Page 9 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

Chapter Four

“Idon’t understand,” Madi said, staring over at Bret. He looked, as usual, completely out of place sitting in his crisp suit on the worn patio furniture. Nearby in the small backyard, Becka was digging with both hands in the small sandbox, made of plastic and shaped like a turtle. March in Houston had amazing weather, and she was glad that the cooler days were gone. Becka always wanted to be outside, warm or not.

Bret’s smile was wide. “He wants to meet you.”

“Why?”

Madi had started to regret accepting Bret’s help to contact Becka’s father. She knew that Calista had been working on this before her death, so it must have been important to her. But Madi didn’t want to come across as money-hungry or like she was looking for some kind of handout.

Though in all truth, her financial situation was pretty dire. She needed a job, but a job would mean putting Becka in full-time daycare. The daycares she had looked at would take so much of her paycheck that she couldn’t afford her rent. She would need to move into an apartment or a smaller rental. Or perhaps somewhere farther out in the suburbs where the prices dropped considerably. Even a move would cost money.

She might not want to take money from some strange man she’d never met, but a tiny part of her hoped that he might be someone with enough money to help keep her afloat. For Becka’s sake. It’s not like Madi wanted anything extravagant. If she was thirty-one and still didn’t own a home or even more things than she could fit in the smallest-sized U-Haul, she definitely was not into the material things.

“He said that he wanted to discuss terms with you present.” Bret used a voice when he said this along with a slight eye roll, giving Madi the impression he didn’t like Becka’s dad.

Her heart dropped a little. This whole thing made her nervous. Well, everything about her new life as a single caretaker for Becka made her nervous. But at the very back of her mind, where she didn’t even want to acknowledge it, there was a tiny seed of hope that Becka’s father might be a good guy. Maybe the kind of man who would want to be a father to her.

Madi watched Becka, who had a single-minded focus on getting as much sand as she could into a red plastic bucket. She looked so much like Calista with her blue eyes and almost white-blond hair in unruly curls around her shoulders.

The ache of loss moved through her limbs, making Madi feel suddenly heavy. She missed Calista. They hadn’t ever been very close, but Madi had loved her. There was the age distance in addition to the fact that they were just polar opposites. Maybe if their parents hadn’t both died of cancer within a year of each other when Calista was just seventeen, it might have been different. Madi ended up trying to parent Calista, which didn’t work and also ruined their sisterly relationship.

Dealing with their funerals and the details of the estate had put extra pressure on Madi, so their relationship hadn’t been the top priority. There hadn’t been a lot of money and after Calista graduated high school and turned eighteen, they decided to sell the house. Madi had used her share of the money and what their parents left them to pay for Calista’s first year of college, only to have her drop out to pursue modeling.

Calista always accused her of judging her lifestyle. And Madi had been judgmental—she realized this now. She often told herself that she did it because she cared about her sister, but Madi could see now how Calista had been right.

Madi had been too open with her opinions about the parties and late nights and ever-changing men. She still held those opinions, but voicing them so strongly had put an increasing strain on her relationship with Calista. If she had shown more grace or been kinder, maybe Calista would have opened up to her more. She had wanted what was best for Calista, but could see how it might have just seemed like she was trying to change her behavior. She had failed in so many ways.

The realization that she would never have a chance to right this wrong intensified the heavy grief. Madi sometimes felt like she was sinking under the weight of her guilt and loss.

“Look, mama! Bucket!” Becka struggled to lift the bucket by its plastic handle. Joy shone from her face as she successfully pulled the full bucket a few inches above the sand.

“Good job, Becka!” Madi didn’t correct her for saying “mama.” At this point, she should probably let it slide. It’s not like Becka would remember her mother.

“Are you okay?” Bret seemed like he was trying to channel a tenderness that he didn’t possess. As much as he had done for Madi since Calista died, he was not a comforting sort of man.

Madi brushed away stray tears, her heart lifting some as she watched Becka. “I’m fine. What’s he like?”

Bret made a noise, only confirming her suspicions that he didn’t like the man. “Beckett Van de Kamp is a stuffy, self-important businessman.”

“Oh. He sounds … delightful. Will he fight me for custody of Becka?”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. Hopefully, we can come out of this financially solid, but you won’t have to interact with him more than possible.”

“Bret, I told you that I didn’t want to make this about the money.”

“And I told you that we aren’t asking for anything outrageous. Child support is expected.”

Madi noticed that Bret said “we,” not “you.” So far, she and Bret had not talked about financials. She simply couldn’t afford him and he hadn’t asked for payment. Would he expect a payment from some kind of settlement? That seemed fair, but she didn’t have much experience with this kind of thing. She’d have to ask someone in her online mom support group. A few of the women in there were divorced. Madi really hoped Bret wasn’t keeping track and planning to charge her by the hour.

Bret smiled. “You definitely don’t need to worry about putting a financial strain on him. Have you heard of Van de Kamp International?”

The name seemed vaguely familiar. “Do they make fish sticks?”

Bret barked out a laugh. “Fish sticks? No. Well, maybe. I wouldn’t know, but if that’s a fish stick company, it’s likely different from this Van de Kamp.”

Madi rolled her eyes and smiled. “For obvious reasons, I’m a little more familiar with fish sticks.”

“Fish stick?” Becka asked.

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