Chapter 7 - The Run-Down Apartment
The chaotic, toxic energy of his mother’s eviction faded as Preston drove deep into the poorest, most neglected neighborhood in the city.
He parked his massive, expensive SUV outside a crumbling, run-down brick apartment building. He climbed three flights of dark, creaking stairs and stopped in front of a heavily battered wooden door.
He took a slow, deep breath, perfectly calming his natural breathing, and knocked gently.
The door opened just a few inches, held back by a cheap security chain. Naomi stood in the narrow gap, still wearing her worn beige trench coat. When she saw the billionaire standing in the hallway, her face went completely pale.
"What do you want, Preston?" Naomi whispered, her voice shaking with pure, unadulterated terror. She instinctively tried to slam the door shut, terrified he had come with his ruthless lawyers to finally take her children away.
Preston didn't force his way inside. He slowly lowered himself down to one knee on the dirty hallway floor, completely ruining his expensive charcoal suit trousers.
"I didn't know, Naomi," Preston choked out, tears of profound, agonizing guilt finally spilling down his handsome face. "I swear to God, I never got the letters. My mother hid them from me."
Naomi froze, her hand gripping the edge of the wooden door so hard her knuckles turned white.
May you like
"You didn't know?" she asked, her voice cracking with the heavy, traumatic weight of five years of suffering.
👉 Preston reached into his jacket, preparing to hand over the ultimate proof of his absolute loyalty.
