The Billionaire's Muse

Warning: This book doesn't promote body shaming of any kind. It is to show the gullible nature of some humans in placing judgment using physical appearance as a measuring tool for someone's quality. It's okay to have your preference, but enforcing it on others because you're genetically lucky is unfortunate. Not everybody would be a 'ten' as you perceive, but that doesn't make them any less attractive.

And, if you were with someone when they had this beauty and wealth, when things go wrong for them, instead of leaving, support and love them more. Remember, what you reject today will become someone else treasure tomorrow, and by the time you realize that it would be too late for you.

All humans are beautiful. Don't let social media and perception fool you into looking for perfection. Again, it's okay to have a preference.

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and

places portrayed in this book are products of the author's

imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously.

Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely

coincidental and not intended by the author.

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MEREDITH:

"Alan, please. Don't do this to me. To us. We've been perfect for each other without any issues. We've gotten through a lot over the past six years. Are you just going to throw everything away? All the promises you made to me? Our friendship?" I shamelessly begged my long-time boyfriend. Today wasn't supposed to be like this.

We were here to celebrate our seventh anniversary. So I thought. However, Alan had other plans.

"Stop this, Meredith. You're embarrassing me," Alan said. His beautiful green eyes for some reason didn't have the usual emotion of love, care, and protection that I was used to. It dawned on me that something had changed.

"Baby, I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you." I was desperate not to lose the man I loved. I couldn't live without him. "Tell me what I did wrong. What went wrong? Let me fix it. Baby, I'm not giving up on us. We can work on whatever that's the problem."

Exhaling, "I don't want to get angry with you because you're a good person, Meredith. But, what you're doing right now is disgusting."

"Disgusting? That I'm trying to get to the root of the problem and probably save our relationship?"

"You can't save it. Let me be truthful with you. I've lost feelings for you. There's someone else that I've been seeing for a while, and I'm in love with her. She's pretty, smart, funny, and has a gym body with a huge ass. One day, you'll understand that what I did was best so that we don't end up wasting each other's time."

My entire world shattered into pieces. All I got myself to ask was, "why? Alan, why? I've done nothing but love you all these years, and you do this to us? Do I deserve this? I never lied, cheated, or hurt you. You know how this period is with me. It is a time I need you badly. You chose now to hurt me like this. One time that I need you, and you're leaving me."

"You'll forgive me one day. You can hate me now, but the feelings will fade. If it helps, I don't want you beating yourself up. This is on me. You never did anything wrong. In fact, until now and forever, no one will be able to replace you in my life. Let's continue being friends. If we are truly meant to be, we'll find a way back to ourselves."

Friends? Was that the level he had reduced us to? A man I planned a life with. Who made promises never to leave, hurt or cheat on me was standing there praising a girl before me and was leaving me behind.

Alan and I met when I was sixteen, and he was nineteen. It wasn't love at first sight. Truthfully, I hated his arrogant ass. But, over time, we became friends and then got to know each other better leading to us developing to be best friends, and then we started dating.

I met him when he was poor and had no direction in life. Yet, he was the most beautiful person in my eyes. I believed that he would be great, and it drove me to support and stand by him, knowing that it will get better. I saw something in him beyond his physical looks. He wasn't the best in both dressing, charisma, and looks because, at that stage, he was fighting to surpass puberty and become an adult.

After years of ups and downs with reassurance and hope, we got through school, and he went into coding. That was another phase of endless support and healing. Absorbing all his distress, waiting and grooming him to become a better version of himself. To become a true man.

Notwithstanding, Alan was the sweetest, most considerate, and kind boyfriend who showed me, absolute love. Or, so he made me believe. Who knows? Maybe, he was doing all that just to keep me, since he was afraid of being alone while discovering himself.

We talked so much about the future together. About kids, family, and all that fairy-tale world. He promised never to let go. He did. Now that it was time for him to keep his end of the bargain, he was bailing on me.

Alan stood in the private café he had rented out to get us some privacy since every press was after him now that he was a big name. "Meredith, I've to go. I have things to attend to."

I stared blankly at the six-eight feet-handsome-breathtaking boyfriend of mine that was now going to become my ex. I looked at his amazing body that we had achieved together. From fat and nerdy to a supermodel with ripped abs, which we got with me encouraging him to start working out and placing him on a diet. He looked so much better than when I met him. Now, he was every woman's dream, but I bet none of them would have looked at him twice before.

"Did you ever cheat on me?" I deserved to know that much. I was always wondering if he was as committed and faithful as I was. Although he never gave me a reason to suspect him or not believe his feelings for me, you can never tell how dubious one can be.

"You don't want to know the truth. Let's leave it." He brought out cash to pay for the breakfast we ordered, which I didn't touch since my appetite was down the drain. However, Alan devoured his, leaving a few crumbs behind.

"It doesn't change anything. After all, you've already broken up with me."

He profusely ran his hand across his neatly trimmed brown hair. "Yes, I cheated on you. That's why I'm breaking up with you. The guilt of having to come back to you each time like I'm doing nothing wrong is what I don't want to keep dealing with. If I'm with you and my mind and body are elsewhere, that means I'm not supposed to be in this relationship. I would rather not mess up the opportunity of us having a friendly string. I don't want us to become mortal enemies. Furthermore, I know that I'm a bad person for having held unto you. I kept you in a relationship that I wasn't even in. I left you dating yourself, holding you back from meeting someone new because I was afraid of losing someone who uniquely loved me. I apologize for wasting your time."

Before hearing his confession, I convinced myself to hold my head high and not break down. I couldn't.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and my heart ached. I found it difficult to breathe. It was like my air pipe was getting cut off. This was too much for me to handle. "I can't breathe," I managed to say.

"Come on, Meredith. Stop the drama and take a deep breath. You're not the first to have gotten dumped. You should be grateful that we didn't have a child. So, there's no one to constantly remind you of me."

I could barely make out what he was saying. Things became blurry. The room spun. "I can't breathe," I repeated.

"Fuck this! I don't have the time. Have a good life, Meredith." Those were the words I heard before I passed out.

MILES:

"Grenada, I told you that I'm fine. I don't need babysitting. If I've lived this long, survived a heart transplant, recuperating shouldn't be an issue."

"I'm just doing my job, Mr. Pierce. Besides, you signed an agreement to allow me to handle your health for life. Now, you've to follow my guideline for six months, and you can fully go back to doing what you want."

It was getting annoying that after my heart transplant and successfully getting discharged two weeks ago, everyone has been treating me like a vegetable. No one seems to be listening to my instructions or following my orders. As a matter of fact, I came back to meet my security team tripled and when I confronted my head of security, he said that it was an instruction I had given before the surgery. They made it look like I had partial amnesia because I couldn't remember initiating numerous changes that were made to my schedule, house, and staff.

Not to worry, in a little time and things will go back to how it was. Meaning that so many people will be losing their job. Do they think that I've changed or something as minor as this would slow me down? If I was prepared for death, and yet life gave me a second chance, the least I can do is make the most out of it.

For those who don't know me, my name is Miles Pierce. The most feared thirty-four-year-old billionaire in California. I have dominated the business aspect of California and the world, building numerous companies that rake in roughly a billion dollars in a year after tax. When it comes to looks, I know that I'm a rare work of creation and my workout routine has helped me to maintain it. Although one can never have everything and that was my case until an unexpected miracle happened.

Three years ago, I had a perfect life and everything was smooth until they found a lump in my heart during one of my health checkups. Initially, I was told not to worry and that it wasn't something to worry about. After a few medications and minor surgery, it should be gone. At least that is what my doctor told me. With reassurance, I went back to my normal daily activities, listening and following instructions.

As the universe had other plans for me, I was scheduled for a follow-up checkup to know about things.

"Mr. Pierce," I remembered vividly, that was how Grenada called me. A moment that changed everything.

"Shoot. Good news or Bad news? Don't give me that pitiful look," I admonished her as I sat on the examination table, buttoning my suit.

"It's bad news. A really bad one." She hesitated to continue.

For goodness' sake, she knew how I hated one stalling. "Out with whatever it is already. It's getting on my nerves. I have an important meeting to attend."

Exhaling, she zoomed in on the image before me. "You might as well reschedule your meeting. The lump has grown worse, As it is, it has occupied eighty percent of your heart. It appears to me that it grew immune to the treatments and fought against the antibiotics instead."

"I am lost. Can you break it down for me? Because all I hear is how incompetent my personal doctor is. What do you mean by it seems? I don't pay you well for things to 'seem' to you. If you don't know your job, I'll educate you on it."

Standing to my feet with a swift force, I felt queasy and that cost me to almost trip on my own feet. Readjusting myself to get a better stand, I finally settled on the vacant chair close to me, trying as much as possible to regain my strength. At that moment, it dawned on me that I was truly sick, and it was no joke.

"Miles," Grenada called me once more. When she calls me by my name, it is always serious business. "You don't have much time left."

"Instead of giving me more insight into the problem, I want a solution. Lots of it. How much would it cost to get this over with?"

"I am afraid money can't fix this one, We need a heart transplant as soon as possible or you will die."

Death existed, that I was aware of. However, I never thought that I would be in a situation of it staring in my face so soon. Of all people, it chose to attack me and render my guard defenseless. For what it's worth, it could have taken some random person who was complaining about life. Or, better still, an ungrateful human trying to commit suicide. Yeah. Those were better options. Not me. I loved life so much because it was great for me. So, to have something tamper with it, I was beyond perplexed.

"Did you hear me, Miles?" Grenada was swirling her chair like she just hadn't announced my own death to me. Looking all too comfortable and happy. How could she have a stupid glowing face when I was about to die?

"I heard you. Do you have one ready to use? I mean the heart, of course."

She shook her head a bit and put on her dead-serious face once more. "It doesn't work that way. We need to put you on the waiting list. Moreover, it isn't something you can buy off a shelf. It is a heart that needs to be relinquished by a donor."

"All I hear is a problem without a solution. Tell me a solution."

Linking her hands on top of the desk, she stared into my eyes without blinking for a second. "We need to run a comprehensive test to find out what donor you need. Wait and pray that you get a match. It's the only thing we can do."

That was the last time I heard anything positive from my doctor until two years and three months after. It was always a negative answer. "Sorry, Mr. Pierce, we haven't heard from the other hospitals yet. Sorry, Mr. Pierce, this one wasn't a match. We are doing our best, Mr. Pierce. There's nothing else for us to do. We've exhausted all our options, Mr. Pierce. We can only hope for a miracle."

I heard more apologies and got numerous disappointments throughout those terrible two years and three months, making me give up. I accepted my fate of dying young and quick, started fixing things for after my demise, and plotted revenge on my enemies.

Nevertheless, something different happened. I never believed in the fiction of miracles. I was the kind of guy who preferred scientific explanations to religious or spiritual ones. When the impossible happened, I was moved to retrace my stand on miracles.

Seven months ago, as I angrily swallowed the tons of pills I had in my hand which were now keeping me alive, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. Ignoring the furious buzzing of the phone, I dropped the glass of water I had in my hand and cursed. "Who the fuck is blowing up my phone this early?" Reluctantly, I picked up the phone, preparing myself to shout the living daylight out of whosoever it was.

Immediately I answered the call, I heard a voice and news that made me freeze. "Mr. Pierce, we've found a donor!" Grenada's voice announced with an overwhelming excitement in her tone.

That was really an end to a beginning.

MEREDITH:

'You can't keep wallowing in the past,' I scolded myself. Today was one of those days that reminded me how unlucky I was. I just needed a shoulder to lean on. Someone to cuddle while I cried my heart out. Well, no one had that time. Everyone was busy with their lives. At the end of the day, what you have is yourself.

I didn't even notice that I had been crying all along until I felt my blouse become wet against my skin. Great! Now my makeup was ruined. A great way to describe my life was boyfriendless, jobless, visionless and soon-to-be homeless since I couldn't afford the rent.

More than anything, I needed to hear that everything was going to be alright. That this was temporary. I just needed some sort of comfort coming from whatever source, I couldn't care less. I guess we don't always get what we wish for.

Don't you dare show your weakness, Meredith Tate? Pull yourself together and figure out what next to do. You've fought tougher things than getting rejected in different offices. Shit! I'm going to keep on crying.

My lip wobbled as I kept sobbing, not caring if it drew the attention of people. I was so frustrated. Every firm I stepped into today had told me no to my face. Some cared to go through my CV and others didn't even take a look at it. They just turned me down upfront without giving me a chance. Was it my destiny to get rejected, abandoned and denied? Or, something was wrong with my face.

When I was convinced that I could cry no more, I reached for the piece of scrappy paper I had jotted down a number I saw during an advertisement.

Dialing the number, I made sure to clear my throat to get my vocals sounding confident and readjusted myself. Hopefully, this works out. I don't mind taking up whatever offer at this state. I just needed a means of income. Not including anything illegal, of course.

The phone rang twice and no one answered. "Another dead end," I mumbled to myself in disappointment. Settling to put back the phone in my purse, I got the encouragement to give it another shot. "One more time," I said as I dialed. Fortunately, someone picked.

"Hello, this is Pierce Enterprise. Who is on the line and how may I help you?" A female voice asked. Her voice was overwhelming.

"My name is Meredith Tate. I'm calling concerning the opening in your enterprise for the position of a Personal Assistant?" I began biting my nails due to anxiety. Hoping that it wasn't another negative answer shoved into my face. Or, as the case may be, shoved into my ears.

"Okay? Can I address you as Miss or Mrs.?"

"Miss," I hurriedly responded.

"Well, Miss Tate, you're in luck depending on your capacity to get here as soon as possible."

"Can I ask why?"

"Today is the final day for the interviewing, screening and clearing of candidates for the position."

"I didn't know that." Maybe it was a sign that I was finally about to get something. I think it was too soon to be excited. I felt jittery, and my palms became sweaty, A positive answer shouldn't feel this way.

"Miss Tate, do you have a pen and paper close to you so that I can give you the address to where you're meant to go for the interview."

I fumbled with my purse and got out a pen. Turning the piece of paper I had in my hands so that I could get a space to write, "kindly go ahead," I said.

"Pierce Avenue, Sunnyvale, Santa Clara, California. If you can make it there within the next hour, that would be to your advantage."

"Oh, thank you so much for the information."

"You're welcome. Enjoy the rest of your day. And, good luck, Miss Tate." She hung up the call before I could say anything else.

Okay. All I had to do was to get my ass to that address.

Shooting to my feet, I grabbed my purse and quickly walked into a nearby café, heading straight to the ladies. I needed to fix myself. Going to an interview looking shitty can never be a good idea. The bad thing was that I didn't bring my makeup kit or extra clothes. I've to make this work.

As soon as I hit the first unit with a large mirror, I put my purse on top of the bathroom sink. Looking into the mirror, my face looked horrible. Puffy from crying and smeared with makeup. I looked as if I had just survived a horrific experience. Come to think of it, I just survived one anyway.

I took a piece of face wipes and cleaned off the makeup, keeping it as light as possible. I took a second one to clean the few stains on my blouse, making sure to keep it neat. Thank goodness I had chosen a gray-long-sleeved-satin blouse, pairing it with a black pencil skirt that stopped slightly below my knee and matched them with a gray pump and bucket purse that held my credentials.

Patiently, I began to blow on the wet area on my blouse to get it to quickly dry. Satisfied with the outcome, I restyled my hair into a messy bun. One more glance at the mirror and I was good to go.

Gathering my things, I tossed the excess into the trash and headed out. Thankfully, as soon as I made it to the walkway, maneuvering my body through the booming street of California, I was able to locate my scrappy 190 Mercedes-Benz in a deserted corner where I parked it.

I climbed in, shut the door behind me, and tossed my bag on the passenger seat. Jabbing the keys in the ignition, my car came to life, letting out choked sounds that stood as a reminder to me that it was nearly the end of its life span before it died down.

"Not now, the universe. Let this go well."

Another attempt and it started, sounding better than before. That should work. If I could, I will fly to that address. I can't miss this opportunity for whatever reason.