Page 61 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
Please. I hope she’s not coming over to talk about Cal.
She approaches quietly, and I hold my breath as she stops a few feet away from me. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just rests her hand gently on my shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Margot.”
That stops me. My hands still in the water.
“I know it’s not been easy, stepping into all this. But you’ve done it with grace. And I see you.” Her voice softens. “We all do.”
I blink hard. Too hard. My eyes immediately water, and I try to hold back a sudden bout of tears.
“Ugh. Stupid soap suds.” I scrub at my eyes with my wrist. “You’d think I’ve washed enough dishes in my life to be immune by now.”
“Of course.” She smiles and walks away as slowly as she came in.
By the time I’m leaving the house, Cal and Dad are still in the backyard—shoulders bent over something I can’t see, tools clinking, both of them laughing like old friends. It’s strange andsweet how natural it feels. I call out a goodbye. Neither of them hears me at first, so I just wave and head out.
When I get back to the inn, I find Ana at the front desk flipping through the reservation ledger. “Hey,” I say.
She glances up. “You’re back. How was breakfast?”
“Predictably chaotic.”
She smiles. “Sounds like home.”
I nod and keep walking, pushing through the office door and settling at my desk. I open my laptop, fingers hovering above the keyboard. There’s work to do and bills to pay.
I click open my email and start skimming through the clutter—newsletters, booking confirmations, a florist receipt I forgot to delete.
Then I see it.
A credit alert. Time-stamped last night. I frown and click it open, leaning forward as I read.
It’s not from a guest. Not from a vendor. No familiar name attached.
Just a note:Anonymous contribution to the beautiful job you’re doing with the inn. Everfield is lucky to have you.
I gasp.
It’s not a small sum either.
I stare at the screen, heart thudding. My fingers hover over the keyboard, like if I move too fast, the whole thing will vanish. A part of me wants to cry—but not out of panic this time.
Out of… relief. Out of the strange warmth curling through my chest.
I blink the tears away, forcing myself to breathe. Who in town could even afford this kind of sum?
No name. No hint. Just… generosity. Quiet, deliberate, and kind.
I press a hand to my chest. My throat tightens.
Maybe it doesn’t matter who sent it. Maybe what matters is that someone sees. That someone appreciates how hard I’m trying—how much I’m giving to keep this place alive. Not just for me. For Aunt Edie. For my family. For Everfield.
The screen blurs.
And this time, I can’t stop the tears.
CAL
