BETROTHED TO THE BILLIONAIRE

Valerie’s POV

I flutter my eyes open and shut them back almost immediately. My head throbs and my eyes are weak.

I try to lift my legs and I do so without any hassle. I try to lift my hands too and I did too.

When I drop them back on the bed, I become weaker.

Where the hell am I?

I open my eyes again to see nothing but white ceilings with huge hanging white fans.

Why is everything full of white? Where am I? Who am I?

I take a couple of deep breaths, then I feel a comforting touch on my hand. Before I can turn to stare at who the person is, a shout of triumph fills the air.

“Valerie!” I hear them shout till I can see their faces. I recognize two of them but one of the faces seems unfamiliar.

“My baby, please say something!” my mother gushes at me. Even if I do not recognize her, her actions alone are enough to give it away that this is my mother.

What happened to me?

She takes the hand touching me away and grabs me roughly, making me wince in pain. This is when I notice a cap on my head.

What the hell is a cap doing on my head here? I barely wear caps because I hate them. Anytime I want to take a shower and I decide to wear a shower cap, I always find myself tearing it off immediately because of the itching effect caps have on me.

Why am I wearing a cap?

Unconsciously, ignoring the two men staring at me with concern and my mother throwing a tantrum, I try to take the cap off but it won’t budge.Content held by NôvelDrama.Org.

Gritting my teeth together in complete irritation, I pull at it again until Mother screams and grabs my hand away.

“Take the cap off”, I growl and frown deeply. It is itchy. I want it off. She knows so well that I hate caps, why is she allowing them to put one on me?

“It’s not a cap, Valerie”, she answers with tears rolling down her eyes. “It’s a bandage.”

Bandage? Am I in a hospital? What happened to me?

Before I can try to remember what the hell happened that led to this, my dad appears with a sad smile on his face.

“My child”, he takes a hold of my hand. It feels soft but not as comforting as the first touch. It wasn’t my mother’s touch either, which means the other man was the one holding my hand.

He was the one who gave that comforting touch.

I glance around to see him standing beside Mother. When they notice I am watching him, he comes closer and smiles lightly.

He was looking unfamiliar earlier but now I find his smile familiar.

“How are you feeling now, Val?” he asks me in a deep husky voice that is evident of sorrow or sadness for years.

Did he cry? Who is he?

Wait, is this Fred? I know Fred and I broke up because Brenda slept with him. Why then did my mother allow him in when she knows clearly enough that I hate him with everything in me?

When I stare back at him, it turns blank and I ask slowly. “Who are you?”

Confusion fills his expression and suddenly, it is replaced with panic. Dad and Mom also gape in alarm and before I know it, they begin to shout out for the doctor.

I am also confused too. Obviously, this person is someone I ought to remember but I don’t know why I can’t remember him. I can’t even remember what happened to me.

The doctor enters in a rush with a petite nurse behind him. He urges them out and begins to attend to me.

I pay less attention to him because I want to figure out who that man is and how I got here. He places his hand on my head and I wince. He places an instrument on my chest and my head but I have no idea what he is doing until he moves away so we can face each other squarely.

He flashes me a bright smile. “How do you feel, Valerie?”

I try to nod but the aches in my head won’t allow me so I force myself to speak. “I’m fine.”

I can barely recognize my voice too. Is this how my voice has always been or has it changed?

“What is this, Valerie?” I hold up a pen as he asks with a smile still etched on his face, probably to make me feel comfortable and not insulted by his question.

Well, it sounds ridiculous because I am not a baby and I know what a pen is but I will answer him because I am in the hospital and I hope it will help me figure out who that young man is.

“It’s a pen”, I answer as I feel another weakness grips me.

He nods in satisfaction and then produces another item. “What is this, Valerie?”

I almost scoff. “It’s a phone.”

“What about this?” He produces a white item and I squint to know what it really is before answering him.

“A sheet of paper?” it sounds more like a question but he nods again in satisfaction which makes me heave a deep sigh of relief.

“What is your name, then?” he demands with a cheeky smile and with folded arms.

I can’t help but snort now. Even if I don’t remember my name, the way he called me a while ago and the way my mother kept calling my name is enough to give me an idea of what name I bear.

With confidence, I answer. “I am Valerie Adams.”

I am fine. Nothing is wrong with me.

He nods and gives me a thumbs up before he begins to instruct the nurse on what to do then carries out a few more examinations before heading out.

Mom, Dad, and the young man comes in again. They look calmer than when they exited the room and I wonder what the doctor told them.

The young man moves closer to me as our eyes meet. He does not tear his gaze away and I don’t do the same.

He has a lovely mustache with a straight jawline. His pointed nose and red lips give me an idea of who he might be.

He is definitely my type. Maybe we dated after Fred left.

No, that is not it, my subconscious opposes it.

I squint and watch him more carefully, then he touches me again and I feel the comfort that comes with his touch again.

“Valerie”, he squats down to my height as he rasps out almost breathlessly. When I am not responding, he rises and hugs me on the bed. My head is directly on his chest and I hear his heartbeat.

Unusual.

His heart is beating very fast.

He strokes my face carefully, and then it hits me.

Ryan.

I nudge him so he can pull away. I stare at his face once more and I am sure he is the one.

Without hesitation, I question him. “Are you Ryan?”

Relief washes through him as I see him slide away a lone tear. Mom and Dad also heave a deep sigh of relief.

He nods intermittently and holds my hand again. It feels so warm and so assuring and it sends a tingle down my spine.

Then I ask the very next question that comes into my head. “Do you know that Mr. Lorenzo is not your biological father?”

What?!” he exclaims sharply in disbelief.

Silence falls.

A pin drop can be heard. But then it isn’t a pin drop that I hear.

It was the chirping sound of a bird.

Then a phone crashes to the floor. And Ryan takes his hand off me as a horrified look replaces his expression.