Page 32 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“No,” I say firmly, crossing my arms protectively over my belly. The lie solidifies, becoming a shield. “He doesn’t know. And he’s not going to. It’s better this way. This baby doesn’t need a father who isn’t fully committed, who might just… disappear.”

Like Dad. Like Leo.

“So you’ve made the choice for him,” mom replies. “Made him disappear. Without even telling him. Without eventryingto make it work.”

She’s right, I suppose. But she doesn’t understand who Leo is. That he’s no father.

So I don’t answer. I just bow my head again.

My mother stares at me, her face etched with worry and a deep, profound sadness. I see more arguments forming on her lips... the pleas for practicality, the warnings about the difficulties ahead. But she must see the stubborn resolve in my eyes, the defensive walls slamming down.

She sighs again, a long, weary sound. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Sabrina. I really, truly hope you do. Because this… this is going to change everything.”

She doesn’t hug me. Doesn’t offer comfort. The disapproval hangs between us, a chasm opened by my secret and her disappointment. She stays for another half hour, but it seems like an eternity. Our conversation is stilted and awkward, circling the elephant in the room, or rather, the baby in the room. She asks practical questions about doctors and finances, her administrator brain kicking in, but the warmth is gone, replaced by a worried reserve.

When she finally leaves, pulling her suitcase behind her with a promise to call later, the apartment feels suffocatingly silent again. I sink back onto the couch, tears finally spilling over, hot and angry.

That she brought her suitcase here meant she’d originally planned to stay at least overnight. But she changed her mind, obviously, because of me.

Because of my baby.

God, her disapproval hurts more than I expected. Her judgment, her fear that I’m repeating her past… it reinforces every doubt I have.

But it also strengthens my resolve.

She doesn’t understand. No one does. They don’t know Leo. They don’t know that he wouldn’t remember, wouldn’t care. Keeping him away isn’t just about protecting myself from heartbreak. No, it’s about protecting this baby from the potential devastation of an unreliable, uninterested father. I’d rather raise the baby alone than with a man like that in my child’s life.

I place a hand on my belly, feeling a distinct flutter, a tiny kick against my palm.

It’s okay, little one.

It’s just you and me.

I’ll keep you safe.

I promise.

And somehow, despite the fear, the guilt, and the overwhelming uncertainty, I know I will.

I have to.

10

Leo

The roar of the wind fills me hearing. Hurtling towards the earth at terminal velocity, the jagged cliffs of the quarry blurring past just feet away...thisis clarity.

This is control.

Everything else... the deals, the money, the women, the parties, the bullshit noise in my head, it all just evaporates up here.

There’s only the line, the air currents, the razor-thin margin between life and death.

“Coming in hot!” Luca’s voice crackles in my helmet comms, distorted by the wind shear. He’s tucked in tight on my right wing, a mirror image in his own custom suit.

Fucking showboat.

We’re threading the needle through the ‘Viper’s Tooth,’ a nasty little granite notch at the bottom of a decommissioned quarry upstate. An hour’s chopper ride from Manhattan, our own private playground for pushing the limits before the Chamonix Red Bull competition in two months.

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