Page 68 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

“Everything’s completely fine, Mom. I’m actually… out right now. At a client’s place for a follow-up meeting.”

A technically true, strategically vague statement. PR 101.

“A client’s place? On a Friday afternoon? With Mia?” Suspicion instantly sharpens her tone. She hates when my work bleeds into weekends or requires bringing Mia along. “Sabrina, is this that new difficult client you mentioned? The one needing the reputation repair? Are you sure that’s appropriate? Bringing the baby… you couldn’t find a sitter?”

“Mom, it’s fine. He’s… accommodating.”Understatement.“And it was unavoidable today. The sitter was busy.”

God she’s going to see right through the lie, I know she is.

And here I was just thinking,enough with the secrets.

There’s a pause. Then, her voice takes on that cautious, probing tone I know means she senses something isn’t adding up. “Sabrina… this client… it wouldn’t happen to be…him, would it? The father? Did he come back from Australia?”

My breath catches. My gaze flicks involuntarily back towards Leo. He’s looking down at Mia, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as she makes another gurgling sound. He looks utterly engrossed.

How do I answer this?

The Australian lie feels suddenly thin as Saran wrap.

Leo finally glances up, catching my eye, his expression questioning.

Shit. What do I say? Maintain the lie? Confess?

PR crisis level: DEFCON 1.

Leo raises an eyebrow slightly, tilting his head towards the phone.

“It’s your mother?” he murmurs, his voice low.

My cheeks flaming, I hit mute on the phone. This is mortifying.

“Yes,” I say frantically. “She thinks you’re... I told her you... I told her the father moved to Australia. She’s asking if you’re back.”

His expression doesn’t change much, but something flickers in those green eyes. Understanding? Calculation?

He shrugs. “Tell her the truth.” His voice is quiet but firm.

I stare at him.

Tell her?

Just like that?

Aftermonthsof maintaining the fiction? After letting her believe...?

“But... the lie? Australia? And I thought... PR...”

“She’s your mother, Sabrina,” Leo repeats, his gaze steady now, holding mine. He adjusts Mia slightly in his arms. “She deserves the truth. You can tell her everything. Youshould.”

Enough with the secrets.

My brain stalls. He… trusts me to tell my mother? He trustsmy motherwith this information? The man whose partner wanted me to sign an NDA?

It’s… unexpectedly decent, and throws my carefully constructed image of him as the ruthless, untrustworthy playboy completely out the window.

Maybe meeting and holding Mia is… changing him already?

Don’t be ridiculous, Sabrina. It’s been ten minutes.

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