Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 57 (Marcus & Kylie)

No father wants to hear the things I've heard tonight, or see those videos that arrived in my office four

nights ago.

I never raised my kids to be weak, I have never promised my kids childish things.

Kylie will always be my eldest, but still somehow managed to stay my baby. I never loved Hunter but

the day I saw my Kylie in her arms I knew that I would do anything for that little girl.

She's always been something special, riding life as it comes, knocking it down, wall for wall.

She reminds me of myself- driven, ambitious, tough.

Now I see my baby in my arms after three years because deep down she knew loving him was wrong.

She never could face me when she had secrets.

Parenting doesn't come with a handbook full of all the answers, especially if you have kids like mine.

It isn't an easy job, and that just tells you how important a job it is.

When my kids need me I know when to step in, and when they don't I hide in the shadows, keeping my

eyes on them, watching them fall, so they can get back up stronger.

It never gets easy.

But now, tragedy has struck my baby, she was raped, beaten, tortured, and all that time we searched

for her.

When I finally got the information about Beggar's whereabouts I phoned Kevin, always the savior.

It wasn't long when they found my girl.

Only I know she isn't my baby any longer. I can see it in her eyes, and it is going to kill me when I let

her go.

But I have to.

Kylie has always been the strongest of my kids, the one who will survive, and I need her to make these

choices on her own.

Deep down she knows what she has to do. And when she's ready I will be waiting.

Kylie

It's been a month since I have seen papa. I spent a week with him, just remembering the good ole days

living a good ole fashion life.

Until he came for me. It was exactly seven days, one week gone that Vincent came to my father's

penthouse. Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

I've never seen him so disheveled as he was that afternoon.

I still remember it as though it was yesterday.

I was sitting in my bedroom when I heard a commotion. My long jersey barely enough to cover the tops

of my thighs.

Running toward the shouting voice I stopped, my mind aghast with the vision before me.

It was Vincent, he had stubble on his jaw, his eyes bloodshot, his hair unkempt and I just stood there in

my father's foyer.

I wouldn't have left the safety of papa's penthouse if not for Vincent's words and the little stick he held

in his hand.

“You're pregnant,” those two words would've been true, except I wasn't.

It didn't belong to me. It belonged to the one person who visited in my stay at Vincent's suite. Where

secrets are kept it was one I was taking to my grave.

So I didn't dispute his findings. But one look at papa he knew my reasons why I lied, he also knew I

couldn't be pregnant.

And he didn't stop me when I left with Vincent, papa wished me farewell.

That was a month ago. I am not sure what I expected to change with my little lie, my false promise to

yet another man, but nothing did. Vincent still tortures more people, he still kills more men.

Except now, I am no longer numb, I am once again in love with this man, who will not love me back.

Only difference is, he feeds my addiction, he has become a disease to my mind, a sickness that I won't

get rid of.

I hate myself, more and more for it, everyday that goes by.

When he takes lives and fucks me in front of them, I am alive, I am not in that induced state after our

cold heartless sick fucking.

I feel the filth of the act, I feel the pain of a sinner.

I get home and scrub my body. I scrub until I am red until I am bleeding.

But I won't stop him. I should, I need to, but I won't.

Vincent's beauty isn't spellbinding or shattering, when Vincent touches my body it is crippling.

I need him, but I know I shouldn't. My mind and heart fight a constant battle every day.

No one can understand my feelings for Vincent, because I don't understand them anymore myself.

I just know that I have to have him, even if it is killing me inside.

When is the right time to say enough? When is the right time to stop the one you have loved for so long

and even in your darkest hours turn to?