The Billionaire Who Forgot How to Love

Chapter 13: The Man the Mirror Remembers

The morning sun didn't ask for permission when it slid through the slats of the old Vienna shutters. It just arrived — uninvited, unannounced, and honest. Elias sat on the balcony with black coffee cooling beside him, legs crossed, eyes lost.

He hadn't slept.

Not because of nightmares. But because silence had become too loud lately. A new kind of haunting — not by ghosts, but by healing.

Inside, Liv was still asleep, curled against the side of the bed he never touched anymore. Not because he didn't want to. But because he feared she'd feel the cracks he hadn't fixed.

Selene's room upstairs flickered with the light of early writing. He could hear her type. Stop. Delete. Try again. Her process was his mirror. Creating what she couldn't say. Much like him.

A Letter From Himself

In the drawer of his study desk sat an unopened envelope, yellowed with time and sealed in wax. It was addressed to himself — written a week before he died in his first life.

He hadn't dared open it.

Until now.

Dear Elias,

If you're reading this, then somehow, some version of you survived the version of you I became. I hope you're not like me anymore.

I spent my whole life winning things I didn't need to impress people I didn't love.

I hope you learn how to lose better than I ever did.

Sincerely, The Man Who Forgot To Look Back.

Elias folded it. Didn't cry. But he let it stay in his pocket all day. Like a stone you keep to remind yourself not to sink.

The Interview That Almost Happened

A major magazine wanted to do a cover story on "The Disappeared Billionaire." The reporter, a young woman named Clare, tracked him to a philosophy lecture Selene gave in Budapest.

"Why hide?" she asked him after the talk.

Elias smiled. "Because when you've lost everything, peace feels like the only thing worth protecting."

Clare didn't write the story. But she did leave a note:

You're the only man I've met who has everything and still wants nothing. That makes you dangerous — to all the right people.

Selene and the Broken Clock

That night, Selene found an old grandfather clock in an antique shop.

"It doesn't work," the shopkeeper said.

"Neither did my father," she replied. "But he rebuilt himself."

She brought it home. And without telling anyone, fixed it. It chimed at 3:17 a.m. the next night. Elias woke to the sound. And smiled.

Liv's Journal — Left Open on Purpose

Elias found it on the kitchen counter. The page was folded open. She never left things out.

There are days I still wonder who he loves more: the woman I am, or the version of me who saved him.

But then he makes the coffee just right. And smiles like the weight of the world still lives on his back. That's how I know it's me.

He wrote back on the margin:

It's always been you. Even before I knew what love was.

A Package from the Past

Elias received a package with no return address. Inside: a worn-out toy car, the kind his brother used to collect.

And a single photo.

Of a younger Elias. Smiling.

On the back, in familiar handwriting:

Don't forget who you were before they told you who to be.

The Attic Memory

One rainy afternoon, Elias climbed to the attic alone. Dust clung to the air like the past refusing to leave. In a corner, under a broken trunk, he found a box sealed with red string — old photographs, contracts, a ring box.

He opened it.

Inside was the engagement ring he once planned to give Mireille.

He stared at it. Then whispered, "I loved wrong, but I loved real."

He didn't cry. But he didn't put it back, either. He placed the ring on the attic floor and walked away. He left the past there — not forgotten, but finally unclaimed.

Selene's Confession

That night, as rain kissed the roof and thunder rumbled in the distance, Selene sat by the fireplace with Elias.

"I remember something," she said quietly. "From the first timeline. I was little, but I remember crying in a room alone. And I remember a voice... yours... saying sorry like it was a prayer."

Elias turned, startled.

"I didn't think you remembered any of it," he said.

"I think we remember pain in our bones, not our minds."

He reached for her hand, but Selene had already walked away. She didn't need comfort. She just needed to be heard.

An Unexpected Visitor

The next morning, a knock came at the door. Elias opened it to find Helena, his former assistant from his first life — the one who stayed until the end.

She looked older. Stronger.

"I just wanted to know," she said, "was it worth it?"

Elias nodded slowly. "Yes. Because this time, I didn't chase love. I let it stay."

She smiled. "You finally learned."

He offered her tea. They sat and spoke for hours — not as boss and employee, but as survivors of the same fire.

The Choice That Changed Everything

Elias had one last asset — a silent tech company in Singapore, untouched and thriving.

He signed the papers to give it to a foundation under Selene's name.

"She'll build something better," he told Liv.

"You're letting go of everything," she said.

"No," Elias replied. "I'm finally keeping the right things."

A Ritual by the River

On the last day of autumn, Elias, Liv, and Selene stood by the Danube.

Each held something from the past — a letter, a photo, a token of grief.

One by one, they let them float downriver.

Selene whispered, "To the versions of us that didn't make it."

And Elias closed his eyes, whispering, "Thank you for the pain. It made this possible."

A Night at the Rooftop Cafe

A week later, Elias took Liv and Selene to a quiet rooftop cafe that overlooked the lights of the city. The air was crisp, filled with cinnamon and firewood. Selene laughed for the first time in weeks, the kind of laugh that wasn't weighed down by remembering.

"I like this place," she said, sipping her cocoa.

Elias leaned in. "It used to be a place I came to think about leaving everything behind."

Liv looked at him, puzzled. "And now?"

He smiled. "Now it's the place I think about staying."

The Mirror That Finally Reflected

That night, Elias stood before the mirror in their hallway. For the first time in both lives, he didn't look for flaws. He didn't see a broken man. Or a billionaire. Or a failure.

He saw a father.

He saw a man trying every day.

And for the first time, he whispered, "I think you're worth loving."