Billionaire's Crazy Obsession

Hours later, outside the club, the snowfall was relentless, blanketing the streets in thick, wet layers. The world around victor felt muted, the city’s noise swallowed by winter’s hush.

He moved in silence toward his car, the leather of his coat stiff with cold.

William, his secretary, stood waiting with an umbrella raised, watching quietly. Mid-thirties, tall and lean, with neatly combed dark hair and sharp features that reflected his careful, meticulous nature, he exuded a quiet

authority that matched Victor's own.

Snow crunched beneath victor's shoes as he reached the vehicle. He finally turned his gaze toward William, his voice low, clipped, and dangerous.

“Did you know about Genevieve's house? Her parents’ death?”

William blinked in surprise at the question, then answered. “Yes, Mr Hale . Mrs. Hales parents died in a car accident last week. They were

already drowning in business debt, so there was no inheritance left behind.

The bank seized their house, and even the company her family owned everything was taken to recover the debt.”

Victor's face darkened, trouble etching deep into every line. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?!”

“…Mr. Hale ,” William replied, his voice low and hesitant. “Madam did call you last week. But at the time, you were in London, handling the

Shinova company’s merger. It was a crucial meeting. You answered briefly, but…”

Victor's mind flickered back to the call. He had been in the conference room then, papers scattered across the table, his eyes fixed on the

presentation.

The phone had rung again and again until he finally picked up, irritation on his face.genevive voice had come through the line soft, trembling. “victor … my parents—”

He had cut her off sharply. “I’m busy. Don’t bother me with your personal matters. How many times do I have to tell you? Solve it yourself!”

Then, without a second thought, he hung up.

Now, standing in the snow, color drained from his face.

Victor's chest tightened with a sudden, icy realization. ‘Should I have been more patient? Is this why she’s asking for a divorce?’

At that moment, victor's phone rang. It was in William’s hands, who handled his calls and messages. He glanced at the screen before quickly handing it over. “Mr. Hale… Madam is calling.”

Victor took the phone, straightening himself with a slow, controlled breath.

He swiped the screen to accept the call, lifting it to his ear. His voice dropped low, sharp and cold.

“Finally calling me? Now you understand the consequences of running away from my house?”

On the other end, a woman’s uncertain voice came through. “Hello… um, are you her husband? I—I was wondering if you could maybe send some money? She’s hurt, and I think I need to take her to the emergency room.”

Victor's eyes flashed with uncontrollable fury. His jaw clenched, veins standing out at his temple as he barked, “When did she become so greedy for money? First she runs away from my house, and now she makes excuses just to ask for money?”

The woman stammered, trying to explain. “She’s your wife, isn’t she? She

only needs—”

Victor cut her off, his voice a harsh whip. “If she wants money, she can come to me herself and beg for it!”

He flung the phone to the ground with brutal force. The device shattered, the screen cracking, pieces scattering across the wet, snow-covered pavement.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the street in icy white. Victor's furious eyes turned to William.

“I can’t believe I felt indebted to her. She is going to such lengths to extract money from me?!”

Meanwhile, the woman now disconnected and powerless stared at the broken phone in her hand. She tried to redial, but the screen flickered before going completely black. The battery had died.

Her gaze lifted… and froze.

Genevieve lay on the ground, blood streaking her forehead, her body slumped and

trembling. Her head spun, vision blurring, the frantic words of the woman beside her barely breaking through the haze.

The woman looked around for help, but the dark street was deserted, no soul in sight. Her breath misted in the cold air as her gaze dropped to Genevieve, lying on the ground with blood running from her forehead. Pity softened her eyes.

“This is your husband?” she asked, her voice rough with disbelief. “He hung up the instant I asked him to send some money so I could call an ambulance for you. I’m sorry… I don’t have a single dollar to help.”

The woman’s own clothes were tattered, barely enough to cover herself.

Her thin hands trembled as she glanced around nervously. “Those thieves… they’re not here anymore. But what if they come back?” she whispered under her breath. “Thank God I came on time. I wonder what they would’ve done to you if I hadn’t heard your voice and rushed over.”

On the ground, Genevieve stirred faintly. Her lashes fluttered, heavy with exhaustion. She forced her eyes open, her vision swimming, her temples throbbing with every faint beat of her heart.

With trembling arms, she pushed herself up, her breath shallow and uneven.

Her gaze fell on the shattered phone lying in the woman’s hand. Reaching out, her fingers shook as she took it back, her voice emerging weak and broken, barely more than a whisper.

“It’s all right. Thank you… I’ll be fine.”

The beggar woman stared in shock. “Fine? Look at you!”But Genevieve had already struggled to her feet. Her hair hung loose around her pale face, streaked with blood at the temple. One sandal had been lost while

fleeing; the other she now slipped off and tossed aside. She stood barefoot on the icy ground, snow clinging to her toes.

“How many years have you been married to this man?” the woman asked, curiosity laced with shock as she rose to her feet.

“Five years,” she answered softly. “We’re divorced now.”

The woman gasped. “Five years of marriage, and he wouldn’t spare even a few dollars to save your life?” Her gaze swept over Mia’s coat and pale face. “From your clothes, you don’t look poor like me. Your husband must

be rich. Still, he refused?”

Genevieve gave her a small, weary smile. “We’re divorced,” she repeated, as if the

word was enough explanation.

“Maybe… maybe if I had explained properly how badly you were injured, he would have listened,” the woman muttered, guilt shadowing her eyes.

“But he hung up before I could get the words out.”

“There’s no use telling him,” Genevieve said softly. Her tone was flat, her eyes hollow. “He’ll only tell me to take care of it myself.”

The woman’s chest tightened. She looked at Mia’s bloodied forehead with pity. “But what about your injury? You need to go to the hospital right now.

It looks bad.”

Genevieve's hand tightened around her phone until her knuckles turned white.

“I’ll manage,” she murmured. Then she turned and began walking down the snow-covered street, her bare feet stinging against the icy ground.

The woman’s eyes softened with helpless pity. At last, she sighed, turned, and shuffled back toward her hut on the corner of the street, her shadow disappearing into the night.

Genevieve walked forward alone. The snow crunched under her bare feet, cold slicing through her skin until they burned numb. She hugged her coat tighter against her shivering frame. Each step sent a wave of pain through

her body. Her head throbbed, her vision dimmed, but she forced herself onward.After leaving Victor's house last night, she had wandered without direction.

No relatives. No home. Nowhere to go. She had spent hours sitting on a hard bench at the train station, her suitcase at her side, staring blankly at the announcement board as trains came and went. Time itself had seemed to halt; the world moved forward, but she remained frozen.

In the morning, she gathered her courage and went to a cemetery. With the last of her money, she bought flowers, offerings, and a small resting place for her parents’ ashes.

She had sat before their graves until the snow began to cover her shoulders.

Not a single tear fell. Her heart had gone silent numb beyond grief. Only when the caretaker had gently urged her to leave did she rise, carrying her suitcase once again into the unknown.

Dragging her suitcase, she walked out into the streets again.

She hadn’t noticed the two men following her. It was only when they cornered her in a deserted street that she realized their intent. They struck

her, snatched her belongings, and took the suitcase from her hands. Her forehead was split in the struggle, her body weakened but before the.thieves could finish, the sound of approaching footsteps spooked them, and they ran off into the night. That’s when the beggar woman found her.

Now, Genevieve stumbled forward, blood dripping, clutching her broken phone

like her last lifeline. Her head pounded. Each breath scraped her lungs. She staggered forward, snow blurring beneath her vision. A loud ringing filled her ears. Her body swayed.

Then came the sound again—footsteps. Heavy. Urgent. Closing in fast.

Genevieve heart lurched. ‘They’ve come back… the thieves have come back.’

But her body gave out, her strength vanished.

Her legs gave way, her arms too weak to lift. The street spun. The world.collapsed into a dizzy haze.

And before she could think, scream, or run, darkness swallowed her whole.