Page 130 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

He stares at me, genuinely shocked. The manic energy seems to drain out of him, leaving him looking… lost. Almost... pathetic. “Not… not going? What thefuckare you talking about? This is us! This is what wedo! Where’s the old Leo? The one who lived for this shit? The one who couldn’t wait for the next jump?”

“He died in Chamonix,” I say quietly, the words surprising even myself with their stark truth. “The guy who jumped off that cliff… he didn’t make it back.”

Luca just gapes at me, speechless for once. Then, a humorless laugh escapes him. “You’re not serious. You’re fucking with me, right? This is some kind of… phase? This whole dad-playing-house thing?”

“It’s not a phase, Luca.” My voice is hard now. “It’s my life. Mia is my daughter. Sabrina…” I hesitate, unsure how to define what Sabrina is to me. “Sabrina is her mother.Theyare my priority now.”

“Priority?” Luca practically spits the word. “Since when do you have priorities beyond the next billion-dollar exit or adrenaline rush? This…woman… thisbaby… they’re temporary fucking distractions! Novelties! You’ll get bored. You always do. And then what? You’ll come crawling back, begging me to find the next cliff, the next party, the next line of coke to make you feel alive again!”

Rage surges through me. The casual cruelty of his words, the dismissive contempt for Sabrina and Mia… it snaps something inside me.

“Get out, Luca,” I say, my voice dangerously quiet.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my apartment.” I stand up and take a painful step towards him. “You don’t talk about them like that. Not ever. Not if you want to continue being my business partner. You don’t understand what they are to me, and frankly, you’re not fucking capable of understanding. SO GET THEFUCKOUT.”

Luca’s face contorts in a mixture of anger and disbelief. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a long moment. He finally blinks away tears and says: “So that’s it? You’re choosing…this…her... over everything we’ve built? Over me?”

“This isn’t a choice between them and you, Luca,” I say, trying to rein in the fury. “This is about me choosing… something different. Something genuine. Something you wouldn’t recognize if it bit you on your coke-dusted nose.” I pause, then add, more quietly, “You need help, man. You’re spiraling. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this... it’s too much. Getting high in the middle of the workday? As your friend and a business partner, I’m telling you... you should seriously consider rehab.”

He laughs again, a harsh, empty sound. “Ineed help?I?What the fuck? Look at yourself, Leo! You’re the one who’s fucking lost it! Domesticated! Whipped! You’re fucking pathetic!”

“Maybe I am,” I concede. “But at least I’m not running from myself anymore. I’m trying to build something instead of just… burning it all down. Something real. More real than flipping companies for shits and giggles, anyway.” I gesture towards the exit. “Seriously, Luca. Go. Before I say something we both regret.”

He stares at me for a long, hard moment. His jaw is tight, and his eyes glitter with unshed tears.

Then, without another word, he turns and stalks towards the exit. Limping, I follow him part of the way, making sure he reaches the private elevator. Thomas is waiting there, his expression impassive.

The doors hiss open, Luca steps inside with Thomas, and then they’re gone.

The silence feels heavier than before.

I also feel a profound sense of loss. Not for the friendship, maybe. That died a long time ago, replaced by codependency and shared addictions.

But loss for the man Luca used to be. The driven, brilliant partner who helped me build an empire. The guy I thought I could trust. The guy that money and drugs destroyed.

I walk over to the window, staring out at the city. The PR campaign, the investor confidence, Maxwell & Briggs… all that bullshit feels secondary right now. Trivial, even.

What matters is Mia. Sabrina. The fragile, unexpected chance at… something real.

My phone pings on the coffee table. I pick it up.

An email notification from Red Bull.

Chamonix Invitational. Early Bird Entry.

I open it. It’s the official invitation for the new competition in six months.

I read it over, and a yearning, deep and primal, stirs inside me. The call of the void. The silence ofthe fall.

No.

Hell no.

Mia...

Sabrina...

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