Page 126 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
MARGOT
Ibreeze into my room and shut the door behind me harder than I mean to. My heels click across the floor, but I don’t take them off. I don’t take anything off—not the earrings, not the dinner dress, nothing.
I just sit. Right in front of the computer like my body’s moving on instinct.
Because now I have his full name.
Cal Hale. Calvin Hale.
He’s not Reid. Never was. That was a lie. Everything was a lie.
My fingers fly across the keyboard. And just like that—like magic, or betrayal, or both—his whole life opens up in front of me. Articles. Interviews. Net worth estimates. Business deals. Photos. Award ceremonies. TheForbescover feature. That TechBit logo flashing again and again.
My goodness.
I scroll and scroll, and with every paragraph I read, my heart drops further through the floor. He’s not just someone with atech background. He’s not just some guy who’s “been through a lot” and “wanted something simple.”
He’s someone else entirely. Someone famous. Wealthy. Influential.
And I know nothing about him.
Nothing true, at least.
I close the laptop and press the heels of my hands to my eyes, but the tears come anyway. Hot and angry and endless. My shoulders shake, and I hate that it still hurts this much. I thought I was smarter than this. Thought I could protect myself. But I let him in. I liked him. I trusted?—
No.
I can’t even finish the thought.
I don’t sleep. Not really. I lay there, staring at the ceiling while the world outside my window spins and spins. And even though I’m exhausted, there’s only one thing I know for sure.
I will never let myself feel this way again.
The morning slips in without my permission.
Sunlight pours through the curtains like it always does, warm and golden, but I don’t move. For the first time since I came back to Everfield, I don’t get up early to help with breakfast or set the tables or check the morning emails. I just lie there—still in that same wrinkled dress, my head pounding from crying and not sleeping.
A soft knock comes at the door, followed by it creaking open.
“Margot?” It’s Thea’s voice, small and hesitant.
I turn my head slowly.
She steps in, biting her lip, her arms folded tightly across her chest. “I’m sorry,” she says, walking closer. “About last night. I didn’t know it was a secret. I thought… I don’t know. I just thought you knew.”
I sit up a little, brushing hair out of my face. “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not.”
I shake my head, too tired to argue. “You didn’t lie to me, Thea. He did.”
She looks at me for a long second, then lowers herself to the foot of the bed like she used to do when we were kids and I’d get sick.
“I just want you to be okay.”
I let out a breath and whisper, “Me too.”
Neither of us says anything for a while. And honestly? The silence feels better than words.
