Page 129 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
I’m pacing.
Back and forth in my room like that’ll somehow generate answers. Like walking holes into this floorboard will tell me how to fix things with Margot. Since she walked out on our conversation earlier, it feels like I’ve been slowly dying. I don’t know what to do, how to reach her, all I know is that this is a problem I don’t know how to solve.
The silence is driving me out of my mind.
I’m in the middle of drafting an apology in my head—for the sixth time—when there’s a loud, frantic knock at the door.
I frown. Then rush to open it.
The second I see Margot, I smile—relieved, desperate, ready to beg if I have to.
But she doesn’t say a word. She shoves her phone hard into my chest.
I barely catch it before it slips from my hands.
And when I look down, I understand.
Photos. Everywhere. Me and Margot. At dinner. Smiling. Kissing. Headlines screamingsecret billionaire romance, mystery innkeeper, Calvin Hale spotted with small-town sweetheart.
I already knew this was coming.
But this? This is worse than I imagined.
My blood runs hot.
Not because we were seen.
But because she’s in the crosshairs now. Her life. Her privacy. Her peace.
I grab her hand and pull her inside, shutting the door behind us.
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice low, firm. “This wasn’t my intention. None of it.”
She’s breathing hard, her eyes full of fire and betrayal. “I’ll fix this,” I promise. “I swear, Margot—I’ll fix it.”
“How?” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just bitterness. “You want to throw money at it?”
“Margot, that’s not fair.”
Her eyes flash. “Do you know what’s not fair? You coming down here to deceive me into falling for you. What was it? You got tired of your big-city girls and decided to try small-town ones for sport? See how easily we get swept off our feet by city charms?”
“Margot, no! Stop!”
“I won’t stop until you’re gone!” Her voice cracks, but she doesn’t let it slow her down. “I don’t want you here anymore.”
My chest tightens. She means it.
I take a shaky breath. “I thought…” My voice lowers. “I thought you liked me. I thought you’d be willing to work through this with me.”
“I’m not,” she says, quietly now, almost too calmly. “I’m unwilling, Cal. I don’t want to work through anything. I’ll feel better if you leave.”
It hits like a punch to the gut.
But I nod, jaw clenched.
If leaving is what will bring her peace, I’ll give it to her. Even if it shatters me.
“Okay,” I say quietly.
