The Billionaires Debt Of Blood

For five years, Hudson Montgomery and I were a disaster written in expensive ink. We were a cycle of breaking up and making up, a toxic dance fueled by old money and new wounds.

He had his rotation of "interns" and aspiring models; I had my flings with younger, prettier men who didn't come with his baggage. We lived by a single, unspoken rule: don’t bring the mess home. We stayed out of each other's way until we didn’t.

Then came the night he filled the sky with fireworks and promised me a real life. A quiet life.