Page 161 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“Accidental,” he says immediately. “Stress-related. Exhaustion. Whatever. Not… not what it probably is.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “We have to minimize the damage to the firm. Reassure the Limited Partners. Standard procedure.”

Standard procedure for a potential drug overdose threatening to destabilize a multi-billion dollar investment firm.

Of course.

It’ll be easy as pie, given all the other PR problems his company has had recently.

Right.

“I can handle the external communications,” I say. “Draft a statement, manage the media inquiries. But Leo…” I hesitate, knowing I’m crossing a line, but I need to ask. I lower my voice, stepping closer so only he can hear. “Vivian mentioned… Luca spiraling. But Leo, areyou… are you still using? Anything?”

His eyes flash, a brief spark of the old anger. Then it’s gone, replaced by something weary.

He shakes his head. “No, Sabrina. Not since… not since you told me about Mia.” His voice is almost rough. “You have to believe me. I wouldn’t lie about this.”

I search his eyes. I know, in my heart, he’s telling the truth. And I nod slowly. “I do.”

He presses his lips together, and his chin starts to quiver. I can tell he’s holding back tears. “Fuck, maybe… maybe that’s part of it. Maybe if I hadn’t pulled back so hard… maybe he wouldn’t have…”

He trails off, the implication unspoken but clear.

Maybe if I was still partying with him, this wouldn’t have happened.

More guilt.

Oh, Leo.

My heart aches for him. The reckless playboy, the ruthless businessman… he’s also just a guy grappling with a fucked-up past and a future he never planned for, trying not to destroy everything, including himself, in the process.

“Okay,” I say softly. “Okay. Let me handle the PR. You… be here for Luca.”

Be the friend he needs, even if he was a shitty one to you.

He gives me a curt nod, his gaze becoming distant again, already lost in whatever internal battle he’s fighting.

I find an unoccupied, blessedly sterile waiting room chair across from him, sinking into it. Jonas and Terrence sit as well, mirroring Charlie and Darius.

I pull out my laptop.

Time to do what I do best.

For the next couple of hours, the waiting room becomes my temporary command center. I draft statements, field calls routed from Michelle, map out media outreach, all while acutely aware of Leo across from me. He doesn’t pace anymore. He just sits there, staring blankly ahead, occasionally running a hand through his hair or checking his phone.

We don’t talk much. The silence is thick, but it’s a shared silence this time.

Later that night, when I return alone to the penthouse, using my newly supplied access card, Thomas meets me at the elevator, his usual unflappable demeanor firmly in place.

“Mia was an angel, Ms. Taylor,” he reports softly. “Slept soundly afterher bottle.”

“Thank you, Thomas. For everything. You can head down now, I’ve got it from here.”

He gives a slight bow and disappears inside the elevator.

I walk down the hall to the nursery. The door is slightly ajar. Pushing it open quietly, I see Mia sleeping peacefully in her crib, one tiny fist curled near her cheek, bathed in the soft glow of the llama-shaped nightlight.

I go to her, leaning over the railing just to watch her breathe for a moment.

Then I scoop her up carefully, holding her warm, solid weight against my chest, burying my face in her soft curls. She smells like lavender.

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