sound casual, but Claire wasn't buying it.

"Are you in trouble?" she asked, her voice shifting to something dangerously close to genuine concern. "Matthew, don't lie to me."

He hesitated, glancing around the empty warehouse yard. "Uh, okay. Fine. I, um, had a little car trouble," he finally said, hoping that was believable enough. "Got stuck out in the middle of nowhere. It took ages to get any help." "Car trouble?" Claire's voice softened, but there was still an edge. "And you're just now calling me back?"

"I know, I know, Claire, I'm sorry. Look, everything's fine now." He forced a bit of cheer into his voice, though even he could tell it sounded weak.

Claire sighed. "Alright, I'll let it slide this time. But are you sure you are, okay?"

"Absolutely," he replied with forced cheerfulness "Things with the company are just fine. Don't you worry." He grinned through his discomfort, hoping it came across as convincing. He didn't need Claire panicking over this, not with

everything else on her plate.

She was quiet for a moment, as though weighing his words. Finally, she spoke, and while she sounded calm, there was a thread of doubt in her voice. "Alright. But I need a full update when you're back."

"Got it. No problem at all." He tried to keep his voice light, hating every second he was lying to her. They wrapped up the call, and he sighed, staring at the damaged tires. This was not how he'd imagined his morning going.

After digging around in his trunk, he

finally found a spare tire and got to

a

work. "Last time I'm getting beat up in a warehouse at midnight," he

muttered to himself, fighting the net

bolts and his aching hands. By the time he finished and limped his way back to his apartment, he was covered in sweat, exhaustion tugging at every nerve.

Inside, he leaned on the sink, glancing in the mirror. His face looked like he'd gone five rounds with a brick wall, bruises darkening around his cheekbone, a small cut on his forehead, and his knuckles raw. "Sandra will have a field day if she sees this," he muttered, splashing water on his face before heading to the freezer for an ice pack. noveldrama

The idea of facing her, though, especially if she got a glimpse of his bruised face, made him shudder Slumping onto the couch, he held the ice to his face, grumbling, "Nothing a few days of hiding can't fix." Matthew was still nursing his bruised face when his phone buzzed again. Another text from Claire. Claire: Try not to get into too much trouble.

He smirked, typing back,

Matthew: Define 'too much' trouble.

After a few minutes of silence, he reached for his phone and typed out a quick message to Sandra,

Matthew: Working from home today. Just, uh, catching up on some reports.

The reply was instant.

Sandra: Just don't slack off!

She wrote, with a winking emoji that didn't do much to ease his nerves.

The whole ordeal had left him battered and exhausted, and the only consolation was that Claire didn't seem to suspect anything-yet.

Matthew groaned as he shifted the bag of peas over a particularly sore spot near his temple. "Next time, I'm bringing a stun gun or something," he muttered to himself.

He spent the next hour patching himself up, dabbing antiseptic on his cuts and popping a few painkillers. Every movement reminded him of the rough night, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Who knew that taking a punch could feel this exhausting?

As he slouched back on the couch, nursing an ice pack to his swollen face, he muttered to himself, "All this to keep Claire from worrying." Not that he'd ever say it to her face.

The minutes ticked by, his thoughts drifting back to Eligos and his smug grin. "Next time," he muttered, gritting his teeth, "I'll be ready for you."