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Confessions of a Nun

Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Heartbreak Billionaire: He Should Never Have Let Go

Devlen Giovannucci
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
Modern BetrayalSweetCEODivorce
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There was always a subtle scent of candle wax and old wood in the convent. Sunlight streamed through the high stained-glass windows, creating soft gentle red, blue, and gold patches on the stone floor. Emily knelt before the altar, fingers slipping gently over her rosary beads as she whispered her morning prayer.

Her life was quiet. Predictable. Peaceful.

It was about to explode. Outside the chapel, there was a loud clatter that broke the silence.

There was a voice, "ETHAN! YOU LITTLE-"

Her eyes snapped open in surprise. 

Outside, a man in a rumpled suit came barreling across the courtyard, waving a fist full of papers and shouting loud enough to wake saints. His foot caught on a potted plant-and down he went, face-first into the flowerbed.

"Oh no!" Emily gasped, robes flying as she rushed outside. 

Wiping dirt from his cheek, the man moaned. "Is this the House of Holy Radiance?" 

She knelt next to him and said, "Yes, are you okay?"

"What does 'okay' mean? I just had to wrestle a pigeon for directions, get kicked off a bus, and fly across the country. Now, I found you." He squinted at her, brushed off his suit, and stood. "You're Ethan, correct?" 

She blinked, "My name is Emily." 

He hesitated, "Twin sister?" 

Slowly, she nodded. 

He exhaled a long, dramatic sigh of relief, "Enough close!"

"Excuse me?" She asked, taking a small step back. "Who are you?" 

He smiled and made a theatrical bow. "Mr Edward , your brother's personal manager. He is a budding superstar and in serious trouble right now.

She furrowed her brows. "Is Ethan having problems?" 

"Well, sure. However, let's begin at the beginning." He displayed a glossy folder containing numerous photographs, including one of her brother practicing choreography on stage and another of him clumsily holding an upside-down microphone. "Your brother tried out to join Zero Saints as a new member.  He succeeded."

Emily's gaze expanded. "Did he?" Even though she had only seen the band on TV once when she was a kid.

"Indeed! He was amazing. It's almost a miracle that even the Great Mason Brookes didn't despise him. However, after that..." He stopped abruptly. "A catastrophe occurred."

"What happened?" She asked.

"Eye surgery," Mr Edward  said, apologetically. "He had a small operation in the U.S,  there were complications. He will be unable to fly for at least a month. The agency won't postpone the debut.

She scowled. "That's terrible! I should go see him soon. But, how is it related to- "

He pointed to her and said, "You! You'll be Ethan, only for a short time. A month. That's all."

Emily stepped back completely, "What? I'm training to become a nun! That's an abomination! I only even have skirts and gowns." 

Mr Edward smiled. "No problem, pulling out a duffel bag. We had some with us! Makeup, wigs, jeans are all available!"

She gave a headshake. "No. No. This is so crazy."

He realized that this would be harder than he thought and tried to convince her the more.

He softened his voice and said, "Listen. Ethan's fame didn't come from simply joining Zero Saints. He is trying to find someone. 

She paused, "Who?" 

He gave a nod, "Your mum." 

She gasped. 

He took a step towards her, "He believes that their lead producer, or someone close to the agency is aware of her identity. He thinks it's the only way he can ever locate her. He did this for you two."

Emily's world swung aside. Like a faraway song, the name "mother" reverberated. 

When they were just toddlers, they had been abandoned at an orphanage. Ethan had always thought she was still alive, somewhere. Emily had long since given up on hope.

"He truly believes he can locate her?" She muttered. 

Mr Edward  remarked softly, "I've never seen him more determined." 'She will go if I can't,' quoting Ethan. 

Emily's hands shook. "I sing hymns. I converse with pigeons. I can't be with all these famous boys, more or less live with them. I'm a nun for crying out loud!"

Mr Edward said quickly, "They're not that bad. Well, Mason is a little... scary. Luke is also overly perceptive. Jackson might attempt to braid your hair-"

She let out a moan, "You're not helping." 

He put his hands together in plea, "I'm desperate, I'd lose my job if I don't take one of you with me, please. Only a few months. After that, you can resume your holy silence and avoid wearing jeans ever again. 

She looked away, at the hills behind the convent wall in the distance. Her heart was at odds with itself. But she was needed by her brother. It's possible that she also needed this.

-------------------------

The air in the sleek rehearsal studio thrummed with tension and sweat. Lights glared down from the ceiling, bouncing off chrome mic stands and glossy instruments. The faint strumming of a guitar echoed as Jackson fiddled with a chord progression. Luke sat cross-legged near the keyboard. Mason leaned against the far wall, arms folded, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded in boredom.

Mr. Raymond stepped into the room with a quiet authority that immediately cut through the low hum of rehearsal.

"Alright, boys," he said, clapping his hands once. "Listen up."

Three pairs of eyes turned toward him. Luke sat up straighter. Jackson dropped his pick. Mason didn't move, but one brow twitched.

"I have an announcement." Mr. Raymond's voice was smooth but firm. "There will be a new addition to the band, starting today. His name is Ethan Carter."

Luke blinked. "New member?"

Jackson's face lit up. "Wait-like a fourth Zero Saint? Ohhh, are we changing the band name? Zero Sinners now? Zero & Friends?"

"No," Mr. Raymond replied dryly, but with a flicker of amusement. "He'll be backup vocals and helping with choreography for now. Ethan's shown promise. The agency believes he'll bring a fresh spark."

"Nice," Luke said, already nodding. "Looking forward to hearing him."

"Yeah, fresh blood could be fun." Jackson wiggled his brows. "Hope he can sing better than I can."

Mason snorted. "That's not a high bar."

Mr. Raymond ignored them and continued. "He'll be here in a few days. I expect you all to make him feel welcome."

Mason finally pushed off the wall, his boots clicking on the polished floor. "Welcome him?" he repeated, voice laced with disdain. "Did I miss a memo where we started auditioning rookies?"

"He's not a rookie. He passed the same screening you did," Mr. Raymond said.

Mason scoffed. "Except I had to claw my way here. Didn't have someone hand me a mic and say 'go be a popstar.'"

"Mason..." Luke warned softly.

But Mason wasn't done. His voice was calm, but cold. "If he wants to be in this band, he better earn it. And not just because the suits say so. I don't care what the agency thinks."

Mr. Raymond's expression tightened. "That's enough. Take it easy on him. He's just getting started."

Mason gave a crooked smile, all sharp edges. "We'll see."

Jackson whistled under his breath. "Oof. Here we go."

"I mean it," Mr. Raymond said, gaze locked on Mason. "Guide him. Understood?"

Mason didn't answer at first. Then, with a lazy shrug, "Sure. If he doesn't trip over himself first."

Luke leaned toward Jackson and whispered, "That's Mason-speak for 'I'm going to haze him like a frat pledge.'"

Jackson grinned. "This is gonna be fun."

Two days later, Emily stood in front of the gleaming Zero Saints agency building, disguised in baggy jeans, a hoodie two sizes too big, and mirrored sunglasses that she had taken from the convent's lost-and-found box. Under her baggy sweatshirt, her heart pounded.

The doors loomed ahead, sleek and automatic, like they'd swallow her whole.

Mr Edward  nudged her. "Just walk in, head high. You're Ethan now."

"I can't breathe," She muttered.

"You don't need to. Just smile...Or frown. Actually, frown. Mason frowns 98% of the time and fans still love him the most."

Stylists, interns, managers, and camera crews were all busy inside the agency. Emily ducked her head. Then she heard a voice. Sharp, cool and commanding without effort, "No neon, I said I'm not a circus tent,  I'm a rockstar.

For the first time.

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