Rebel Billionaire's True Love

Rebel Billionaire's True Love

last updateLast Updated : 2023-11-26
By:  Eden Moon  Ongoing
Language: English
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Wyatt Lane stands at the precipice of his own making. Behind the façade of a successful CEO lies a secret life of underground fight clubs, where Wyatt, known as Hawk, battles his inner demons. As he grapples with a love he dares not confess for his childhood friend, Penelope, his nights are consumed by brutal violence, a desperate attempt to control a life that feels increasingly chaotic. Penelope, ever-present yet painfully unaware of the depth of Wyatt's restlessness, struggles to penetrate the armor he's built around himself. As their bond deepens, so does the danger, leading Wyatt to a crossroads: confront his hidden fears and desires or succumb to the darkness that threatens to consume him.

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1. Restless Darkness

A restless darkness took hold of me, growing stronger with each passing moment. It started as a whisper, an urge for something more, something thrilling. I should have expected this. After the stressful day I had, I was surprised my assistant Penny held my attention as long as she did. By day, I was the impeccable CEO, navigating the corporate battlefield with a calculated demeanor. But the mask often slipped away as night fell, revealing a man craving adrenaline. An escape. The transformation was swift. I peeled off the layers of my executive self, discarding the tux and tie that symbolized Lane Enterprises. Instead, I put on a black baseball cap, a plain white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and faded jeans. Clothing that rendered me unrecognizable, even to myself. Within moments, I stepped out of my penthouse, a shadow of my usual self, driven by a need to escape. The city's underbelly hid secrets. One of its darkest was the underground fight club I was drawn to night after night. L

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Eden Moon
Much Love .........
2023-08-20 22:58:57
1
35 Chapters

1. Restless Darkness

A restless darkness took hold of me, growing stronger with each passing moment. It started as a whisper, an urge for something more, something thrilling. I should have expected this. After the stressful day I had, I was surprised my assistant Penny held my attention as long as she did. By day, I was the impeccable CEO, navigating the corporate battlefield with a calculated demeanor. But the mask often slipped away as night fell, revealing a man craving adrenaline. An escape. The transformation was swift. I peeled off the layers of my executive self, discarding the tux and tie that symbolized Lane Enterprises. Instead, I put on a black baseball cap, a plain white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and faded jeans. Clothing that rendered me unrecognizable, even to myself. Within moments, I stepped out of my penthouse, a shadow of my usual self, driven by a need to escape. The city's underbelly hid secrets. One of its darkest was the underground fight club I was drawn to night after night. L
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2. The Weight of Wealth

Their hand closed around the bills, and for a moment, they just stared at them, trying to comprehend this unexpected turn of fortune. "Thank you," they whispered. "I don't know what to say." "There's no need to say anything," I said, standing up. "Just take care of yourself, okay?" As I walked away, I glanced back to see the person still looking at the money. It was a small act, but it felt significant. In the cold, lonely night, it was a fleeting connection in a world where I increasingly felt disconnected. Approaching my building, I passed Gene, the doorman who always greeted me with a discreet nod, never questioning my late-night returns or mentioning them to others. I handed him the rest of the money, a silent thank you for his discretion. He accepted it with a surprised, grateful smile, and I headed upstairs. The elevator ride to my penthouse was a solitary journey, a time to reflect on the night. The physical pain from the fight was nothing compared to the realization that, l
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3. Silent Struggles and Solutions

As I leaned against the cool glass of my penthouse window, the city stretched out below like a canvas of flickering lights.The suite was a masterpiece of modern luxury. High ceilings, walls adorned with abstract art, and sleek furniture that whispered of wealth and taste. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, a constant reminder of the heights I'd reached.Turning back to the soirée, I watched the city's elite mingle. The room was filled with opulent décor and designer attire, the air fragrant with expensive colognes and perfumes. My black suit, tailor-made, felt like a second skin, its fabric smooth and perfectly cut. I had chosen it for its understated elegance, a reflection of my personal style."Another successful evening, Mr. Lane," Roger, my trusted friend and business partner, commented as he joined me."Seems so," I replied, offering a smile that masked the hidden weariness these nights always brought.As a familiar melody began to play, a song fro
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4. Not Again

The boardroom at Lane Enterprises was packed. Industry titans sat around the long table, waiting for me to start the quarterly review. The overhead lights reflected off the polished table, but my mind wandered to the city below. The presentation felt like it was happening to someone else. I fiddled with my cufflinks, barely able to focus on the numbers flashing on the screen. I heard whispers. “Is Wyatt alright?” I didn’t care. The room full of investors, all of them expecting the usual charm and drive from me, could wait. The presentation continued, and I delivered the slides on autopilot. When it finally ended, the applause was polite but lacked any real energy. I stepped forward, offering the basics. “Thank you. Lane Enterprises remains committed to innovation.” Mr. Thompson, an executive, reached out to shake my hand. “Strong projections, Wyatt.” I shook his hand, my smile strained. “Thanks, the team worked hard.” Ms. Rivera joined us, asking about the expansion into Europe.
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5. Skipping Rocks

The darkness of the Lane Mansion enveloped us as we stepped inside, its vast corridors and grand rooms lying in silent repose. The only sign of life was usually Aiken, our butler, but given our unannounced arrival and his penchant for wine in the evenings, I suspected he was still fast asleep in his house out back. I flicked on the lights, and the mansion came to life, each switch illuminating parts of my past. The mansion's grandeur was overwhelming, yet it felt more like a museum than a home. I made my way to the den, the familiar scent of aged wood and leather greeting me. Flopping onto the plush couch, I watched Penelope move towards the kitchen. From my vantage point, I observed her with a quiet admiration. Penelope was at ease in the kitchen, where she had prepared countless meals over the years. Her movements were graceful and efficient, a dance she performed with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of the room. She moved from the fridge to the counter, her hands s
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6. Nothing Else Mattered

I stood by the creek, the weight of Penelope's words pressing down on me. In a moment of desperation, I picked up another stone and tossed it into the stream, watching the ripples expand and disappear. "What if I talk to Dr. Stclaire tomorrow? Would that buy me some time?" I asked, my voice a mix of hope and resignation. Penelope paused, her expression pensive. I could see the disappointment in her eyes, a clear indication she wished I would open up to her instead. But she knew the value of professional help, and the importance of addressing the issues I grappled with. "Yes," she finally said, her voice scarcely above a whisper, her surrender tinged with a sense of failure. Changing the subject, she looked at me, curiosity in her eyes. "Why did we need to come out here, Wyatt? What's going on?" I hesitated for a moment, then decided to divulge my plans. "I'm thinking of throwing a party here. A big one, for all the major players in New York. A grand ball right here at the Lane Man
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7. All Of It

The first fight set the tone for the night – brutal, unrelenting, and savage. My opponent, a burly man with a scarred face, came at me with ferocity. But I was faster, my moves honed by countless nights in the ring. The sound of our fists colliding was like thunder, a symphony of violence that drowned out the cheers of the crowd. "You call that a hit?" I taunted, my voice laced with contempt as I dodged his clumsy punch and countered with a swift jab to his jaw. The crack of bone was audible, a satisfying confirmation of my dominance.Blood splattered on the mat, drops flying with each strike I landed. His blood, my blood, it didn't matter. It was all part of the dance, the deadly ballet we performed under the flickering lights. The second fight was more challenging. My competition was younger, quicker, but he lacked experience. I exploited every opening, my attacks precise and cruel. "Come on, you can do better than that!" I shouted, my words dripping with scorn as I landed a brut
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8. Keep Your Eyes Open

Consciousness returned to me slowly, like a reluctant dawn. My mind was foggy, my thoughts tangled in a web of confusion. The stark white of the hospital room was the first thing I registered, a glaring contrast to the dark, chaotic world of the fight club. Panic surged through me as I realized there was a breathing tube down my throat. I couldn't talk, couldn't scream. My instinct was to reach for it, to pull it out, but I found my hands were restrained to the bed. The feeling of being trapped, unable to move freely, sent me into a frenzy. I thrashed against the bindings, my heart racing with fear and frustration. "No, no, no, Wyatt, stop!" Penelope's voice cut through my panic. She was suddenly there, leaning over me, her hands gently but firmly holding me down. "If you keep this up, they'll just sedate you again. Lay back, calm down. Let me get a nurse, and you can stay awake this time." Her words, especially 'this time,' struck me. How many times had I been in and out of consc
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9. Demanding

The tension in the room was real as Penelope slowly released her grip on my hair. Her eyes were blazing with anger, fear, and concern. She took several deep breaths, trying to compose herself, but the fury simmering beneath her calm exterior was evident. "How long have you been doing this? Fighting in that... that terrible place?" she asked, her voice trembling with a cocktail of emotions. A single tear escaped her eye as she spoke, tracing a path down her cheek. Instinctively, I tried to reach up to wipe it away, but she recoiled from my touch, pushing the marker into my hand instead. Her gesture stung, a reminder of the distance my actions had created between us. Reluctantly, I scribbled on the whiteboard, '2 years.' The admission felt like a heavy weight, a tangible acknowledgment of the secret life I had led. Her reaction was immediate. She gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "Two years?" she repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "Do you have any idea what could have happene
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10. Not Sedating You

After Dr. Andrews left the room, the reality of the situation seemed to crash down on me all at once. The walls of the hospital room felt like they were closing in, and the weight of my injuries, both physical and emotional, became overwhelmingly tangible. Once a sterile sanctuary of healing, the hospital room transformed into a stage for my rawest emotions. As I sat up abruptly, a wave of pain shot through my body, a stark reminder of the physical toll my reckless actions had taken. The sensation was like a thousand needles pricking my skin, each movement amplifying the agony of my broken rib and a punctured lung. But in that moment, the physical pain paled compared to the emotional avalanche about to break free.Reaching out with a trembling hand, I grasped Penelope's hand, bringing it to my lips in a gesture filled with so many unspoken words. My lips against her skin were a silent plea for forgiveness, an apology for the chaos I had brought into our lives, and a heartfelt thank yo
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