The Billoniare's Fake Husband

Tyler's pov

"You ungrateful piece of shit," my mom yelled through the phone. "After everything I've done for you, Tyler. I even decided to keep you instead of flushing you out when I had the opportunity to."

It was nothing new, but the story was always new.

"I told you I don't have that kind of money," I said calmly.

"You told me you were working, didn't they pay you?" she asked, anger lacing her tone.

"Even if they did, it's not much," I replied, frustration edging into my voice.

"I don't care. Find it. You have seven months to come up with the money and send it. That's the least you can do for your mother."

She ended the call.

I hated my life.

Ever since my dad died of liver cancer when I was twelve, my mom had spiraled-drinking, gambling, constantly taking out loans she couldn't pay back, then guilt-tripping me into covering them. She also went as far as making her boyfriends touch me so they could pay her. In high school I survived on scholarships and had to go through different stages of bullying. And I also had to work to pay my tuition through college.

Why give birth to me only to hate me this much?

I kept telling myself she just missed her husband, excusing her terrible behavior with my father's death.

I had just finished a contracted editing job for a renowned publishing company in New York and needed a breather, so I took a trip to Vegas. Only for my mother to call a few hours after my arrival and tell me she'd taken out a ten-million-dollar loan-and expected me to pay it back.

How?

Where was I supposed to get that kind of money?

How did she even owe that much?

Why me?

Fuck.

I slammed my phone down on the receptionist counter harder than I meant to. I hoped the screen didn't crack, but I didn't bother checking.

"Sorry." I said to the lady behind the counter and headed to the bar.

Kingston Hotel was luxurious-the kind of place only rich people frequented. I wasn't rich enough to be here, but I wanted to enjoy a taste of what little I'd earned.

When I got to the bar area, they were having some sort of masked party. I looked around and hesitated for a bit.

"Fuck it, I deserve some fun too." I muttered to myself and walked to the huge guy giving out masks.

"Do I have to pay for that?" I whispered to the guy.

"Nah, it's free." His old voice rumbled.

I collected a brown mask to match the colour of my eyes which were the colour of hazelnut, not that anyone would notice.

A slow romantic song was on and a few people were on the dance floor.

I went straight to the bartender and ordered three shots of tequila and downed all of them like I'd been thirsty for days. The burn made me feel