Page 30 of Triplet Babies for the CEO

She somehow understands me in ways I didn’t think were possible. She’s like this surprising constant that I didn’t realize I needed.

At the office, she’s been indispensable; there’s a newfound calm in the way things run now that she’s here. No more scrambling to remember meetings or catching mistakes in vendor contracts at the last minute.

Her attention to detail frees me up to focus on the bigger picture. She has it all covered and the way she anticipates needs, manages schedules, and even smooths out small conflicts within the team is seamless.

I feel more aware of the little things that used to pass me by and more grounded with her around.

In the past, I’d always prided myself on being a hands-on boss, someone respected by my staff, but maybe a bit too focused on getting things done over everything else.

But lately, I’ve started noticing things I never did before.

Tasha has this effect of slowing me down, of making me more mindful of the people around me.

I’m learning to listen better, to appreciate the nuances in the work and the relationships that keep this company running smoothly.

She’s made me a better manager and maybe, even in some ways, a better man.

Work has always been my first priority. I’ve never had much time or energy to think beyond the walls of Thorne and Thorne.

But now, with Tasha in my life, I’m starting to understand the value of more than just project deadlines and profit margins.

The balance she’s brought to my life has been something I never saw coming.

There’s a richness in these small, quiet moments, a sense of fulfillment that goes beyond anything money or career achievements could bring.

With her, I feel a comfort I haven’t felt in years: a rare, grounding kind of peace that reminds me I’m more than just a CEO.

These thoughts float through my mind as I’m on my way home from the office, watching the sun dip low on the horizon, casting that rich, orange glow across the fields.

Tasha hasn’t been feeling well the past two days, and she’s been working from home today.

I find myself wondering if Dana has put something light together for dinner that Tasha might feel up to eating. Dinner will probably be soup if I had to guess.

Dana’s got an eye for knowing what everyone needs before they even ask. It’s a talent that I admire.

I can’t help but feel a bit of pride as I pull into the long gravel drive that winds up to the ranch. With the mansion centered in a way that overlooks both the lake and the rolling pastureland, the ranch sprawls over hundreds of acres.

It’s quiet out here, peaceful in a way the office never is, and it makes me appreciate this life I’ve built even more.

I head over to the big red barn in the back after parking. We keep a small herd of cattle, mostly a hobby, but it feels good to be close to the land and the animals. Inside, I check on their feed, making sure everything’s stocked up for the night.

The cattle are quiet, some already settling down for the evening, and there’s a soft breeze stirring through the open barn doors, sending the smell of hay into my nose.

Standing here, surrounded by the quiet sounds of the animals and the hum of the evening, it feels like a different world from the work site chaos and the boardroom.

Soon, I’ll be back inside, checking on Tasha, and that thought alone makes me want to wrap things up here and head in.

As I walk into the house, my gut tightens, and I stop, listening, trying to pinpoint where the distraught noise is coming from.

Immediately, I notice the soft, uneven sound of someone crying.

Checking the living room, I then head down the hall, finally moving toward the den. It isn’t until I step into the kitchen that I find Tasha slumped over the kitchen table, face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

She’s sitting in front of her laptop, a notepad filled with scribbled notes beside her, and I can tell she’s been at this for hours.

The sight hits me hard, like a punch to the chest, and all I want to do is make this better for her. I cross the room quietly without thinking, pulling a chair up beside her, reaching a hand out to gently touch her shoulder.

“Hey,” I say softly, brushing a stray hair from her face as she lifts her head, eyes red and watery. “Tash, what’s wrong, babe?”

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