The Billionaire's Bride: A Fate In Chains

Chapter 001

My ceiling fan whirled gently overhead, its soft creak being the only sound in my room. As I lay awake, watching its shadows change on the walls and feeling uneasy in my mind.

No matter the length or pain of my shifts, I typically had no trouble sleeping when my head hit the pillow at night. Tonight, however, was different: sleep simply refused to come.

And I knew why: the weight of yesterday clung like an extra skin, refusing to let go.

All it took was one phone call for things to start moving in the right direction.

Just after finishing my shift at the restaurant, exhaustion engulfed me like an invisible weight. My arms hurt from carrying trays all evening long while my legs felt heavy; all I could think about was falling into bed for some much-needed rest and recuperation.

"Hello, Dad!" My phone buzzed, and I quickly glanced down before responding.

But it wasn't my father's voice.

"Lena van Dijk?" A woman's voice cut in with firm and professional tones.

"Yes?" I instantly corrected myself.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Marjolein, and your father is currently under our care.

My throat began to feel tight. A lump has formed.

Nope. Not at all. Right on time." I promise.

That was no restful place to visit. The hospital was bright, sterile, and far too cold—my sneakers squeaked against its polished floor as I dashed inside while my heart raced against my ribcage.

I acted too hastily, colliding with a nurse near the reception desk.

"Sorry," I apologized.

She gave a knowing nod, as this wasn't the first time someone rushed in like this with panic on their face.

"I need to visit Hendrik van Dijk," I announced, my voice still quivering as I tried my hardest not to shake.

The receptionist barely looked up before signaling to one of the nurses to follow her directions, who gestured for me to follow along.

Through the small window of his hospital room, I witnessed him—sitting upright, arms folded across his chest, lips in an indefinable line of pressure on them both.

Argument. No doubt about it; he was debating.

My father spoke quickly as his hands moved wildly as he spoke, his expression set in its familiar frown. My doctor stood before them, calm but firm, as though used to dealing with stubborn individuals like my father.

Before entering, I sighed.

As soon as he saw me, his expression changed from grumpy to joyful in an instant. For an instantaneous second, I almost smiled back but quickly kept my composure.

Doctor Marjolein turned in response to hearing the sound of my door opening, giving me a professional yet sympathetic smile.

"He was lucky this time," she stated while shaking my hand. "We could have lost him completely."

These words sent a chill down my spine.

"I'll make sure he takes his medication and rests properly.

She raised an eyebrow, having heard this promise repeated over and over. "Your father is... persistent."

Simply stated. And this was taking the easy route.

After giving more instructions, she left, and I turned towards him, crossing my arms.

"Dad?!!

He replied in his usual pleasant tone; my emotions quickly rose as my own were expressed through anger at this risk to his life.

"Why are you risking your own?" I inquired in frustration.

"Lena, everything we do involves some risk. Even just getting up is an adventure; one never knows what will unfold before their very eyes." He sighed.

"That isn't the point!" I shouted back. "Why do you still push yourself when your heart simply cannot bear it?"

"Because I must work." He exhaled deeply before rubbing the back of his neck.

"No," I replied indignantly, "that's my job!"

He didn't respond, knowing full well what was being said was accurate.

Since his business had failed, I had been the one attempting to keep things together—taking late shifts, extra hours, and cutting back where necessary so we would remain financially sound.

I observed as he moved restlessly in bed, looking discontent.

"There's more to it," he murmured to himself.

Something in his voice made my stomach tighten up. "What are you saying?" I inquired.

"I borrowed some money," he began before pausing before speaking up.

"What for?" His voice barely rose above a whisper. "For business."

"Dad..." My chest ached.

Originally it was supposed to be a fresh start," continued Dad, "a chance for rebuilding. But things didn't turn out the way planned.

"How much?" I tried to breathe evenly.

He muttered something under his breath.

"Can you repeat what was just said?" I narrowed my eyes. "Why don't we go over that again?"

His shoulders drooped as he announced, "Five million is my budget."

My breath left my lungs.