Billionaire’s Abandoned Sex Slave

Chapter 46 A better place



THREE YEARS LATER

Ophelia’s POV

I hummed to myself as I sauteed the vegetables in the saucepan. I slightly drew back as the oil from the pan spritzed toward me.

“Miss Ophelia,” One of my assistants, Isabelle, called me, and I tilted my neck toward her, “Yes?”

“The couple on table four have placed their orders. They want their usuals, baked flounder with lemon and butter,” She recited from the sticky note in her hand.

I nodded, “Okay, it will be ready soon,”

“That’s great,” She said before trekking out of the kitchen.

I got to work after I dished out the flambeed vegetables from the pan, and set them on a plate.

In a matter of minutes, I was done with the order. I set it on the serving table, took off my apron, cap, mask and gloves with a tired sigh

I loved being a chef. I mean, I sacrificed a part of me to achieve my dreams but nobody warned me about how stressful the job was, and how rude some customers could be.

My assistant strolled in with an empty tray and a disheveled appearance, I darted a smile at her, silently empathizing with her.

“You look so tired, Belle. Do you want to rest for a while? Kevin, Leah and I can handle the rest,” I suggested, moving closer to her.

She shook her head weakly, caressing her slightly swollen belly. “I took two weeks off already, and now that I just got back to work today, I don’t want to be lazy, Miss. I can do it, don’t worry about me,”

I fondly scoffed at her as I brought her to sit at the furthest corner of the kitchen, away from the kitchen equipment. She looked tired and weak.

“Sit here for an hour,” I helped her sit on the chair before I crouched down beside her.

“You look sick, and we both know you aren’t lazy. You are a hardworking person, Belle. Don’t say stuff like that. You’re pregnant, so you will definitely feel weak of course. And as the head of this kitchen, I won’t be selfish and ask you to work for me when you’re clearly not in the state to work. I will ask Spencer to give you today off, don’t worry about a thing,” I smiled at her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she clasped my hands, “Thanks, Miss Ophelia. Thank you so much, you’re always so nice to me even though I don’t deserve it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay your kindness,”

I chuckled, and caressed her hands, “It’s fine, Belle. I don’t need anything from you. The only way you can thank me is to take care of yourself and the little one inside you, okay?”

“Yes, Miss. I will,” She sniffled.

“When Kevin gets back from his break, tell him to take the order to the couple,” I said, to which she nodded.

I mirrored her nod and straightened to my full height before I stepped out of the kitchen to the dining hall.

My heart cut when I saw him. I faltered in my steps as I felt an ire bubble inside me as I stared at the unsuspecting man.

He was a regular customer at the restaurant but I avoided him like a plague, simply because he had a striking resemblance to him.

Everything about him, ranging from his refined mannerism, his impeccable dress sense and the wealthy aura he exuded reminded him of him.

The bastard who broke me. Ryan Torres.

I fled from America to London with Ava’s assistance, to get away from him but a part of him still remained stuck to my mind. I couldn’t look at wealthy men without glaring at them or feeling immensely disgusted with them.

I loathed them. The entirety of those cruel billionaire bastards.

Ryan had started a fire of hatred for men in my heart, a fire that’d never be extinguished.

I wasn’t a lesbian of course, I was just not attracted to men anymore. For the past three years, I hadn’t been on a date with a guy.

Hell, I didn’t even like stepping out of my condo. I lived in fear and hatred of men.

“Ophelia, do you need something?” My boss and the owner of the restaurant, Lucas Santiago’s voice drifted into my ears.

Lucas was the only man I couldn’t hate because I owed a lot to him.

I spun around, and feigned a smile at him, “No, I was just thinking about something,”

“Care to share your thoughts?” He asked, to which I shook my head in negation and chuckled.Content is © by NôvelDrama.Org.

“No, thanks. Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” I said.

“Oh, really? Let’s head to my office then,” He replied, to which I nodded as I sidled with him to his office.

I sank onto the sofa at the center of his office as I let out a sithe.

“Would you like a cup of chamomile tea?” Lucas asked, rummaging through the refrigerator.

“No, thanks. I’m okay,” I waved it off, and he nodded.

“So, what could the great Ophelia Alvarez want from me?” Lucas said, taking his seat opposite me, and setting his cup of tea on the glass coffee table between us.

I smiled at his tease, “Well, I’m here on behalf of Isabelle. Is there a way to reduce her shift or something? Walking around and hoisting heavy items all the time isn’t ideal for her condition. She’s getting quite heavy as the days go by and I’m worried for her,” I lamented.

“I’ve also been thinking about that. I’ll discuss it with her and I’ll see what I can do,” Lucas responded which made me smile.

“Oh, really? Thank you so much. You’re the best,” I said, giving him a thumbs-up.

His face flustered as he lowered his gaze from mine, “You’re welcome,”

“Thanks again, I’ll see myself out,” I said and got up from the sofa.

In response, Lucas just nodded which I mirrored with a grin before I exited his office.

I met Isabelle staring into space with a bottle of water in her hand.

I moved close to her, and gently patted her back to get her attention.

“Belle, I’m heading home now. Take care of yourself, okay?” I uttered, to which she nodded.

“Okay, Miss. Thanks again for today,” She muttered.

“You’re welcome,” I smiled, and gave her a last shoulder squeeze before I grabbed my bag and exited the kitchen.

I took the back door to the parking lot as I fished out my car keys from my bag.

I got into my car with a huge sigh before I stepped on the gas, and wheeled my car out of the parking lot.

Soon, I drove into the gated community of my condominium and got down from my car, after parking it in the designated area.

I strolled inside, nodded to the receptionist at the lobby before I stepped into the elevator and clicked on the twelfth floor, my condo wing.

I pressed the doorbell to the condo I saw immediately after I got off the elevator. I waited for the inhabitant of the condo to respond as I raked my fingers through my short auburn hair.

The door soon swung open, causing a smile to adorn my features when I saw him.

“Mummy,” My three-year-old son, Jeremy squealed before he flung himself at me.

I chuckled as I hoisted him up from the floor, and gave him a peck on his forehead. “Hi, baby,”

I smiled at my elderly female neighbor who was patiently standing by the door, “Hi, Daphne,”

“How was work?” She asked.

“Work was work,” I shrugged, to which she nodded before handing me Jeremy’s bag.

“Thanks,” I muttered as I positioned Jeremy in one arm, and slung his bag around the other.

“Good night, Daphne. Thanks for today,” I said, to which Daphne chuckled.

“It’s fine, Lia. He’s like my grandkid, you don’t need to thank me for watching over him. Goodnight to you,” She replied.

“Gunight, Miss Dafney,” Jeremy waved his short hands at Daphne as we trekked to our condo.

“Goodnight, my boy,” Daphne laughed before she slammed the door shut.

“How are you, baby? Were you good for Daphne today?” I asked, to which he eagerly nodded and darted me a cute gummy smile.

My heart went mushy with warmth as I stared at him, “That’s great, baby. Mummy will take you to the park by weekend,”

He gasped as his eyes widened in excitement, “Really? Do we get ice cream?”

“Yes, baby. Anything you want,” I reassured him.

“Yay! I love mummy,” With that, he planted a kiss on my cheek which made me grin.

“Mummy loves you too, my sunshine,” I whispered as we walked into our condo, and I set him on the floor.

I gazed at him with a bitter-sweet feeling tingling in my chest.

Yes, I didn’t kill him. I couldn’t bring myself to after I heard his first heartbeat.

I could only hope Ryan never found us.


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