A Billionaire Paid Me To Destroy Her Son’s Life — But I Fell In Love With Him Instead
Part 2
I forced myself to look away from the silver band and meet his hopeful gaze.
The silence in the tattoo shop stretched on, thick and suffocating.
Tyler’s smile faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing his dark features.
“Megan?” he asked softly, reaching out to touch my arm.
I took a deliberate step back, out of his reach.
Every instinct screamed at me to close the distance and throw my arms around him.
Instead, I dug my fingernails into my palms until the pain grounded me.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, keeping my voice as flat as possible.
He blinked, lowering the velvet box slightly.
“Can’t do what?
Move in?
We can take it slow, I just thought—”
“Any of it,” I interrupted, forcing a coldness I didn’t feel into my tone.
“I’ve been faking it, Tyler.”
The air vanished from the room.
He stared at me, the color draining from his face completely.
“What are you talking about?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, picturing my mother’s frail form in the hospital bed.
“Honestly, I never loved you,” I lied, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.
“I was just… passing time.”
He flinched as if I had struck him across the face.
The vulnerability in his eyes shattered, replaced by a raw, devastating agony.
He looked down at the velvet box, his hands trembling as he snapped it shut.
“Get out,” he rasped, his voice barely recognizable.
I didn’t wait for him to repeat it.
Turning on my heel, I walked out of the shop, leaving the only man I had ever loved standing alone in the shadows.
For a year, I kept moving, terrified Brenda would find a reason to cut my mother’s funding.
I took odd jobs in different cities, never staying in one place long enough to put down roots.
My mother’s health stabilized, the new treatments working miracles just like the doctors promised.
I tried to convince myself that the sacrifice was worth it.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tyler’s broken expression in the dim light of the parlor.
I resigned myself to a life of ghosts, believing I would never see him again.
But when I walked out of my mother’s new care facility on a rainy Tuesday, I froze in my tracks.
A familiar figure was leaning against a black motorcycle in the parking lot.
But what was he doing here, and how much did he know?
Part 3
Tyler stood completely still beside the heavy black motorcycle, the relentless rain soaking through his worn leather jacket.
Megan clutched her damp purse to her chest, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs like a trapped bird.
She had spent a grueling, agonizing year running from this exact moment, terrified of the wreckage she had left behind.
Every city she had moved to, every diner she had worked in, was just a temporary hiding place from the ghost of her past.
He pushed away from the heavy bike, his heavy boots splashing in the shallow puddles of the clinic parking lot.
The streetlights caught the silver hardware on his jacket, casting sharp reflections in the dark puddles.
“You’re a difficult woman to track down, Megan,” Tyler said, his voice carrying clearly over the steady drumming of the storm.
Megan took a defensive, trembling step backward, her eyes darting nervously toward the clinic’s glass entrance.
The automatic doors were just a few yards away, but her feet felt glued to the wet asphalt.
“You shouldn’t be here, Tyler.”
“My mother’s accountant makes a lot of careless mistakes,” he continued, completely ignoring her weak protest.
“Like leaving a glaring trail of offshore wire transfers to a private medical facility under a dummy shell company.”
The breath left Megan’s lungs in a violent, sudden rush.
He knew.
Tyler walked closer, stopping just inches away, his dark eyes searching every inch of her pale, rain-streaked face.
“Why didn’t you just tell me the truth, Megan?”
She looked down at the wet ground, entirely unable to meet his intense, searching gaze.
“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Tyler reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently lifting her chin.
“It changes absolutely everything.”
He knew about the ten million dollars, the vicious blackmail, the impossible choice she had been forced to make.
The cruel, deliberate lie she had told to break his heart was finally unraveling in the rain.
To fully understand how they had reached this desolate parking lot, one had to go back to the very beginning.
Back to the fateful afternoon Megan had sold her soul to save her dying mother’s life.
The polished mahogany table in the penthouse suite had felt ice-cold under Megan’s trembling fingertips.
Brenda sat across from her, perfectly poised in a sharply tailored designer suit that screamed old money.
The older woman radiated a terrifying, calculated power that seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the sprawling room.
Megan shifted uncomfortably in her cheap, frayed cardigan, hyper-aware of the stark difference in their disparate worlds.
A piece of crisp, heavy paper lay in the center of the table between them, bearing a number that seemed entirely fictional.
Ten million dollars.
“My son has spent the last three years playing at being a starving, rebellious artist,” Brenda said, her tone laced with heavy disdain.
“He honestly thinks he can build a life without the family name, wasting his considerable potential in some filthy downtown parlor.”
Megan kept her hands folded tightly in her lap, desperately hiding the slight tremor in her fingers.
“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with me.”
Brenda offered a thin, mirthless smile that didn’t reach her cold, calculating eyes.
“You are going to help him realize the grave error of his ways.”
She pushed the heavy paper check a deliberate inch closer to Megan’s side of the table.
“Make my foolish son fall for you, Megan.
Become his whole entire world.”
The silence in the penthouse stretched, feeling thick and incredibly suffocating.
“Then, when he’s completely devoted to you, crush him without mercy.”
Megan stared at the wealthy woman, entirely horrified by the casual, casual cruelty of the bizarre request.
“You actually want me to purposefully break his heart?”
“I want him broken,” Brenda corrected sharply, her voice brooking no argument.
“Broken enough to realize he needs his family’s safety net, to crawl back and take his rightful place at the head of the company.”
Megan swallowed hard, the tragic image of her mother’s fragile, failing body flashing violently in her mind’s eye.
The specialized doctors had given her barely three months to live unless they could afford an experimental new trial.
This trial cost significantly more money than Megan could ever hope to earn in a lifetime of waiting tables and cleaning houses.
She reached out with a trembling hand, her fingers brushing the stiff edge of the life-saving check.
“Consider it done.”
The heavy brass bell above the wooden door chimed, cutting sharply through the heavy hum of tattoo machines.
‘Ink & Iron’ was exactly as Brenda had disdainfully described, though perhaps slightly rougher around its worn edges.
The brick walls were entirely covered in intricate, framed sketches, the air thick with the distinct smell of green soap and strong antiseptic.
A man with bright blue hair looked up from the clutter of the front counter, raising an amused eyebrow.
“Can I help you miss?”
Craig asked, casually wiping a dark smudge of fresh ink from his cheek.
“I’m here about the assistant position,” Megan said, clutching her thin resume tightly to her chest.
Craig let out a low, appreciative whistle, glancing toward the shadows of the back room.
“Hey, Tyler!
We got a live one applying for the front desk!”
A tall, broad-shouldered figure slowly emerged from the deep shadows of the back room.
Tyler was undeniably striking, with dark hair falling carelessly over his forehead and a strong jawline.
His muscular arms were covered in beautiful, sprawling artwork that seemed to tell a thousand different, complex stories.
He looked absolutely nothing like the polished, boring corporate heir Brenda had described in her penthouse.
Tyler wiped down a black leather client chair with a rag, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line.
“Shop’s closed for the night,” he muttered gruffly, not even bothering to look directly at her.
“The handwritten sign in the window clearly says you need an assistant,” Megan pressed, leaning slightly against the wooden doorframe.
Tyler finally turned around, slowly sizing up her incredibly neat hair and plain, conservative sweater.
“You wouldn’t last a single, solitary day in here.”
Megan stepped further into the dimly lit room, lifting her chin in stubborn defiance.
“Try me.”
Tyler stared at her for a long, heavy moment, his dark eyes entirely unreadable.
“Minimum wage to start.
You clean the stations perfectly, manage the books, and deal with all the walk-ins.”
“I can start tomorrow morning,” Megan replied smoothly, hiding her relief.
As she walked back out into the cool evening air, immense guilt gnawed terribly at the edges of her conscience.
The first piece of Brenda’s cruel, calculated trap had been successfully set.
For the next three grueling months, Megan practically lived at the busy shop.
She quickly learned the unique rhythm of the parlor, anticipating Tyler’s demanding needs before he even spoke a word.
Megan skillfully organized his chaotic appointment book, scrubbed his stainless stations until they shined, and brought him bitter black coffee every morning.
Tyler was fiercely guarded and private, building defensive walls so high she genuinely thought she would never scale them.
He spent long hours sketching in total silence, pouring all his unresolved grief and pain into his intricate art.
Craig was significantly easier to read, easily filling the quiet moments with terrible jokes and gossip about the local neighborhood.
But Megan’s intense focus always drifted uncontrollably back to Tyler.
She watched him work from the front desk, fascinated by the incredibly gentle, patient way he handled his most nervous clients.
He clearly wasn’t the selfish, rebellious runaway his mother had painted him to be during their meeting.
Tyler was just a wounded man trying to carve out a meaningful life on his own terms, desperate for a sliver of genuine freedom.
Slowly, agonizingly, the thick ice between them started to thaw.
It began with very small things—a lingering glance over the open appointment book, a shared, genuine smile when a difficult client finally left the building.
Then came the quiet, late-night takeout dinners sitting on the shop floor.
They would sit cross-legged on the worn linoleum, eating cold noodles and talking until the early, quiet hours of the morning.
He told her about his father’s sudden, tragic death, the event that had completely shattered his privileged world.
Tyler described the suffocating, relentless pressure of his mother’s massive empire, how she tried to meticulously control every aspect of his existence.
“Ink is completely permanent,” Tyler had said one night, thoughtfully tracing a pattern on the dusty floor.
“It’s the only thing in my entire life that no one can take away, buy, or change.”
Megan had found herself leaning in closer, genuinely captivated by the intelligent, passionate man beneath the tough exterior.
She started eagerly looking forward to his rare, crooked smile more than anything else in her entire day.
The cold, calculated blackmail plan she had agreed to felt entirely surreal, an ugly ghost haunting her waking hours.
She was deeply, fundamentally terrified of the inevitable day Brenda would call to ruthlessly collect her due.
A heavy, violent thunderstorm aggressively rolled into the city one late Tuesday evening.
The driving rain battered the large front window of the shop, the harsh wind howling loudly down the empty street.
With a sharp, deafening crack of thunder, the neighborhood power went out, instantly plunging the parlor into absolute darkness.
Megan gasped aloud, her hands blindly reaching out for the solid edge of the wooden counter.
“Stay exactly where you are,” Tyler’s voice called out from the darkness, sounding incredibly low and steady.
A moment later, the warm, flickering glow of a silver lighter flared to life, illuminating his sharp, handsome features.
He quickly lit several thick pillar candles around the room, casting dancing, erratic shadows against the flash art on the walls.
They sat down together on the floor near the large front window, the raging storm creating a private, isolated world just for the two of them.
The silence between them was heavy and loaded, highly charged with an unspoken tension that had been slowly building for months.
Tyler reached out, his ink-stained fingers gently, almost reverently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Megan’s pale cheek.
The simple, gentle contact sent a massive jolt of electricity straight to her racing heart.
“I’ve truly never met anyone quite like you, Megan,” he murmured softly.
His dark eyes deliberately dropped to her lips, lingering there with a quiet, burning intensity.
“You see right through the tough guy act.
You actually see me.”
Megan’s chest tightened with a sharp, terrifying pang of overwhelming guilt.
If only he knew the incredibly ugly truth about why she was really sitting there with him.
If he knew she had been effectively bought and paid for by the toxic mother he despised, he would throw her out into the raging storm.
She desperately wanted to confess, to spill the entire toxic, damning secret onto the floor between them right then and there.
But Tyler leaned in significantly closer, his breathing growing shallow, effectively cutting off her panicked train of thought.
His lips met hers in a incredibly slow, desperate kiss that instantly shattered every single defense she had left.
Megan eagerly kissed him back, pouring every ounce of her true, messy, complicated feelings into the heated moment.
Her hands instinctively tangled in his thick dark hair, pulling his body much closer to hers.
The distinct lines between her paid corporate assignment and her actual reality completely, utterly vanished.
She was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with the exact man she was hired to completely destroy.
The next few fleeting weeks passed in a blissful, incredibly fragile romantic bubble.
Tyler was fiercely protective of her, treating Megan with a gentle tenderness she had never once experienced before in her life.
He started carefully sketching a beautiful custom design for her wrist during his brief lunch breaks.
It was a highly delicate vine, heavily symbolizing personal growth and beautiful new beginnings.
He would softly trace the invisible, imaginary lines on her skin, his light touch sending intense shivers down her spine.
Megan diligently visited her mother at the private clinic on weekends, quietly paying for the specialized care with the first hefty installment of Brenda’s money.
The medical results were absolutely undeniable; her mother looked vastly healthier than she had in several years.
Her previously sunken cheeks were beautifully flushed with returning color, and she was finally able to walk around the facility’s gardens.
Everything in Megan’s world felt impossibly perfect, a highly delicate house of cards built entirely on a weak foundation of lies.
Megan foolishly deluded herself into genuinely believing she could somehow find a clever way out, a way to keep Tyler and completely save her mother.
She really should have known better than to completely underestimate the ruthless Brenda White.
The cheap burner phone hidden in Megan’s pocket vibrated violently on a quiet Thursday afternoon.
Tyler was in the back room meticulously cleaning his tattoo equipment, humming a soft tune to himself.
Megan quickly slipped out the side door into the narrow, damp alleyway, pressing the phone urgently to her ear.
Brenda’s incredibly sharp, commanding voice cut straight through the static before Megan could even speak a single word.
“The generous grace period is officially over, Megan.”
Megan squeezed her eyes tightly shut against the incredibly cold wind violently whipping down the narrow alley.
“He’s stubbornly turned down two lucrative corporate mergers this week because he flatly refuses to leave that filthy shop,” Brenda continued furiously.
Megan gripped the rough, abrasive brick wall for physical support, her knuckles rapidly turning stark white.
“He’s genuinely happy here, Brenda.
He’s successfully building a real, meaningful life.”
“I do not pay you for his personal happiness,” the older woman snapped viciously.
Her tone turned instantly, chillingly lethal, stripping away any lingering pretense of polite civility.
“Break his pathetic heart tonight, or I will permanently pull the funding for your mother’s clinic first thing tomorrow morning.”
The massive threat hung heavily in the freezing air, incredibly cold and absolutely absolute.
“You wouldn’t actually do that,” Megan whispered, her voice cracking with pure terror.
“Try me and find out,” Brenda countered flatly, completely devoid of empathy.
The line went entirely dead, leaving Megan staring blankly at the dark screen of the cheap phone.
This fragile house of cards was rapidly collapsing, and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop the incoming destruction.
Megan walked slowly back inside the shop, her legs feeling as heavy as solid lead blocks.
The previously warm, inviting atmosphere of the busy parlor suddenly felt exactly like a cold, sterile tomb.
Heavy footsteps sounded directly behind her as Tyler excitedly emerged from the back room.
He was carefully holding a small, pristine velvet box in his open palm, his expression incredibly nervous but positively glowing.
His dark eyes held a raw, beautiful vulnerability that completely stole the breath straight from Megan’s lungs.
“Megan,” he started slowly, his deep voice thick with uncharacteristic, heavy emotion.
“I know we honestly haven’t been together all that long, but you’re absolutely my everything.”
He slowly opened the box, proudly revealing a simple, incredibly perfect silver band.
“Will you please move in with me?”
Megan’s vision rapidly blurred as hot tears aggressively threatened to spill over her dark lashes.
She stared intensely at the silver band, the physical manifestation of a beautiful future she desperately, desperately wanted.
But she had to save her innocent mother’s fragile life.
She violently forced herself to look away from the gleaming ring and meet his incredibly hopeful gaze.
The deafening silence in the tattoo shop stretched on indefinitely, feeling incredibly thick and utterly suffocating.
Tyler’s bright smile slowly faltered, a distinct flicker of deep confusion crossing his handsome, dark features.
“Megan?” he asked very softly, gently reaching out to touch her rigid arm.
She took a highly deliberate, defensive step back, completely out of his physical reach.
Every single natural instinct screamed at her to quickly close the physical distance and tightly throw her arms around him.
Instead, she viciously dug her fingernails into her own palms until the sharp, grounding pain cleared her mind.
“I absolutely can’t do this,” she whispered, desperately keeping her voice as flat and emotionless as humanly possible.
Tyler blinked rapidly, slowly lowering the velvet box slightly as confusion morphed into concern.
“Can’t do what exactly?
Move in together?
We can totally take it slow, I just honestly thought—”
“Any of it,” Megan violently interrupted, heavily forcing a brutal coldness she didn’t actually feel into her wavering tone.
She looked him completely dead in the eye, fully delivering the absolute killing blow.
“I’ve been totally faking it the entire time, Tyler.”
The breathable air seemingly vanished from the entire room.
Tyler stared at her in total shock, the healthy color completely draining from his handsome face.
“What exactly are you talking about?”
Megan aggressively swallowed the painful lump in her throat, vividly picturing her mother’s frail form lying in the hospital bed.
“Truthfully, I never actually loved you,” she lied brutally, the awful words tasting exactly like toxic ash on her tongue.
“I was honestly just… passing the time.”
Tyler flinched incredibly violently, acting exactly as if she had physically struck him across the face with a heavy object.
The beautiful vulnerability in his eyes instantly shattered, quickly replaced by a raw, completely devastating agony.
He looked slowly down at the velvet box, his large hands visibly trembling as he snapped it shut with a incredibly sharp click.
“Get out right now,” he rasped brokenly, his voice barely recognizable, completely stripped of all its previous warmth.
Megan absolutely didn’t wait for him to painfully repeat the harsh command.
She turned quickly and walked straight out of the shop, utterly leaving the only man she had ever loved standing completely alone in the dark shadows.
For an entire, agonizing year, Megan kept constantly moving, deeply terrified Brenda would quickly find a petty reason to cut the medical funding.
She took numerous odd, exhausting jobs in several different busy cities, endlessly pouring coffee in diners and scrubbing floors in cheap motels.
Megan absolutely never stayed in one single place long enough to put down real roots or make any actual, genuine friends.
Her mother’s health thankfully stabilized, the highly expensive new treatments working absolute miracles just like the doctors had firmly promised.
Every single month, Megan received a very brief, highly clinical update from the facility fully confirming the massive payments had successfully cleared.
She desperately tried to constantly convince herself that the incredibly agonizing sacrifice was entirely worth the pain.
Her beloved mother was fully alive, constantly smiling, and happily walking in the warm sunshine again.
But every single time Megan closed her tired eyes, she vividly saw Tyler’s incredibly broken expression in the dim light of the parlor.
She constantly heard the small velvet box snapping violently shut, permanently severing the only real connection she had ever truly known.
Resigning herself to a sad life of lonely ghosts, she fully believed resigned herself to a sad life of lonely ghosts, fully believing she would absolutely never see him again.
She simply assumed he had eventually crawled back to his controlling mother’s corporate empire, exactly as Brenda had originally planned.
Megan just lived in a permanent state of numb, exhausted survival, simply going through the daily motions of a completely empty life she no longer cared about.
The incredibly steady drumming of the heavy rain quickly brought Megan back to the incredibly tense present moment.
Tyler was still standing directly before her in the wet clinic parking lot, his dark hair completely plastered to his forehead.
He absolutely didn’t look like a completely broken man who had finally surrendered to a massive corporate dynasty.
Standing there, he looked exactly like the fiercely independent, incredibly stubborn artist she had originally fallen so deeply in love with.
“How long have you actually known?”
Megan asked, her shaky voice barely a soft whisper over the loud storm.
Tyler slowly shoved his hands incredibly deep into the front pockets of his wet leather jacket.
“A few long months,” he finally admitted, his strong jaw noticeably tight.
“Brenda unfortunately made a very rare, incredibly stupid mistake.
She actually bragged to her board of directors about successfully ‘managing’ my personal distractions.”
A highly bitter, humorless laugh quickly escaped his lips.
“One of the senior board members deeply owed my late father a massive favor.
He quietly slipped me the highly confidential financial records.”
Megan fully closed her eyes, a massive wave of profound, absolute exhaustion washing completely over her.
“I’m so incredibly sorry,” she breathed heavily, the verbal apology feeling entirely inadequate for the sheer magnitude of her awful betrayal.
“I was just so incredibly desperate.
She literally held my mother’s entire life firmly in her hands.”
“You absolutely should have trusted me,” Tyler said very gently, slowly taking a deliberate step closer to her.
“We definitely could have quickly found another, better way.
We absolutely could have fought her together.”
Megan slowly shook her head, hot tears finally freely mixing with the freezing rain on her pale cheeks.
“You really don’t fully understand Brenda’s massive reach.
She absolutely would have completely destroyed us both without hesitation.”
Tyler reached out, his warm, incredibly gentle thumbs carefully brushing the hot tears from her wet face.
“She definitely tried.
And she completely, utterly failed.”
He slowly pulled his hands back, carefully unzipping the top of his leather jacket to retrieve a neatly folded piece of heavy parchment.
Tyler gently handed it directly to Megan, closely watching her surprised face incredibly intently.
Megan slowly unfolded the thick, incredibly heavy paper, her widened eyes rapidly scanning the incredibly dense legal jargon.
It was a complete transfer of total ownership for a massive trust fund, fully irrevocably funding her mother’s care facility for the next full twenty years.
“What exactly is this?”
Megan gasped loudly, her hands shaking so incredibly badly she nearly dropped the important document in a puddle.
“Truthfully, I fully sold all my lucrative shares in the massive family company,” Tyler explained incredibly simply, as if discussing the weather.
“I entirely gave up my permanent seat at the corporate table, completely legally severed myself from the massive White empire.”
Megan stared directly at him in absolute, complete shock.
“You really gave up absolutely everything?”
Tyler offered that highly familiar, incredibly crooked smile that definitely still made her heart forcefully skip a beat.
“I happily gave up the useless things that truly didn’t matter, to fiercely protect the incredible things that actually do.”
He gently took the heavy paper from her incredibly trembling hands and carefully, securely tucked it back into his dry inner jacket pocket.
“Brenda currently has absolutely no leverage anymore.
She completely can’t touch your mother, and she definitely can’t touch you.”
The incredibly heavy, utterly suffocating weight that Megan had heavily carried for an entire year finally began to completely lift.
She looked deeply at Tyler, clearly seeing the absolute depth of his unwavering devotion written so plainly in his incredibly steady gaze.
“You actually came all this incredibly long way,” Megan whispered softly, slowly stepping fully into his personal space.
“Remember, I honestly told you once that you were absolutely my everything,” Tyler replied incredibly softly, his strong arms completely wrapping securely around her waist.
“I absolutely wasn’t lying.”
Megan happily leaned fully into his strong chest, deeply burying her wet face in the incredibly damp leather of his heavy jacket.
The highly familiar, comforting scent of strong green soap and fresh rain entirely enveloped her, feeling significantly more like a real home than any physical place she had ever been.
Exactly six incredibly happy months later, the bright sun shone incredibly beautifully through the massive front windows of a completely brand new shop.
The large, wooden sign hung above the main door proudly read ‘New Beginnings Tattoo’, beautifully painted in very bold, elegant sweeping letters.
Megan stood happily behind the highly polished front counter, laughing loudly as Craig stubbornly tried to balance three hot cups of coffee on his forearm.
“I’m honestly telling you, it’s definitely a brand new world record,” Craig loudly insisted, promptly dropping one of the hot cups straight into a nearby trash bin.
Megan laughed and shook her head, carefully wiping down the busy, entirely full appointment book.
The shiny brass bell above the front door happily chimed, but absolutely no new random clients walked in.
Instead, Tyler slowly emerged from the busy back room, casually pulling off his black latex gloves.
He walked directly over to the main counter, leaning far over to gently press a very soft, lingering kiss against Megan’s temple.
“Are you finally ready for your very first appointment?” he asked, a highly playful, loving glint in his dark eye.
Megan smiled brightly, eagerly stepping out from behind the heavy wooden counter.
She happily followed him to his pristine station, comfortably taking a seat in the highly familiar, incredibly comfortable leather chair.
Tyler very gently took her left hand, carefully turning her pale wrist slightly upward to fully expose the soft skin.
He had originally drawn the beautiful stencil several long months ago, the incredibly delicate vine they had originally designed together in the dark.
Now, there was absolutely no toxic Brenda, completely no terrible blackmail, and absolutely no dark lies hiding in the deep shadows.
The very quiet, incredibly steady hum of the tattoo machine fully filled the bright, beautifully airy room.
Tyler worked closely with the exact same gentle, highly incredible precision she had always so deeply admired, his artistic focus completely absolute.
As he finally finished the very last bit of delicate shading, he carefully set the heavy machine down and gently wiped the tattooed area completely clean.
He absolutely didn’t let go of her left hand.
Instead, he carefully reached incredibly deep into his pants pocket and slowly pulled out the exact same small velvet box from an entire year ago.
Megan’s breath fully caught completely in her throat as he quickly flipped it completely open, proudly revealing the incredibly simple, completely perfect silver band.
“Absolutely no terrible interruptions this time around,” Tyler murmured incredibly softly, incredibly gently slipping the beautiful ring permanently onto her ring finger.
It definitely fit absolutely perfectly, resting incredibly beautifully just slightly above the completely fresh ink of the lovely vine.
Megan looked slowly from the beautiful ring straight to the incredible man who had happily sacrificed an entire massive empire just to safely hold her hand.
“Absolutely no interruptions ever again,” she happily agreed, eagerly pulling his handsome face down for a deeply passionate kiss.
THE END
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might inspire them and brighten their day.
If you enjoyed this story, read this one: My Sister Hired a Hitman to Steal My Fortune — She Didn’t Know I Am a Highly Trained Assassin
Disclaimer
This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. If you would like to share your story, please send it to [email protected].
