I Choose The Powerful Billionaire

I sat at the gutter, knees pulled to my chest, tears falling freely. The cold concrete pressed into my skin, but I couldn’t feel anything but the ache inside me. Why did I still love him? Why did I still kneel in front of Nora, apologize for something I didn’t do, let Dylan humiliate me in front of everyone?

I hugged myself tighter. The dignity I once had… gone. Crushed under the weight of loving a man who never looked at me the way I looked at him. Dylan had broken everything in me—my pride, my hope, my love.

There was nothing left. Nothing but this hollow shell sitting on the street like a fool. I loved him. God, I loved him. I believed that maybe, just maybe, he'd love me back one day. I deluded myself with fairy tales.

But the truth was always in front of me. He never loved me. He never looked at me even once. He loved her. Nora. His stepsister. I snorted bitterly, wiping my face with the sleeve of my coat.

Nora was right. I was a leech. I clung to a man who couldn’t love me, who used me. The truth was ugly, but I saw it now. Dylan only married me because his father would never allow him to be with Nora. I was the cover-up. The lie he told to the world. And I… I was stupid enough to say yes.

A pair of shiny leather shoes stopped in front of me. My breath caught. I looked up.

“Asher?” I whispered.

Asher Lincoln. Youngest billionaire and successful one in the country. My childhood friend and best friend.

He knelt beside me, eyes scanning my face. “What are you doing outside the hospital like this?” he asked in a cold voice.

I looked away, quickly wiping my cheeks. “Nothing’s wrong.”

He let out a low whistle. “Did you finally realize what a scumbag Dylan is?”

I turned back to him, defensive. “It’s not your business.”

The teasing in his expression faded instantly. His eyes sharpened. “Who slapped you?”

I hesitated, then lifted a hand to my bruised cheek. “I… I bumped into something.”

“I’m not born yesterday, Ivy,” he muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair. “I know a bruise when I see one and I know if it’s a slap. Don’t make me stupid.”

I stayed silent, ashamed. Yeah, I forgot that Asher doesn’t want to be treated as if he’s stupid.

“Until when are you going to be this stubborn?” he asked. “Your family is dying to get you back. And here you are, letting that lowlife raise his hand on you.”

“I love him,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. Like trying to justify what he did and my choice. “That’s why I left. My family didn’t want us together.”

“Of course, you were treated as a princess but then that bastard will do this to you?” Asher’s face turned cold. “And does he love you?”

I froze. My hands clenched tightly. I looked down and I couldn't look at his eyes. Because I know he will know immediately. No, he already knows.

“Answer me, Ivy,” he pressed. “Does Dylan love you?”

He reached out, tilted my chin harshly. “Are you sure he ever did?”

I slapped his hand away, suddenly angry. “It doesn’t matter! I love him!”

Asher stared at me for a beat, then laughed bitterly. “Then if you want to be treated like trash, why not let me do it? I’ll mishandle you the same way Dylan does, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

I stared at him, stunned. “You’ve changed.”

He smirked. “Everyone changes, Ivy. Even you. You used to be strong. You used to be fearless. The Ivy I knew would’ve never allowed herself to be reduced like this. I never knew that love will make you like this. You’ve gone weak.”

I glared. “I’m not weak.”

“Then prove it,” he said, voice firm. “Show me that the Ivy I grew up with is still in there somewhere. Inside that body.”

I looked at him, lips pressed together. I didn’t know what to say.

Asher… he was always there. Always beside me, supporting me in my decisions. My safe place. But for some reason he became harsh and cold. Someone I don’t know.

He sighed and stood, brushing his coat. “If you need help, come to my company,” he said softly. “I’ll be waiting.”

Then he turned and walked away. I watched his back until it disappeared around the corner.

The next day, Dylan didn’t come home. He never did after an argument. And it always started with Nora. By noon, I was in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. Trying not to cry. Trying to be normal. I couldn’t think. My heart ached too much.

Then my phone rang. I wiped my hands on a towel and picked it up.

Dylan.

I swallowed hard before answering. “Hello?”

His voice was calm. Too calm. “Come to Soleil.”

I blinked. “Soleil?”

“Don’t be stupid, I know you know Soleil,” he said. “Come. Now.”

The Elite bar. A place only the wealthiest could step foot in. My heart skipped.

“Okay,” I breathed, trying not to smile.

Maybe he missed me, that he wanted to make up, or he was ready to finally love me. But something deep in my gut twisted. I hung up and stared at my reflection on the microwave door and checked myself. Putting a strand of my hair behind my ear then smiled.

But then why was he calling me to that place? Why now? Still, I grabbed my coat. Hope, a foolish, and blinding hope, filled me again.

I stepped out the door. Unaware of the storm waiting at Soleil.