Page 3 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

Chapter Two

“Slow down, big girl,” Madeline said with a laugh. She had to practically run to keep up with Becka, her niece. Her chubby legs looked hilarious as she attempted to run. At almost two, Becka was faster than she looked, even if she hadn’t learned to fully bend her knees yet when running. The effect was a hilarious jolting gait. Strangers often commented on it when she took her out in public, like the zoo today.

“Your daughter is simply precious,” another mother said as Madi passed by. The woman had older children who were fighting over a tablet, ignoring the baby elephants in front of them completely.

Madi’s heart squeezed the way it always did when someone assumed Becka was hers. If only. “Thank you,” she said. “I better go catch her.”

Chasing Becka was the best excuse to leave the conversation before the woman saw the tears already flowing from Madi’s eyes. Jogging after Becka, Madi wiped her cheeks. She reached Becka, who was now trying to scale the fence by the elephant enclosure. Not for the first time, Madi had the thought that people designing parks and zoos should borrow a toddler like Becka to show them all the weaknesses in their safety. There were two fences separating them from the elephants, but Becka was almost over the first.

Madi picked her up, ignoring Becka’s protests. “Do you see the elephant? Point to the elephant.” Distractions still worked. For now, though she knew that full-blown tantrums were coming. And Calista wouldn’t be here to see them.

Cue the tears. Again.

Since her sister’s death six weeks before, Madi had settled into her new reality a little too easily. Being a pessimist, she had no illusions that it would last. At least not until she had full custody of Becka. Until it was official, she feared that Becka’s father, whoever he was, would show up, demanding the daughter he had never met. Parental rights typically won out in court, despite the fact that Becka had spent almost every day of her life with Madi.

That’s how it played out in her head when her mind was spinning out worst-case scenarios, as it tended to do. Calista had once assured her that Becka’s father, whoever he was, would not want a child. Madi always wondered how her sister could know if she didn’t know the father. Calista, a party girl and Madi’s polar opposite, had insisted that she didn’t know who the father was. It was only in the last few months that she started mentioning him in more certain terms.

After she died, Calista’s lawyer and best friend Bret had told Madi that he had finally located the father. He had contacted him before Calista died and they had been waiting to hear back from him about paying child support. Now that Calista was gone, Madi worried that this would turn from child support into a custody battle. She wouldn’t feel peaceful about it until they had this settled.

“Efant,” Becka said, pointing a chubby finger. Everything about her was still soft and round, though now that she was running, not just walking, she was beginning to lengthen and shift into a little girl, not just a toddler.

Madi set Becka down again and adjusted the diaper bag. They were off. Now toward the enclosure with the okapis, near some of the big cats. After another hour of chasing Becka and keeping her from scaling the fences, they set off for the car. Noon meant nap-time, which today would be in the car while Madi fought traffic on the way back to her rental house on the edge of the Heights. The one she might lose if she couldn’t come up with the rent soon.

“Milk! Milk!” From the car seat, Becka kicked her feet and fists, waiting for Madi to hand her a sippy cup with milk she had kept in a small cooler. “Tank you.”

“Welcome, Beck-Beck.”

They had barely made it out of the museum district when Madi saw that Becka was asleep, chubby cheek resting on the side of the car seat. It was still backwards-facing, a big pain, but in accordance with the latest suggested guidelines, things that Madi took very seriously.

Pessimist was too mild a term for Madi. Her mother had often called her a worst-case-scenario person. It wasn’t the same as being a worrywart, which Calista had accused her of being regularly. She didn’t worry, per se. It was more like she imagined terrible scenarios constantly, in a level-headed, non-emotional way. Like imagining that Becka fell twenty feet into the spectacled bear exhibit, only to survive and be eaten by a bear. Or that they would get T-boned at an intersection only to have the car seat fail. Worst-case scenarios helped calm her and make her feel prepared for whatever came her way.

Which brought her mind back to the custody issue. Madi had been Becka’s full-time nanny since she was an infant. Calista wasn’t, in her own words, cut out for motherhood, and went back to work as a model insanely quickly after her birth. Even a month post-partum, Madi looked more like she had given birth than Calista did. Not that she was overweight, but next to her tall, willowy sister, Madi felt thick and heavy. Not unlike Becka. Except it was cute on Becka. And if her last few years of dating were anything to go by, it was much less cute on a thirty-one-year-old woman.

When Madi turned onto her street, she recognized Bret’s BMW in front of the weed-choked lawn. Her cheeks heated at the sight of Bret in his suit, leaning against the side of the silver car on his phone. He always looked so put-together, with his slicked-back dark hair and his impeccable dress. Quite the contrast to her house and yard.

The craftsman-style bungalow she rented had once been adorable. But three years in with little maintenance from Madi and even less from her landlord, Ms. Covell, a cranky woman in her seventies, and the house was starting to look a little like it was caving in on itself.

Bret lifted a hand in greeting as Madi got out of the car. She put a finger to her lips and pointed to the backseat. Hopefully Becka would transfer to her crib and finish out her nap. It was often the only break that Madi got each day. Bret took her keys from her hand and unlocked the front door, scooting out of the way so that she could pass by on her way to the nursery.

Transferring a sleeping Becka to her crib was a skill Madi was fluent in, but she still held her breath every time. Thankfully, Bret understood the need to stay quiet. Or maybe he had honed his sneaky skills the same way Calista had—through years of sneaking out. It wouldn’t surprise Madi. Bret had been Calista’s best friend for years. Madi had often thought her sister might have something romantic with Bret, but Calista always laughed and said he was just her friend. And lawyer, which is actually how they met. It was probably also against some kind of code for a lawyer to date a client.

“Hey,” Madi whispered as she met Bret in the sitting room to the back of the kitchen. She loved that the small home wasn’t open concept like every other house in the world these days, but a series of connected rooms: living room in front, dining, kitchen, and then what she thought of as the den in back. That room was the most lived in, with a soft couch and toys strewn about the floor below the TV. The place felt cozy. It felt like home.

“Do we need to whisper?” Bret whispered.

Madi laughed, then spoke in a regular tone of voice. “No, sorry. Becka has a noisemaker in there. It should be fine now that I transferred her. That’s the hard part. Can I get you a drink?”

“Any sparkling water?”

She smiled. “I actually bought some for you last time I was at the store.”

Bret put a hand to his heart and smiled. Madi was sure the look would have won some hearts, but she always had a hesitation when it came to Bret. She couldn’t say quite why. He had certainly been a huge help after Calista died. With a lawyer for a best friend, Madi would have thought that her sister would at least have had a will or some provisions for Becka just in case. But, of course, her sister never did the responsible thing. Bret was left helping Madi pick up the pieces that Calista left behind. Which felt, oddly, just like it did when Calista was alive.

A flash of guilt licked through Madi, causing her to suck in her breath. She shouldn’t think harshly about her sister. She was gone. It was still difficult to believe. Calista, whatever else her faults, had been vibrant and full of life. That something as mundane as a car accident could have killed her instantly seemed unfair.

Madi sniffled and paused to collect her thoughts, leaning against the counter. When she felt calm again, she poured Bret’s sparkling soda into a glass, just the way he liked it. She got herself a glass of water from the tap and joined him on the other side of the couch. “Any news?”

This is the way she had been greeting him almost every day for the last month since Calista died. Bret took a sip of his sparkling water, then set it down on the coffee table before answering.

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