Page 169 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

I brace myself for the pushback, the argument. But it doesn’t come.

“Right. Space.” He looks away, studying something on his desk. Then, his gaze flicks back to me. It looks almost... vulnerable, now. “Okay.What about… can I schedule some time with Mia, then? Maybe tomorrow?”

My breath catches. Mia. The bargaining chip. The one thing he knows I can’t refuse indefinitely. But seeing him, interacting with him… it’s too soon.

Too raw.

The break needs tobea break.

“Leo, I… I don’t think we’re ready for that yet,” I say, hating the way my voice wavers slightly. “It’s all still too… new. Too complicated. She needs the comfort of a routine right now.”

And frankly, so do I.

He looks genuinely hurt this time. The guarded mask doesn’t quite cover the flash of pain in his eyes. “Not even… not even for an hour? At your place?”

“Not yet, Leo,” I repeat, forcing firmness into my tone.

Hold the line, Sabrina. Hold!

He stares at me for a long moment, the silence stretching. Then, his expression shifts again, becoming pleading. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, and it hits me right in the gut.

“Okay. Okay, I get it.” He hesitates. “Can I… can I at least see her now? Just… for a second? On the camera?”

Oh, god.

This feels like kicking a puppy. A very large, very rich, very complicated puppy who might also be secretly training to jump off the Eiffel Tower.

But the raw vulnerability in his request… how can I say no?

Wordlessly, I pick up my laptop and walk quietly towards the nursery.

Mia is stirring, making soft little cooing noises asshe starts to wake up from her nap. I push the door open gently and angle the camera towards the crib.

Mia blinks, her startlingly green eyes focusing on the screen.

Leo’s breath hitches audibly through the speakers. I see his face on the small inset screen, his expression completely unguarded now. A look of such raw, aching longing washes over his features that it steals my breath.

He looks… like he’s about to cry.

“Hey, Killer,” he whispers, his voice cracking. He reaches out a hand towards the screen, as if he could actually touch her. “Hey, baby girl.”

Mia lets out a happy gurgle, kicking her little legs.

Leo manages a shaky smile, but his eyes are glistening. He clears his throat.

“Okay. Okay, thanks, Sabrina.” His voice cracks, and he looks away from Mia, back toward the camera, but his gaze is unfocused. He wipes his cheek with a finger. “Gotta go. Call… call me about the statement later.”

And before I can respond, before I can process the wave of conflicting emotions crashing through me, he hangs up.

The screen goes dark.

I stand there in the quiet nursery, Mia babbling softly in her crib, the silence of the apartment pressing in on me.

My own eyes are stinging.

Seeing him like that, so openly vulnerable, so clearly devastated by the separation, even a temporary one… it shakes my resolve.

Did I do the right thing? Walking away? Insisting on this space?

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