The C.E.O'S shattered heart (MxM, C.E.O X C.E.O)

Chapter 4. Troubled heart Part 1

"They will also have a talent for business as you do. Both of you will rule the business world together. I will always be with you, my child. Try to forgive your father for abandoning you. He doesn't show it, but he loves you very much. Please, stay healthy and happy, Alexei. I will be watching you from heaven. Your loving grandmother, Anastasia." I carefully put my grandmother's letter back in its envelope, then placed it in my safe. I was eighteen years old when I took over my grandmother's empire. I was now twenty-eight and I was sure that I had met my desired one once.

I was certain that I had met my other half when I was roaming the streets of L.A. I walked out of my father's car when he stopped at a bakery to buy a cake for his wife. I became irritated when he started telling me how important it was for me to follow his instructions. My father hadn't even asked me about how I felt about my grandmother's death or how I was feeling. He kept on talking about my duties as if his life depended on it.

My father had never shown interest in me. I didn't know what I was expecting from him. I could see how happy my father was with his wife and son the moment I laid my eyes on him at the airport. I realized what a big mistake I had made when I noticed that I didn't have my wallet and my phone with me.

I had already walked a few blocks away from the bakery when I noticed it. I didn't even know the bakery's name or in which street it was. I was so angry at that moment that I hadn't paid any attention to the signs. I felt like an idiot for making such a big mistake. I cursed myself when I realized how childish I had been. I decided to stay where I was and ask the police for assistance. Things didn't go as I planned. I started attracting people's attention with my looks and my French accent. I barely escaped when a few boys tried to rob me. The boys didn't believe me when I said that I didn't have any money. I wouldn't have gotten away if someone hadn't called out to the boys.

I escaped without thanking the kind stranger. I later discovered how dangerous the streets of L. A was. There were no police in sight. I was afraid to approach people, so I kept on walking. I met a homeless man on the first night. The man was eager to share his meal with me. He explained to me how all the policemen were linked to the mafia when I asked him for help. Something happened every time I tried to seek help. I even got led to a strip club once.

I was tired, and I asked myself if this was a punishment for acting stupid. People stopped approaching me after the second day. I had grown a stubble by now, and my clothes were dirty. People didn't even pay attention to me when I called out to them. The people who lived on the streets were more generous than the people who walked by.

The homeless people shared their meals and their stories with me. I learned a lot from them. The odd thing was that none of them wanted to lead me to a police station, no matter how many times I asked. I started feeling sick on the fifth day. I sat down and leaned against the wall to catch my breath after reaching out to people. I didn't realize when I fell asleep. I got startled when someone kicked me hard. I quickly opened my eyes to see who it was and saw a beautiful man standing before me. The man yelled, "Hey!" while kicking me again. I looked in a daze at the man when he handed a carefully folded note to me.

The man groaned while looking in the direction of the restaurant that was across the street. I followed the man's gaze and saw another man standing in front of the restaurant. This man was wearing an apron, and he had a mop in his hand. He was encouraging his friend to continue. If the man who had approached me was beautiful than this man was gorgeous. I smiled when I saw the other man giving me a thumbs up to wish me good luck. The man who had kicked me uttered, "Idiot," while looking at the other man.

He then groaned and yelled, "Open the note, you imbecile!" I quickly opened the note and looked in surprise at the dollar bills that fell out. I could easily count the money. There was close to fifty dollars lying on my lap. I frowned at the man who had kicked me earlier, then asked him, "Why did you give me money?" The man seethed hearing, my accent then responded to me with, "He is the one who gave you the money and the note and not me. It's probably his grocery money for this month or something."