Page 21 of Hello Billionaire

“What the hell do you want, Caleb?” I demanded, pacing several feet away from Cliff, who looked straight ahead, acting like he couldn’t hear every word.

“I’ve missed some calls from you,” my ex said.

Bastard. “Stop acting like you don’t know what you did. It was Levi’sfirsthigh school game. He needed you there.”

“Did he get off the bench?”

I could have throttled him. My heels pounded on the asphalt as I paced angrily. “That’s not the point, and you know it,” I hissed, my head throbbing. “Your son wanted you there, and you couldn’t deign to drive three hours and watch him play on a Saturday afternoon.”

“You’rethe one who decided to drag our children away from Austin for some godforsaken reason.”

“’Godforsaken reason?’ You knowexactlywhy I moved here. And that doesn’t mean you stop showing up for your kids. You know Andrew told me he heard Levi crying in bed the night of his game?” I’d had a stomachache ever since. “And why the hell were you ignoring my calls all weekend? There could have been something wrong with one of the kids and you never would have known.”

“Maybe I didn’t feel like having my ex-wife grind my balls for old time’s sake.”

“God, you’re such a loser.” I hung up, vindicated that I had gotten away from him and stopped dealing with his utter bullshit. The cheating had only been the final straw.

He hadn’t been like this in college. Back when we started dating, Caleb had been romantic. Surprising me with flowers (even if he had picked them from the university flower beds). Sneaking me down deserted bookshelves in the library to steal kisses during study breaks. And even when Levi was young, he’d been a devoted father, taking his turns with the late-night wakeups and getting his license to sell insurance so he could make more money to support us.

But with time and more children, things changed. I stopped wearing my cute lingerie to bed, opting for comfy T-shirts and baggy shorts. He’d left more and more of the housework and childcare to me, since he was the one providing financially. Eventually, we were two people living adjacently in the same home, not two people in love.

Even so, I’d never wanted my children to grow up splitting weekends between their parents. I hadn’t been happy with Caleb, per se, but not upset enough to leave. Not until—

“Miss,” Cliff said, reminding me he was there. “Are you okay?”

I looked up at the man, embarrassment heating my cheeks. I looked awful, and underneath his thick eyebrows and strawberry-blond mustache, he seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Sorry about that call, by the way.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse. Especially when I used to work concerts.” He shuddered, making me smile a little bit.

“You’ll have to tell me about that sometime. But I should probably get inside. I wanted to show up before Mr. Griffen for a change.”

Cliff nodded and held the door open for me. “Have a good day, Miss Farrah.”

I smiled, relieved to hear my first name instead of my ex-husband’s last. “You too, Cliff.”

I walked into the building, thankfully entering an empty conference room. My eyes traveled over the beanbag chairs in the corner, the art easel displaying the painting Andrew and Cora made with the art instructor Mr. Griffen hired.

They had used the tips of their fingers to make a dotted winter forest. My favorite part was the pink owl Cora added in the corner. Gage had gushed over the paintings. He barely knew my kids, yet he’d shown them more care than their own father.

“They really are talented,” Gage said behind me, making me jump.

“Oh my gosh.” I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to calm my erratically beating heart. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

For the first time, Gage’s stoic expression changed. First shock, and then anger flashed in his eyes, so strong it threatened to incinerate anything in its path.

My heart sped as he crossed the room, taking my face carefully in his hand and turning my chin to see my right cheek. His touch felt like fire on my skin. “Who did this to you?” He scanned the fist-sized bruise, all shades of blue, purple, and even green and yellow. “Was it your ex? Cliff said you had an argument on the phone.” His jaw flexed powerfully, and he released my face. “If he so much as laid a finger on you, I swear, I’ll—”

I pressed a hand to Gage’s chest, broad and muscled under his suit. His pecs heaved with the force of his breaths, his anger. Where was this coming from?

“I’m okay,” I said gently. “I got hit by a foul ball at my son’s baseball game. Like winning the lottery, but less fun. The ER doctor said I avoided a concussion. I’m just going to look ugly for a few weeks while it heals.”

His voice was almost a whisper as he said, “Ugly? You? Those two words don’t belong in the same sentence.”

My heart stuttered, skipped beats, not understanding this world we’d entered into. Had he said I wasn’t ugly? That meant... “Thank...you, Mr. Griffen.”

He stepped away, making my hand fall from his chest. “My apologies, Farrah. I crossed a line touching you like that.” He shook his head, like he was clearing a haze too. “I’m sorry you were injured, but I’m glad you’re okay.”

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