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The Kind of Love That Breaks You Novel Cover

The Kind of Love That Breaks You

Accused by his wife of causing her mother's fall to seize a jewelry empire, a man is sent to prison where his face is disfigured and his pianist hands are destroyed. Upon his release from the ordeal, he flees her influence and finds survival by relying on another wealthy benefactor. However, the woman who orchestrated his downfall suddenly changes course. This billionaire romance and mystery follows his struggle to escape a toxic past as his former spouse desperately pleads for him to stay.
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Chapter 2

Maeve quickly turned to Helga with a flattering gaze and said, "How would that even be possible, Hel? I was just messing with you. You know me. I've never been short on men. I just wanted to see if you're still a lovesick fool, if you'd actually teach some scumbag a lesson."

I was speechless. Helga and I had been each other's first and only love. When had I ever been a scumbag to anyone?

Still, the customer was always right, so I kept pouring their drinks in silence. My heart stayed calm as I served them like other customers with unusual tastes.

Helga looked at me, her expression unreadable.

"Feel like opening a bottle of wine?" I asked with a faint smile.

All I cared about was making the sale. Here I was, kneeling and pouring drinks for a lousy 500 bucks. If they weren't going to order some overpriced wine and give me a decent cut, I couldn't even be bothered to humor them.

"You!" She paused, then smiled in understanding. "Right. I promised I'd send some business your way. Bring out your most expensive liquor."

I mustered a smile bright enough to pass. "You got it. Just a moment."

After I called Arthur, he wheeled in a cart loaded with bottles and lined them up on the table.

I did the math in my head. My cut from these would be tens of thousands, enough to cover Mom's hospital bills for days.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped me.

Helga suddenly turned to me and said, "We'll never finish all this. You know I don't drink. So are you gonna drink for us, or should we use this expensive booze to wash your filthy body?"

"The customer's always right. It's your call," I replied.

Since she was feeling generous, I didn't hold back playing along. No matter how weird or twisted the request, I could handle them all. Money was just too damn hard to come by.

Just as I expected, Helga had her friends dump dozens of bottles of alcohol over me, one glass at a time.

Even with the AC running, I couldn't stop shivering. But I stayed on my knees, forcing myself to keep serving them without letting my hands tremble.

Ever since my injury, too much cold water would send my hands into agonizing cramps. Now, they were seizing up with sharp, stabbing pains shooting through them.

But there were still more than a dozen bottles left. My hair and clothes were drenched, liquor dripping from my strands onto the carpet below.

"That's enough," Helga muttered abruptly.

"I'm not done having fun yet, Hel," Zeke said, then upended a bottle of liquor over my head with a nasty grin. "He's the reason your mom's lying unconscious in the hospital.

"If you can't bring yourself to do it, I'll teach this gold-digging social climber a lesson instead. After marrying the prestigious heiress of Jesserton, he not only took it all for granted, but also made your life miserable."

Zeke gave the others a look. As Jesserton's heir, his authority was absolute, and they obeyed without hesitation, drenching me in more liquor.

"I didn't do it, Helly. I swear I didn't push Rosa down the stairs," I said.

I knew explaining was pointless, but I had to try every time this came up. Helga's mother, Rosa Redding, had always treated me like her own son. Why would I kill her over some inheritance?

By the time I got there, Rosa had already fallen. Every maid in the house accused me of pushing her. And of course, the surveillance cameras in the villa just happened to be down.

In the end, Helga had me arrested without a shred of evidence and dragged straight to the police station.

My buddy wiped out my life savings just to bail me out so I could see Mom before she got worse.

Helga slapped me across the face again. "Who told you you could call me that? I said never to call me that again!"

I stared into her eyes, burning with hatred, my chest aching. What else could I do to make her believe me?

We dated for four years in college and had been married for five. Did she really not trust me at all?

Did she think I was just some gold-digging social climber who married into her family for money like everyone else?

I was the one who wanted us to sign a prenup at the time, but Helga refused. She said she trusted me.

After we got married, I continued working as a pianist. The money I made was enough to support her, Mom, and me, with plenty left over to save. I never took a single penny from Helga or the Steeles.

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