THE REMORSEFUL BILLIONAIRE

Nathan’s POV

While still at the office, diligently aiming to finish up the task for the day before visiting the kids and then heading home to retire, the sudden invasion of some policemen into the office caught me off guard. I was furious and perplexed by this unruly behaviour.

“What’s the meaning of this?” I asked while the boss approached me and confiscated my laptop that was on the desk.

“You are under arrest for the assault of Catherine Jones. You are advised to contact your attorneys,” the detective said, and he showed me his identity card before pocketing it back.

“Catherine Jones. And who the hell is that?” I fired back. Without any response, the detective handcuffed me and guided me out of the room.

Catherine-the name sounds familiar, but Jones-I have never heard of it. Catherine was a casual sex partner, and we were still together last week. I had completely forgotten all about her until she called me last week and I met up with her at the hotel. Somehow, unable to quench my sexual desires, I ended up having sex with her.

I regretted the encounter deeply later on, and I wished I had refrained myself. The sex we have is always a consexual one; it seemed impossible to be the Catherine I know. Perhaps the identity was just coincidental.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

As I was led into the hallway, my personal assistant ran towards me and told me he had notified my father, who in turn would be contacting my lawyers. We retreated into the ground floor, and I saw cameras with vibrant lights flashing at me-it was the press; their presence had already caused an uproar.

“Hello, Mr. Nathan.” The first journalist addressed. “What do you have to say about the allegations made against you? She asked and extended a microphone towards my face, only for one of the detectives to shove it away.

“Are these allegations true?” the second journalist interjected.

“As a billionaire son, you must have thought you could get away with any crime. Do you think you can evade justice?” The third journalist challenged in a disdainful tone.

Oblivious to my surroundings, my eyes travelled to the rear end of the hall, and I saw John with an evil, mocking, and satisfied smirk plastered on his face. Our eyes met, and he maintained the gaze between us before eventually bursting into a laugh.

The laughter confirmed all the assumptions I had. John was the architect of all these, and I was caught in his evil scheme. Right there, a wave of fear washed over me, combined with a deep fury directed at myself. I’m fully aware of how dangerous John could be, and yet I have fallen into his trap. I haven’t been careful to avoid his evil tactics.

He stopped laughing and shot me a condescending glare, as if to mean “I warned you,” spreading his arms in a gesture of mockery, and then walked out of the hall. Shortly after, I was led into a black van, and we drove to the precinct.

Throughout the drive to the precinct, my thoughts raced uncontrollably, putting together fragments of recent events, and it all made sense. The events with Felix and Judith were orchestrated by John. I had always wondered how Felix happened to know so much, and all the plans he devised were too perfect not to require the assistance of a close ally. I have been suspecting John for some time, not knowing I was actually right.

But how did John ever find out? Then my mind drifted back to when I was discussing with my father in his study the day Judith came visiting. I heard a faint sound that day and disregarded it as nothing. So he had eavesdropped that day.

John could be very dumb when it comes to business matters and other things, but he is a pro at devising evil schemes and getting back at his enemies, and he also enjoys leveraging the media to his advantage.

With the media involved, getting myself out of this will require significant effort. I could imagine the sensational headlines that would eventually pique public interest in the case.

I had always known John to be treacherous, but I have decided to be lenient with him. I have always known him to be dirty, but I chose to be clean with him because I wanted to reform myself to be a better person.

Now my leniency has been mistaken for stupidity. The good reputation I have managed to earn is on the verge of being completely ruined. And soon enough, I might find myself serving jail time for a crime of which I’m entirely innocent.

With those last thoughts, I exclaimed, “Nathan, you fool.” I then buried my handcuffed hands in my hair. Everyone in the van stared at me, visibly startled by my sudden outburst.

We arrived at the precinct, and I was led inside hurriedly as there were journalists waiting outside already. As I entered, I met my personal assistant and Jessie, who was already there. Jessie’s once vibrant and pretty face was now overshadowed with sadness and deep concern.

She moved towards me and patted me on the shoulder. “You will be fine. Father and the lawyers are on their way,” she said reassuredly. Speechless, I merely nodded before she walked back to take a seat, and I was led to the interrogation room accompanied by some detectives.

The chief detective yelled angrily the moment we stepped in. “And who the hell leaked this case to the press?”

“We don’t know, sir,” the three other detectives chorused, their voices a blend of fear and uncertainty.

“You know how exhausting dealing with the press can be?” He said that and groaned. “They are constantly waiting for us to make some kind of mistake.” No one talks to the press about this case. No interviews should be granted. Am I clear? He demanded authoritatively as he pointed towards them while pacing in front of them.

“Yes, sir,” they chorused again.

“Now, let’s get back to work,” he ordered, seating himself across from where I was positioned.

“So, Mr. Nathan,” he began, his tone direct and formal. “You have been accused of being in possession of hard drugs and assault. What do you have to say about this? Are you pleading guilty or innocent?

I was speechless for a moment before I finally found my voice and said, “I’m innocent.”

“Very well,” he replied, though his tone showed he wasn’t convinced. “Since you plead innocent, we will proceed with getting a warrant for a drug test and also a search warrant for your residence and office,” he said, closing the file on the table and preparing to leave.

“Wait,” I interjected, my voice filled with desperation. “Can you at least tell me about this Catherine Jones?

He hesitated and then sat back. He slid a file that was labelled “VICTIM” across the table. Opening it, I saw the picture of the woman I had known-the same one I had shared a bed with for three years-the one I had paid handsomely well because of her sexual satisfaction with me.

The very same Catherine I have known all too well, her personal information and statement clearly and boldly written, presenting a clear, indisputable truth before me…