Heartbroken Billionaire: Begging for Redemption novel Chapter 8

Chapter 8

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It turned out that Howard was involved as well.

“Do they know it’s me?” Megan asked.

under

She didn’t spell it out, but she was asking if Alyssa knew that Quinn was actually her. Nevertheless, she was certain Jimmy could understand what she was asking.

“They don’t. I’m sure of it,” Jimmy replied at once.

Megan fell silent.

Cars passed by one after another. She lifted her gaze to see the drifting clouds, then made a decision.

Megan called the doctor first to check if she could push her appointment to the afternoon.

Then she told Jimmy she would head over right away.

“Okay, come as soon as you can.”

Hanging up, Megan turned the car around. She made a quick stop to pick up some things, then drove straight to Ferrell Entertainment.

After parking, she put on a hat, sunglasses, and a mask before striding in.

With a ding, the elevator doors slid open.

Her Dior kitten heels clicked against the floor as she entered the office.

“You’re here, Quinn,” Jimmy greeted her.

Noticing her new look, Jimmy raised a brow, but he kept his expression composed. He ushered her inside and seated her at the long table.

On the opposite side sat Howard and Alyssa.

As soon as Megan walked in, Alyssa stood up.

“Hello, Quinn. I’m Alyssa Hardin. You might have heard about me.”

She offered a fragile smile, looking pitiably delicate. “I sincerely want to buy the rights to use your song. I hope you’ll sell it to me.”

Megan didn’t answer immediately. She first glanced at Howard.

He didn’t look at her at all–every bit of his attention was on Alyssa.

Sitting beside Megan, Jimmy spoke up upon hearing Alyssa’s words.

“Ms. Hardin, Quinn isn’t planning to sell this song. I’ve already told you that.”

Alyssa ignored Jimmy. Her eyes reddened as she turned to Megan.

“But Ms. Quinn, I really do love this song.”

Her brows knitted suddenly as she spoke, as if she were in pain.

Howard frowned deeply, his eyes filled with concern.

Alyssa “bravely” shook her head at him before turning back to Megan.

“Ms. Quinn, I only have half a year left to live. So please, I beg you to part with it. Please consider it as fulfilling my dying wish.”

Megan let out a soft laugh at that.

It was yet another dying wish.

When Howard had asked for a divorce, he had said Alyssa’s dying wish was to marry him.

And now there was yet another dying wish.

Megan had always shown respect for people’s suffering and the sanctity of life and death, but why was it that the sacrifice always fell on her?

Why should she respect the woman who had come between her marriage?

Should she be bullied simply because she wasn’t diagnosed with a terminal illness that would kill her in six months?

“And what if I say no?” Megan rasped, her voice low.

Alyssa was speechless.

“Ms. Hardin, I’ve indeed heard about you,” Megan continued, voice still low. “Your death countdown as the famous floral designer Alyssa Hardin has been all over the internet lately. But whether I sell the license to my song is my business.

“I have no obligation to fulfill your dying wish. And I fail to see what you plan to use it for.”

She paused for three beats before coolly adding, “Will it be for your live stream channel, or will it be a song played at your funeral?”

“You!*

Chapter 8

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Furious, Alyssa began coughing violently.

Howard patted her back, steadying her. His expression turned stormy as he shot “Quinn” a displeased glare.

For the first time since she had entered, this was the first time he had even looked at her.

“Ms. Quinn, don’t you think you’ve gone too far?”

Howard frowned, his voice low and cutting. His dark eyes held a steely intensity as he pressed his lips into a hard line.

On that familiar face was an expression of dissatisfaction toward her.

Megan looked back at him.

He was wearing a different outfit from yesterday.

It should be one she herself had once put together for him in the walk–in closet at the villa.

So he had returned to their home.

Surely, he had already noticed she had moved out. Yet, he didn’t seem to care. She guessed that was a good thing.

Collecting herself, Megan’s eyes shifted downward behind her sunglasses, avoiding Howard’s gaze.

“I think coercion is worse. And if you’re prepared to coerce, then you’d better be prepared to hear words that you wouldn’t like as well.”

Howard’s frown deepened, his displeasure growing more apparent.

“Let me handle this, Howard,” Alyssa piped up gently before he could speak again.

The office lighting was warm, but Alyssa’s white Celine suit made her look even paler.

“Ms. Quinn, I truly do love this song,” she said softly, then turned to Howard.

“It really is deeply moving to–me as it captures so many of the feelings I’ve had for the man I love–the passion, the secrecy, and the touch of inferiority. There’s also the devotion, the joy of being loved in return, and…”

Her eyes dimmed. “And the crushing despair of knowing my days are numbered. That despair gnaws at my very bones. Such despair used to torment me, leaving me in agony. But what moved me most in your song was the letting go at the end.

“Everything about it is just like my life now, accepting everything, letting it all go, and finding peace in my last days.”

Alyssa spoke softly, her voice trembling at times, calm at others, as if she had endured great trials. She evoked pity, and Howard was proof of it.

When Alyssa spoke of despair, Megan clearly saw the tenderness and anguish in Howard’s eyes- a look she had never once seen in seven years.

Evidently, her seven years couldn’t compare to Alyssa’s less than one.

To Megan, they looked like a pair of lovers weathering tragedy together.

Unfortunately for them, she was the wife, so she couldn’t be moved.

And that was an inconvenient fact.

“Ms. Quinn, this song perfectly expresses all I’ve been through lately. I understand what you felt when you wrote it. And surely, you’d want someone who truly gets it to buy the rights, right?”

Alyssa spoke as if certain Megan would relent.

If the rights to use a song were going to be sold anyway, it was only natural that the best option would be to sell it to someone who truly understood it.

But unfortunately for her… |

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