Bought with Millions, Paid with Death Chapter 06

Bought with Millions, Paid with Death Chapter 06

The hysterical crossfire of flashing cameras and microphones completely failed to sway public opinion. 

On the contrary, Noah’s unhinged, barking meltdown only turned him into the internet’s biggest laughingstock. 

Everyone assumed he was just insanely jealous of Leo and trying to milk a dead woman’s tragedy for clout. 

Desperate to validate his manic claims, Noah fired off an explosive tweet from his personal account late that night. 

Bypassing PR entirely, he posted an unfiltered photo of slightly yellowed pages–the very “kept man” contract I’d tossed at him on a snowy night in Paris five years ago. 

His caption reeked of desperate lunacy: [Yes, we started because of this contract. But I truly fell in love with her later. Blame me for being too much of a coward to admit it. I didn’t realize how stupid I was until I lost her.] 

That confession bought him zero sympathy. The comments section instantly drowned him in vitriol, tearing him apart for being a vulture mining a tragedy, a sickening clown who wouldn’t even let the dead rest. 

“Enough!” Marcus stormed into the apartment, snatching Noah’s phone, powering it off, and chucking it across the sofa. “Are you trying to tank 

your career entirely? Just shut your mouth and finish your shoot!” 

Noah didn’t argue. Looking like a hollow shell, he curled into a tight ball on the massive bed, clutching my old cashmere cardigan and burying his face deeply into the familiar fabric. 

With trembling hands, he tapped out two sleeping pills from the nightstand and dry–swallowed them, whispering into the void. 

“As long as I fall asleep… I can see Miranda again, right? I loved you so much. Why didn’t I realize it sooner?” over 

Over the next few days, Noah’s mental state on set was horrifyingly fragile. Whenever he saw visiting couples or rehearsed intimate scenes, he’d freeze up like a broken machine. 

In this zombified state, he barely survived the production. 

He skipped the wrap party entirely, scrubbed off his makeup, and drifted home like a ghost. 

Floating in mid–air, I watched this walking corpse. with zero emotional ripples. The only thing on my mind was my old suburban house–his final ” severance package.” 

Frustrated by Peggy dragging her feet, I materialized. as a biting draft in the dead of night, slipping into her dreams to force the key handover so this toxic chapter could finally end. 

Early the next morning, Peggy knocked on Noah’s door, her expression stone–cold. 

When the door swung open, even I winced. The once- untouchable top model now sported a scruffy beard and deeply sunken eyes, radiating a nauseating aura of decay. 

With unfiltered disgust, Peggy rigidly shoved a brass key and an envelope at his chest. “Miranda specifically asked me to give this to you. The letter only says: ‘This house is yours now.“” 

It was the suburban home where I used to live alone, holding all my quiet years before I ever met him. 

That very afternoon, Noah packed his sad luggage and moved in. He became a total recluse, locking himself in the dim rooms and drowning in booze. 

He traced his fingers over my old writing desk, his tears mixing with cheap liquor on the floorboards. 

Then, at dusk one evening without any warning, he grabbed the bottle of sleeping pills, tipped a massive handful directly into his mouth, and swallowed them dry. 

Hovering above, my eyes widened in sheer horror. 

“Are you genuinely insane?!” I screamed at deaf ears Killing yourself over a pathetic shred of guilt? I paid top dollar for your miserable life!” 

But he simply turned off his phone, lay flat on that vintage bed, and a sick, relieved smile curved his lips. 

If Peggy hadn’t doubled back for a forgotten spare key, he’d be in a body bag right now. 

The piercing wail of ambulance sirens shattered the dead silence of the suburbs. 

A few days later, Noah violently jolted awake in a hospital bed downtown. 

Marcus, having just dismissed a hired caregiver, turned and slammed a cheap plastic phone onto the bedside table with a furious scowl. “Care to explain 

What the hell this is? I found it hidden in while cleaning up your suicide mess. your house It was his old burner–the exact number he used to Lide from me to secretly text his PR flings. 

Noah lunged for it like a madman. The moment his trembling fingers woke the screen, a glaring blackmail text from Riley popped up. 

Blacklisted by the industry and kicked to the curb by her sugar daddies, she was snapping like a rabid dog. She demanded immediate hush money, threatening to sell their explicit bed photos to the tabloids and drag him to hell with her. 

The dead ash in Noah’s eyes violently flared into a blood–red inferno. 

He viciously ripped out his IV, ignoring the splattering blood, threw off the sheets, and stormed out. 

“What lunatic phase is this now?!” Marcus stomped his feet furiously behind him. 

Half an hour later, Noah kicked down the door of Riley’s rundown apartment. 

Thinking her blackmail worked, Riley sauntered up to him. “Noah, you finally decided to see me. I knew you didn’t have the guts to-” 

“shut the hell up!” Noah lunged forward, grabbed her by the throat, and slammed her against the wall. 

He wrestled her phone from her grasp and shoved the screen straight into her face to bypass the Face ID. 

He didn’t just look at the photo–he swiped straight up, reading the vile, explicit text chains she had secretly sent me behind his back. 

He had seen the photo before, but he never knew the sheer venom of the words attached to it. Reading the exact ways Riley had sneered, provoked me, and practically mocked me into my grave, Noah shook uncontrollably. 

He raised his hand and delivered a vicious slap that sent Riley crashing to the floor, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. 

“You kept backups to blackmail me? And you actually sent her all this garbage while I was completely passed out?!” he roared, his eyes entirely bloodshot. 

“I didn’t even know what I was doing that night! I was blackout drunk in the wrong hotel room, but you set me up and ruined her!” 

Riley clung desperately to her last lifeline, spitting blood onto the floor. “The awards afterparty! You pinned me to the bed, did you really forget?! It was me, but you kept screaming HER name!” 

That single sentence acted as a sledgehammer, pulverizing the absolute last shred of Noah’s sanity. 

Staggering back, he slapped himself hard across the face, instantly drawing blood from his own mouth, 

No wonder she walked away without looking back,” he choked out in total agony, his soul shredding to pieces. “When she was going through hell, I was busy fighting with her over a bitch like you!” 

“I deserve to die…” He laughed and sobbedsimultaneously, a bone–chilling madness dancing in his eyes. “But you’re coming down to hell with me!” 

Under Riley’s terrified gaze, Noah spun around and bolted into the kitchen. Seconds later, he charged out gripping a razor–sharp boning knife. 

Without a millimeter of hesitation, he lunged at the shrieking woman and drove the blade down hard.