A Midnight Encounter With Mr Billionaire

Dalma's POV

Dalma stood in front of the bar. From the noise she heard, she could imagine over 40 people were in that tiny room. She wasn't a crowd person but after she watched all her dreams shatter, the only thing she wanted was to escape reality.

She stepped into the crowded club. Everyone was having fun and dancing. After four shots of tequila, she saw an object in double, and her eyes were dizzy. She had never taken alcohol till today.

She saw everyone lost in the rhythm of the music, but fun wasn't what mattered to her at the moment. All she wanted was to forget her misery and lost dreams.

She was supposed to graduate from Oxford University as a medical doctor, fulfilling her lifelong dream, and making her family proud after many years of struggle. They had all anticipated her graduation but in less than 72 hours, the hope of seeing that dream come true was in the mud.

The memory of how she was framed for malpractice and accused of dealing on hard drugs kept taunting her. The school authorities found some hard drugs underneath her bed. She knew that was the end. Trying to defend herself at that point was useless, as she had nothing to prove them wrong.

Dalma wiped the tears off her eyes and shook her head as though that would make the memory fall off and vanish. How can she get over the hurt she feels now? Who would so eagerly want her downfall? Where would she pick up the pieces of her life? Why can't she forget what happened? She's been in the bar for over 6 six hours already, and it was almost a day break.

She tried standing up but could barely feel her legs. Just before she fell, a tall, muscular figure with an imposing physique caught her.

“Hey Superhero, I see you saved me. Why don't you give my existence a little meaning?” she smiled and grabbed the collar of his shirt, throwing herself completely in his arms. She started kissing him. The man gave in just as easily.

“Mmmmmmm……..Yeah…..I love it, I love how you make me feel,” her voice echoed in the dark room as his lips were enclosed in her nipple. His fingers were pumping into her, creating a rhythm that pushed her close to the edge.

A few hours later, Dalma woke up with a terrible headache. She glanced around the dark room, and the memory of what she had done flashed in her head.

Oh shit! What had she just done?. Could the day get any worse? She didn't just get expelled from medical school. She threw herself on a total stranger, letting him take her most cherished possession; her virginity.

She had promised Stanley her fiancee that she would wait till after their wedding. The pain she felt between her thighs was proof enough that it was gone. She wished all these would stop coming in a sequence.

The room was dark, which made her glad. At least she didn't get to see his face, and certainly, he wouldn't completely recognize her outside. She didn't need a prophet to tell her her days in England had come to an end.

It was barely dawn, so it was the perfect time to make the run for. She couldn't handle the shame. She left for Los Angeles, where her family and fiancee stayed, since she had nothing else to do in England. The reason she had come was already terminated.

She wondered how she would face Stanley after what she had just done.

Three months later, Dalma woke up feeling nauseous and feverish. She wondered why she caught a fever so fast, It hadn't been up to 5 months since she got examined for the flu.

She visited her family doctor, who sent her to the laboratory for a test. After a few hours, the results were ready. The doctor handed it to Dalma, and her hands shook. Things just got worse.

The doctor congratulated her, but Dalma knew it wasn't something to be happy about at the moment. In just one night, she ruined her life.

The doctor looked at her as though he knew what was in her head. “ You can go now, Dalma,” he said, drawing her attention to reality.

Dalma emerged from the hospital, her steps unsteady, tears streaming down her cheeks in an unstoppable cascade. Lost in the depths of her despair, she was haunted by dark thoughts, the spectre of suicide looming ominously in her mind's eye as she struggled to find a glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming darkness.

She got home late that night with the smell of alcohol oozing from her dress. Her mother looked disappointed because she never expected her well-trained daughter to suddenly turn alcoholic.

Dalma fell immediately she stepped foot in her father's house with the test results in her hand.

She woke up the next morning, and the first thing that came to her mind was where she had kept the test result. A surge of worry washed over her, realizing she hadn't personally placed them by her bedside. Hoping against hope that her mother hadn't stumbled upon them, she anxiously began her search..

With a frantic urgency propelling her steps, she dashed to the living room as if fleeing from an unseen beast haunting her room.

Breathless with relief, her eyes fell upon the test result, resting serenely on the dining table. However, her moment of relief was short-lived, as she realized she now faced the daunting task of explaining her intoxicated state from the previous night. Yet, before tackling that dilemma, she knew she must first dispose of the incriminating evidence laid bare before her.

Dalma's attempt at the disposal was abruptly thwarted as she collided with her mother in the hallway. Frantically attempting to conceal the damning document, her efforts proved futile against Mrs. Grey's astute gaze.

With a swift motion, Mrs. Grey seized the paper from Dalma's trembling grasp and scrutinized its contents. The weight of shame descended upon Dalma as tears welled in her eyes, realizing the magnitude of her transgression.

Desperate pleas escaped her lips as she beseeched her mother to understand, yet Mrs. Grey remained ominously silent. Her piercing inquiry echoed in the air, each word laden with accusation.

"Who's the father of the baby? Stanley, isn't it?" She asked curiously

Dalma's heart sank as the truth gnawed at her conscience. Even she couldn't discern the paternity of the child, and the prospect of implicating her fiancée, with whom she shared no intimate relations, was inconceivable. Facing her mother's unwavering scrutiny, she found herself bereft of answers, trapped in a web of her own making.

“Stanley, please hurry here. There's something urgent we need to discuss," Mrs. Grey exclaimed, her tone fraught with urgency before slamming the phone down in frustration.

With a sense of foreboding, Stanley dashed into the room, his demeanor reflecting the gravity of the situation.