Page 50 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“So you made the choiceforme,” he spits, leaning heavily on the cane again, his knuckles white where he grips the handle. “You judged me based on some fucking Google searches and gossip columns? You didn’t think I deserved a say? A chance? You just decided I was my father... or yours... and wrote me off?”

“It wasn’t just Google!” I insist desperately. “It was Vegas! You don’t evenrememberVegas, do you? You were high, Leo! GHB, remember?The ‘gentleman’s version?’ You use recreational drugs like there’s no tomorrow, which for you, is probably half true. You don’t remember meeting me, you don’t remember taking me back to your suite, you don’t remember...”

I trail off, unable to sayit.

Yes, the sex was amazing, even though he was stoned out of his mind, but I refuse to acknowledge that now.

His face darkens further.

“I remember enough,” he lies, or maybe he convinces himself it’s true. “I remember you.” He gestures vaguely towards the nursery. “Maybe the details are hazy, fine. And the GHB shit... yeah okay, you’re right. Mostly.” He runs a hand through his already messy hair, a flicker of genuine frustration crossing his features. “But that doesn’t give you the right to erase me! To hide mychild!”

“She’smychild, too!” I counter, stepping forward, the protective instincts overriding fear. “The one I’ve been raising alone for eleven months!”

“Alone because youchoseto be alone!” he says, taking another menacing step forward. “You chose to keep this secret! Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, knowing about her might have changed things? Might have made me... different?”

“Different how?” I scoff, folding my arms protectively over my chest, though there’s nothing left to hide. “Trade the wingsuit for a minivan? Swap the super models for parent-teacher meetings? I doubt it.”

“You didn’t give me the fucking chance!” he repeats, slamming the head of his cane against the floor, the sharp crack making me jump and sendingMia into another round of distressed wails from the nursery.

The sound seems to penetrate Leo’s rage momentarily. He glances towards the nursery door, his expression flickering again, switching between confusion, then regret, and finally back to anger.

“You’re done,” he says abruptly, his voice turning cold and clipped. “Consider your engagement terminated. Maxwell & Briggs needs someone fucking honest running their communications. Clearly, that’s not you.”

And just like that he fires me. Without even giving me a chance.

Though I suppose I never gave him a chance either, did I?

Still, the words land like a physical blow. The desperately needed client, the financial lifeline… gone. Terminated by the secret he forced me to reveal.

Forced. No, not quite. I could have stopped him, when he was walking toward the door. Could have ran ahead, shut it. Could have donesomething.

But I just stood there.

And I’m not even sure why. Maybe it’s because a part of me wanted him to know the truth, to free myself of the burden.

Well I hope you’re happy, traitorous part of my brain. Really stuck the landing on that ‘burn your life down’ maneuver.

“And don’t think this is over,” he continues, his voice dangerously quiet now. “My lawyers will be in touch, Ms. Taylor. About my daughter. About custody. About everything.”

Lawyers.

Custody.

The words just hang therebetween us...

Oh, god.

This is my worst fear realized.

Mia is crying harder now, a heartbreaking sound that echoes my own internal devastation. I need to go to her. I need to soothe her. But I’m frozen, trapped in the wreckage of this confrontation.

Leo turns sharply, the movement jerky, his injured leg obviously protesting.

Good, I hope it hurts him. Just as his words hurt me.

He heads for the front door, each step punctuated by the click of the cane. He yanks the door open, pausing on the threshold.

He doesn’t look back at me. But his gaze flicks, almost involuntarily, towards the nursery door one last time. A fleeting, unreadable glance at the source of the crying.

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