Page 96 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Oh, shit.

Press.

How the hell did they find me?

Ah, paparazzi. Gotta hand it to them. The best ones are part private detective and part vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in.

He starts walking towards me purposefully.

“Sabrina Taylor?” he calls out, holding up his phone. Probably already recording. “Tim Underwood, Daily Beat. Just wanted to ask about the photos with Leo Maxwell? Is that his daughter? Are you the secret woman he’s been hiding?”

Panic floods my system. It’s bad enough that they know about his love child. But they’ve figured out the mother’s identity, too?

Myidentity?

My instinct is pure flight.

All my PR training goes out the window.

“No comment,” I snap, spinning the stroller around violently.

Mia lets out a startled cry. I practically sprint back towards my building entrance, fumbling frantically for my keys, my hands shaking.

“Come on, Sabrina! Just give us a quote!” Underwood calls after me, jogging to keep pace. “Is Maxwell a good dad? Are you two serious?”

Fuck him. Fuck all of them.

I finally get the key in the lock, shove the door open, wheel the stroller inside, and slam the door shut behind me.

When I’m safely inside my apartment, Mia starts crying properly, scared by the sudden rush and my obvious panic.

Safe. For now. But he knows where I live. He’ll be back. Others will come. My apartment, my sanctuary, is compromised.

My first instinct is to call the police, but what would they do? He didn’t technically threaten me. My second instinct, the one that overrides everything else? Call Leo.

My fingers tremble as I dial his number.

He answers on the secondring. “Sabrina.”

“Hey.” My voice is shaky, breathless. “They found me. A reporter. Outside my apartment. Ambushed me, asking about you, about Mia...”

The shift in his voice is instantaneous. The impatience vanishes, replaced by cold, hard authority. “Are you okay? Are you inside now? Is Mia okay?”

“Yes, yes, we’re inside. We’re fine. Just shaken up. He was waiting for me, Leo. He knew my name.”

“Stay put,” he commands. “Lock the door. Don’t answer it for anyone. Charlie and Darius are ten minutes away. They’ll secure the building entrance, then come up.”

“Your security?” Relief washes over me, so potent it makes my knees weak. “Are you sure?”

“Don’t argue, Sabrina,” he cuts me off. “This isn’t a request. They’re on their way. They’ll bring you and Mia back to the penthouse.”

“Back there?” The thought sends another wave of panic, mixed with something else… relief? “Leo, I don’t know... they know whereyoulive, too. How is that safer?”

“Because my building has layers of security your walk-up doesn’t even dream of,” he says firmly, leaving no room for debate. “Biometric access, private elevators, Charlie’s team monitoring everything 24/7, controlled entry points they can lock down. Your apartment building? They can buzz every damn tenant until someone lets them in, camp outside your door, follow you the second you step outside. Here? They won’t even get past the lobby without being flagged and rerouted. It’s not just about knowing the location; it’s about controlling access. You need real protection right now.Sheneeds real protection.” He pauses, his voice softening almost imperceptibly, losing the sharp edge of command. “Please, Sabrina.This is beyond some asshole reporter on the sidewalk now. Let me handle the security aspect. Let me keep you safe. Both of you. Here. Where I know I can.”

His words… they hit differently. Not threats. Not demands fueled by anger. Just… protection. Offered without hesitation, without calculation. Prioritizingus, our safety, over whatever business implications this creates.

My carefully constructed independence, my fierce determination tonotrely on him, crumbles in the face of that simple, direct offer. Because he’s right. My apartment isn’t safe. And Mia… Mia needs to be protected. From the photographers, from the speculation, from the toxic fallout of her father’s fame.

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