The Billionaire In The Treehouse

Medora

It's been two weeks since I ran from home. My parents already consider me a spinster and took it upon themselves to find me a husband only that the 'husband' they found me is a grumpy widower who also has a sixteen year old daughter who would probably make life hell for me if I end up marrying her father.

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. At least that is what I would have thought if I had any sleep at all. I have never really been away from home and now that I am, I figured insomnia is what I have to battle with.

I scanned my unorganized living room and sighed at my own misery. I haven't arranged anywhere other than my bedroom since I moved to Seattle. I glanced at the clock and saw that I had three hours before my shift at the restaurant where I work.

Going from working at my dad's hospital to waiting tables isn't a great start but at least I'd have something to keep myself when I run out of the funds I stole from my dad before escaping.

I chose to meticulously use my time to sort out my living room. I wasn't exactly pleased when I was done but at least that's out of my list of chores. I sucked in my breath and grabbed all of the trash I needed to take out, lifting them to my chest because I'd rather get dirty than take out the trash twice.

To the right of my new home is a massive compound with a long driveway that from my place, I can barely see anything but the roof of the house but there is a large, beautiful treehouse near the gate, its shadow looming over my own.

As annoyingly beautiful as the tree house is, I hate that I have had to sweep tons of leaves in my compound. Summer is wrapping up but this tree still drops at least three bags of leaves everyday. It's aggravating. I dumped the trash on the ground and walked over to the other house with the intention to give whoever spends their whole life in the tree house a piece of my mind.

I don't enjoy the tree or the house on it, why do I have to do manual labor to keep my compound clean?!

I rang the doorbell and the gates opened automatically. I shoved out the voice that was constantly telling me the owners of this house are fucking rich and I should relax. I walked up the spiral staircase that led to the tree house.

On the door way it said 'Go away' Whoever is in here must be as miserable as I am right now. I ignored the sign and knocked on the door, it beeped twice which I took as a sign to come in. When I walked in, rage didn't allow me to take in the tree house, I simply stormed towards a boy who was sitting in front of a tv, playing video games.

"Hey," I yelled.

He didn't respond, he had headphones on so he probably couldn't hear me no matter how much I scream. I tapped his shoulder instead. He pulled off his headphones and turned back.

"I live next door and this tree you live in drops at least three bags of dried leaves into my fucking compound. I know you are rich and you have probably never touched a broom in your life but I'm fucking tired of spending my mornings sweeping up leaves from a tree that is does nothing for me!" I yelled on top of my voice.

The young boy only kept looking at me without uttering a word. Even more irritated, I turned towards the exit and walked out. As I began climbing the stairs down, I heard a loud crash come from inside the treehouse.

I turned around in a shock and rushed back into the tree house. The boy was on the floor, his video game controller on the other side of the room, he was trying to reach something, I followed his hand. It was a fucking electric wheelchair.

Guilt washed over me and I wish I could take back everything I said.

"Ohh my god. I'm so sorry," I rushed to his chair and pushed it closer to him. "Let me help you up," I moved over to him.

"Go away!" He yelled on top of his voice, causing me to flinch.

I immediately backed up from him, water swelling up in my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"Get out!" He roared.

I ran out, down the stairs and outside the house. My heart was beating fast, pain surged through me at the thought of the cruel thing I just did. I reached the front of my house and slumped down next to my car, sobbing like a child.

I don't know why I'm crying, maybe because running away from home and the past two weeks of my life has been the hardest or because I just took it out on a crippled boy.

After crying my eyes out, I found myself in the bathroom, taking a shower. I dressed for work and left the house, hoping whoever that kid was will find it in his heart to forgive me.

"Urghhh, you look like a mess," Yellow, my co-worker said just as I made my way past a few tables to the kitchen.

"Tell me about it," I yawned tiredly, joining her behind the counter.

"You, tell me about it," she said, wiping just-washed-dishes. I don't know my way around here properly yet. Yellow is teaching me everything I need to know.

"Yellow, my life is a mess," I palmed my face.

"I know. You ran away from home, you don't get enough sleep and you work at a restaurant despite your MD degree," she listed all the reasons why my life is an actual mess.

"Yes," I groaned. "And I just took it out on some poor crippled boy," I said, pouring myself whiskey.

I don't own the restaurant but Matthew, the owner who also runs an illegal gambling room in the basement, is obsessed with yellow and lets us have any drink and food we want.

"Who? Clyde Miller?" She asked, passing me a plate.

"Clyde who?" I asked, confused.

Medora

"You live at house 13, Highland Drive, right?" Yellow reminded me of where I live. Aside from checking to fill in my job application form, I never really memorized where I live.

"Yeah," I propped on the stool next to her.

"You live next to Clyde Miller," she mentioned casually.

"Who is that?" Aside from yellow and Matthew I pretty much don't know anyone else in this town.

"The boy with the pretty treehouse," she added, stacking the fancy plates on top of each other.

"You know him because of his pretty treehouse?" I was puzzled.

She giggled.

"No. His father and he were involved in a plane crash. The private plane was beyond repair, and it took his father's life. It's a miracle that the young boy only suffered injuries to his legs. He's always loved that treehouse, but now he hardly ever leaves it, I hear. His mother also became a shadow of herself after losing her husband."

A sharp pain pierced my chest as I absorbed the weight of her story.

"Urghhh," I groaned, clutching my chest because at this point, it hurts physically. "Can today get any worse?"

"What did you say to him?" Yellow asked.

I'm too ashamed to let it out but yellow has been a very good friend to me and the only person I have been able to talk to, so I might as well tell her and see if she can possibly find a solution with me.

I wondered why Yellow was cleaning dishes instead of Sam but I was really engrossed in our conversation. "Sweetheart, tons of leaves from your tree fall over to my house and litter everywhere. Is there something we could do about that?"

"That was what you said? Not bad," she shrugged.

"I wish!" I slumped dramatically on the stool. "I wish that was what I said but I yelled at him and made him fall off his chair then he yelled at me to get out," my head drops to my plans.

Yellow managed a laugh and then walked over to me. She pulled me to herself and rubbed my back suitingly. "It's okay. You are going to apologize and everything will be fine," she said.

I hate my life.

"I wish his mother chose to take care of her only son instead of doing drugs," Yellow added.

I sighed. He is having it worse than I am, I'm not sure whether to be grateful or not but I'm really concerned about him.

_______

There were two women and one man sweeping together the leaves that had fallen over into my compound today just like yesterday and the day before. I bit my fingers nervously, feeling like a terrible person. I know I was cruel that day to Clyde and I could have been more diplomatic but I don't want strangers in my house.

I had instructed them two days ago not to come to my home again to sweep the leaves but they refused saying they have been paid handsomely to sweep up the leaves.

You might as well call me miss grumpy. These days, I'm always grumpy. Today, maybe because yellow had to drag me out of the bed just when I started getting a hint of sleep to pick her up for her dentist appointment.

"You are late!" Yellow protested as I came to a halt in front of her house.

"Be grateful I'm here," I rolled my eyes to the back and watched her get into the car.

Yellow doesn't have a car so I practically drive her everywhere since we met.

"What's wrong with your teeth?" My intention was to be polite but instead I sounded rude.

"What's with the grumpiness? Haven't you apologized to Clyde?" She said, clicking in her seatbelt.

"No, I don't have the balls," I sighed.

"He is just a seventeen year old... say sorry," Yellow said like that would in any way help.

"I will," I sighed and pulled up into the hospital.

After a few minutes of waiting at the reception while Yellow saw her dentist. I yielded to the urge in my mind to call my Dad, so I stepped out of the hospital.

I leaned on my car and stared down at my dad's contact, my thumb hovering over the dial option. I thought that with time I wouldn't miss home so much but it has only gotten worse.

It's been days without speaking to my best friend Millie. Guilt washed over me knowing I should have at least told Millie I was leaving. The usual pain in my chest returned, come to think of it, is all of these truly better than marrying Anthony?

Just as I was about to hit the dial option, yellow yelled my name.

"Hey," I masked my misery behind a smile and tucked my phone into my back pocket.

"My teeth are fine. My doctor thinks I'm allergic to my new toothpaste," she smiled widely. Her smile makes me feel better.

Yellow reminds me of Millie a lot. Shoulder-length blonde hair is full with dark roots and perfectly styled. She wore simple makeup that enhanced her features-green eyes, pink thin lips, pretty long lashes, and a beauty mark just above her left eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" She asked, seeing I was only staring at her.

"I'm fine," I smiled back.

"You look sad, do you miss home? Should we go get ice cream?" She asked to walk to the passenger's side of the car.

"Ice cream is great," I ignored her other questions. Admitting that I miss home out loud might just be what breaks me down.

Just as we were about to enter the car, I noticed a few men in suits, about four of them wearing shades and matching earpieces, out of the hospital entrance. They paused just outside the doorway, lining two by the right and two by the left.

Something about their presence felt off. I glanced at Yellow, who seemed oblivious to the tension in the air. "Do you see those guys?" I asked.

Medora

"That's probably..." Yellow paused and scanned the driveway quickly. "Ohh... Clyde Miller is at the hospital," she said, her eyes fixed on a car.

"How do you know that?" I asked, my heart pounding all of a sudden.

"Look," she nudged her head towards a car.

It took me a while to notice that the plate number of a Cadillac was customized "Clyde Miller."

"Wow, is he like a prince or something?" I asked Yellow.

She laughed.

"No, his father...his family is very rich. Like billionaire type of rich," she explained. "Oh look, that's his mom," she added.

My eyes immediately shot up in that direction. Maybe I really want to see the woman who lets her son spend his whole day alone in a treehouse.

A blonde woman stepped in front of the bodyguards, talking with a doctor. She had light blonde hair and was dressed in a black coat, black heels, and a red purse that could probably buy me and everything I own. She tilted her head a little, giving me a glimpse of her side view -sculpted cheekbones, but she had shades on as well.

Clyde dressed in a navy sweater and black pants wheeled past his mom, a young boy trying to meet up with him. Probably his brother butbhe had dark hair. He turned around to face his mom while two of the bodyguards came to stand behind him.

In a swift movement, Clyde turns his head and his eyes meet mine. He didn't look away, neither did I. The staring was so intense it was like time froze.

He must have recognized me, the crazy redhead that took out her frustration on him. He broke eye contact and looked away.

"This is your chance to apologize to him," Yellow pulled me out of my trail of thoughts.

"What? In front of his whole family? Hell no," I refused and climbed into my car.

Just as I turned on the ignition, I realized we had to drive right past them. By the way, they are already standing close to their cars, Clyde's mom entering a Maybach while Clyde, the young girl and his bodyguard were trying to get him into the Cadillac adapted for wheelchair use.

As we passed, I couldn't help but glance back one last time. Up close, he looked stressed, his bushy beard and long, unkempt dirty blonde curls framing his face. His lashes were long and thick, casting shadows over his electric blue eyes. There was a weariness in his expression, a tiredness that spoke volumes-tired of life, perhaps-and that somehow scared me. It was as if I could see the weight of his struggles etched into his features, making me feel a pang of guilt and concern.

I spent the rest of my day at Yellow's watching a movie, except that she watched alone, I slept most of the time. I was working on my sleeping schedule I promise. When I got home, the lights in Clyde's treehouse were on. I could hear soft sounds of the guitar coming from his window. I contemplated going to apologize but I decided against it and went to bed.

_________

Friday nights at the restaurant are typically lively and filled with customers, I mean Friday nights are meant for dates right? That's the day every couple in town chooses to give their partner a time of their life, but today it's strangely quiet with not a single customer in sight. This unusual calmness makes me wonder if something is going on.

Although, walking towards the kitchen, I could smell freshly cooked steak. Did Matt decide to use his restaurant to host some kind of family dinner?

"Yellow," I put my purse aside as I entered the kitchen. I grabbed a hair net and carefully wore it over my slick bun. Not that any hair could fall off with the amount of gel I plastered on my hair.

"Hey, Love," she grabbed my name tags and pinned it to my shirt. .

"What? There's not a single customer out there, what is going on?" I asked before waving to our one of a kind chef.

He winked back instead of waving because his hands were busy cutting up onions.

"Ohh someone booked the whole restaurant," Yellow said, biting into an apple.

"That's so romantic, it must have cost a fortune," I exclaimed.

"It's Clyde. Clyde's family are having dinner here." she bit into her apple again.

My heart skipped a beat.

Ohh lord. Why do I have to be faced with the constant reminder of how much I failed at being a nice and reasonable human. Instead of freaking out, I took it as another chance for me to apologize so I wrote a note with no idea of how to give it to him.

A few minutes after 9 O'clock, I recognized the woman from the hospital the other day. Clyde's mom, she walked in wearing an expensive red dress, red lipstick, black Louboutins and a black purse. Her hair was slicked to the back in a low bun, she looked expensive. There was a man with her probably in his mid forties wearing a black tux. They paused just right by the table and he slid his arm around her waist.

She has started dating again? Good for her. A young girl with dark Shoulder-length hair walked In as well, busy with her phone. She ignored the adults and sat at the table still pressing her phone.

They all sat at the table while Yellow walked over to them with a notebook and a pen to take their order but Clyde wasn't here yet.

"Ohh lord," I sighed, checking my back pocket to be sure my apology note to Clyde was still there.

A few minutes passed before Clyde wheeled in, his bodyguard behind him shutting a dripping umbrella. It's raining outside?

"Clyde!" The young girl with dark hair sprinted for her seat towards Clyde in her extremely high heels and literally threw herself on him. Clyde slowly brought his hands up and wrapped them around her.

He turned his head to the right and our eyes met. I was staring creepily at them. I should walk away I mentally told myself and left.