The Billionaire Who Had Nothing

Summary

It wasn’t until I was shivering under a thin, threadbare duvet that I truly understood what it meant to have nothing.

The afternoon before, my father had sent a crew to strip my room bare. They took the designer rugs, the custom mahogany desk, even the curtains. By sunset, I was left with a cold floor and the echo of my own breathing.

In a cruel twist of timing, word broke the very next day: he had bought my younger brother a private helicopter.

"You’ve dragged our family name through the dirt!" The memory of him screaming in my face, veins bulging in his neck, still makes my chest tighten…