Page 54 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Iwasa fucking asshole to her. Driven by rage and that bruised ego from Vegas, from the blackout, from her disappearing act that morning. And now… this. The consequences hitting me square in the face.

“So what do I do, then?” I ask, my voice tight. “I just… let her call the shots? Let her keep controlling the narrative?”

“No. You talk to her. Like a human being. Figure out a way forward that doesn’t involve mutually assured destruction. You want access? Youwant to be involved? Then show her you can be someone Mianeedsin her life, not just another fucking disaster zone.” He sighs. “Look, I know it’s not easy. Tatiana and I… we started in chaos. The Vegas insanity, remember? An accidental marriage we were supposed to annul.”

“Yeah, so why didn’t you annul?” The question surprises me. I never asked before. Never cared.

Dom is quiet for a moment. “Because somewhere in that mess… I realized she was the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Because I fell in love with her. Because building somethingrealwas better than a hollow billion dollar victory or sticking to the original, stupid plan.” He pauses again. “You think showing up with lawyers is going to make Sabrina trust you? Or want you anywhere near Mia?”

Trust.

The word hangs there. She doesn’t trust me. And why the fuck should she? My track record isn’t exactly stellar. Playboy. Risk-taker. Emotionally unavailable billionaire.

Hell, I barely trust myself.

“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my temple where a headache is starting to bloom.

“Yeah,fuck,” Dom agrees gently. “Call off the lawyers, Leo. For now. Talk to Sabrina first. Try to find common ground. For Mia’s sake. For your sake.”

Common ground. With the woman who kept her hidden from me for almost two years? What kind of person evendoesthat?

It feels impossible. But the image of those green eyes... Mia’s eyes...myeyes... staring out from the crib…

Dom’s right.

Starting this with a legal war is scorched earth. Nothing good can grow from there.

“Okay,” I say finally, the word tasting like surrender. Or maybe just exhaustion. “Okay, Dom. I’ll… I’ll try.”

“Good. Call me later. Anytime.” He hangs up.

I stand there for another minute, staring sightlessly at the skyline.

Common ground.

Right.

I limp back towards the conference room.

Peterson, Vale, and Victoria look up expectantly as I enter.

“Change of plans,” I announce curtly, not sitting down. “Hold off on filing anything. All actions are on pause until further notice. Send me the preliminary research on parental rights in New York, but no direct engagement yet. I’ll be in touch.”

They exchange surprised, slightly frustrated glances, but years of dealing with demanding clients mean they mask it well. They still get paid by the hour, so I’m sure they don’t really give that much of a flying fuck anyway.

“As you wish, Mr. Maxwell,” Peterson says smoothly.

I nod once and turn, heading for the elevators.

When I’m inside the silent steel box, the doors glide shut.

Alone. Just the hum of the elevator ascending to the 50th floor.

My floor.

My kingdom.

The doors open onto the quiet executive reception. I head left, toward my office, andstride past Michelle’s station. She looks up from her desk, a question in her eyes.

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