Saved By The Cold-Hearted Billionaire

Year 2014

Los Angeles, California

It was gloomy and quiet when Beckett arrived at their house with his brows furrowed. His parents, whom he expected to welcome him, were not there, despite informing them earlier that he would be coming home from Italy for their semester break.

"Mom? Dad?" Beckett called out in a slightly louder voice, but his voice only echoed throughout the place. "Rosie? Nicholas?" he called out to the workers, but no one answered him.

He grew more puzzled, but a smile crossed his face as he thought that maybe they wanted to surprise him.

"If you want to surprise me, I'm here. You can come out now," Beckett said, laughing lightly. He walked towards the stairs to go to his parent's room. "Ma—"

But he immediately stopped when he saw the drops of blood on the floor. When he looked at the stairs, he cursed as he saw traces of blood there as well, as if someone had dragged a body upstairs.

His entire body froze, and his heart started beating faster. He quickly ran up the stairs, and fearlessly opened the door to his parents' room.

He no longer cared if there was a dangerous person in that room or if they would kill him when they saw him.

His intuition told him that something bad happened... and he hated how his intuitions were mostly accurate.

"Mom!" Beckett called out again, and his jaw almost dropped at what he saw.

His parents were lying on the floor. Even from a distance, he could clearly see the stab wounds on their bodies, and the blood flowing towards him.

He didn't need to check whether they were dead or not—they were.

They weren't even breathing when he arrived. With the number of stab wounds his parents had, he was certain that whoever did this to them harbored a great deal of anger.

Beckett, as slowly as he could, walked forward until he reached his parents. He was sweating cold and trembling all over.

But he didn't let those emotions stop him. He still wanted to see his parents and hug them for the last time... despite them being lifeless.

But as he got closer to his parents, tears began to stream down his face. Beckett wasn't accustomed to violence. It was his first time seeing blood and such a horrific murder, but he never uttered a single word.

He never shouted or stumbled again.

Beckett knelt beside his mother, not even minding the blood sticking to his skin. He gently brushed his hand over her lifeless eyes, closing them, as tears fell onto his hands.

"Whoever did this to you two, I'll make sure to find them," Beckett declared.

But in the midst of the silence, he heard a faint noise outside their house. It sounded like a whistle, so he quickly stood up and looked out the window.

There, he saw a shirtless man walking in their garden as if nothing had happened. He had a knife in his right hand, playing with it in his other hand as he walked.

Beckett could only clench his fists in response as his voice almost left his throat. He was catching his breath when the man suddenly stopped walking and looked in his direction.

"More... More..." Beckett muttered, waiting for the right moment to memorize the face of his parents' murderer and drag him into the depths of hell.

He was about to see him in just a moment. Just a little longer...

"Fuck!" he cursed as he hit his head against the window.

He opened his eyes and met the gaze of his manager, Fiona, who was looking at him with a furrowed brow. He avoided her gaze before looking out the window again.

"Damn it," he added before massaging his temples.

He didn't realize that he had dozed off in the van while they were on their way somewhere. He had just come back from France for a photoshoot, and now he had another scheduled event upon his return. That's why he hadn't fully recovered from the trip yet.

"Are you alright?" Fiona asked. There was concern in her tone. "Another bad dream?"

Beckett simply nodded and didn't say anything. His head was still hurting slightly. It wasn't the first time he had dreamt of that incident.

After that event, he never had a good sleep. He had been sleep-deprived for almost seven years. Beckett felt like he was just a dead man walking. If it weren't for his desire to catch his parents' killer, he probably would have followed them as well.

"This is why I don't like sleeping. Fuck," Beckett muttered and snapped his neck.

"I told you to consult a doctor. You're wealthy anyway, and if you tell the higher-ups, they might even cover the expenses for you," Fiona said, thinking that Beckett was just reluctant to see a doctor because of the costs.

That annoyed Beckett, but he let it slide.

"No need. I can handle this alone," Beckett answered, and the headache subsided after a few seconds. "My schedule is also full. Aren't I packed with engagements?"

Although hesitant, Fiona nodded. She knew Beckett was right. He was one of the highest-earning talents at Syneverse Entertainment, and his projects were lined up left and right.

After a while, the car stopped. Beckett was puzzled to see that they were in front of the Grand Arena and that there were many reporters outside.

"Wait, where are we?" Beckett asked, furrowing his forehead. "Aren't we going to another photoshoot?"

"It's an awards show. Hello? Earth to Beckett?" Fiona snapped her fingers at him. "You're receiving an award for your first movie. With Jerusalem McBride, remember?"

"Ah." Beckett grimaced.

He remembered everything. He was going to receive an award today, and it was supposed to be with Jeru, one of his newest friends in the modeling industry. However, Jeru had something else to take care of and couldn't attend.

If he had any other choice, he wouldn't go here either. But the management pushed him to attend, especially since it was his first acting award, and he wouldn't do it again. Heck, he preferred smiling for the camera rather than pretending to love someone when it wasn't the case.

He grabbed the bottled water on the side before speaking. "I'll go out now."

"Wait, just like that?" Fiona said, reaching out to hold his arm as if trying to stop him.

Beckett nodded. "Why?"

"Did you forget about your scandal? Wait a moment." Fiona pressed something on her tablet. "Everyone, secure the place. Beckett Clainfer will walk the red carpet in a few minutes."

Beckett raised an eyebrow and waited until Fiona received a call. It was evident on his face that he was getting impatient.

Fiona looked at him closely before speaking.

"About the rumors circulating about you and Yanna... You didn't do it, right?" Fiona asked hesitantly. Her headache was starting to worsen. "You weren't labeled as the Nation's Perfect Guy to get involved in this mess."

"Of course not. Why would I have sex with a married woman?" Beckett replied, raising an eyebrow. "Our relationship is purely business. We just want to promote our movie together. That's all."

"Okay then," Fiona sighed. "Wait for a few minutes. We're just preparing the guards for your entrance."

Beckett simply nodded, and his hand went to his lips. He played with his lower lip using his fingers as he remembered the term, Nation's Perfect Guy.

His fans and the reporters were the ones who gave him that title. There hadn't been any substantial evidence against him, no matter how heavy or light the accusations were.

However, the rumors are true.

Beckett really slept with his leading lady days ago, especially since Yanna was the one who initiated it.

He didn't care if she was married or anything. As long as she moans and shivers under him, he wouldn't care about the consequences. Besides, he had people ready to clean up all his mess.

He isn't the Nation's Perfect Guy. Beckett just conceals all his wrongdoings.

At Fiona's cue and with Beckett's approval, his bodyguards opened the door. Chaos erupted as all the reporters suddenly saw him walk out and step onto the red carpet.

The guards stood by his side, protecting the great Beckett Clainfer from anyone who could harm him. While walking, the reporters bombarded him with questions.

"What can you say about the rumors circulating about you and Yanna Methias?"

"Is it true that something is going on between you and Yanna despite her being married?"

Beckett wanted to smack their faces so badly, but he maintained his composure. "I already answered that days ago. We only have a casual relationship."

Yanna always gave the same reason too. She knew what would happen if she spoke up. It would surely ruin her career and her family.

The reporters continued to ask him, but he didn't answer any further. He smiled pretentiously and waved his hand at the cameras, but his movement came to a halt when he heard something.

A whistle. The same whistle he heard seven years ago.

"Where was that?" Beckett asked his bodyguard, surprising the latter. "The whistle. Where did it come from?"

The bodyguard's brows furrowed, but he didn't answer. He didn't understand what Beckett was talking about because of the noise in the area; he hadn't heard any whistle.

But Beckett was certain of what he heard. It wasn't a part of his hallucination.

Beckett's gaze roamed around the area. The fake smile on his face disappeared. He desperately tried to find the person who made the whistle, but he found none.

'Why am I hearing it here?' Beckett asked himself. 'Does he know me?'

Suddenly, he snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that he was in the middle of the red carpet. He continued walking as if nothing had happened, and only one thing was on his mind as he did so.

'I promise to find you wherever you are, so I can kill you with my own hands.'

The pain he felt gave him the pleasure of living afterward. He made the pain his fuel to continue surviving, ensuring that he would find his parent's killer.

But what he didn't know was that the person was right there, in the same place as him, silently watching him until Beckett entered the Grand Arena.