Page 108 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

“I’ll get back to work,” I say eventually, straightening up in my chair. “There’s still a lot to do.”

He stands up with a stretch, walking toward the door.

“I’ll let you work. But if you need a break, you know where to find me.”

I laugh, watching him leave.

How did I get so lucky?

The faint creak of the door pulls me from my thoughts sometime later. I look up to see Maggie standing there, holding a steaming mug of tea.

She’s got that warm, knowing smile on her face, and her eyes crinkle at the edges.

“Thought you might need a break,” Maggie says softly, stepping into the room. “I made your favorite.”

I smile gratefully as she sets the cup down on the corner of my desk. The familiar scent of chamomile and honey fills the room, and I can already feel the tension in my shoulders starting to ease.

“Thanks, Maggie. You’re a lifesaver.”

She sits down in the chair across from me, her movements deliberate, as if she’s taking her time to settle in. I take a sip of the tea, and we sit in silence for a few moments, just enjoying the quiet.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’re doing here,” she says. “It’s amazing work. Helping people like this—it’s not something everyone can do. I admire you for it.”

“I’m just doing what needs to be done. There’s so much to do, though. I feel like I’m barely keeping up.”

She leans back in her chair, her hands folded in her lap.

“I understand that feeling.

When I was starting out... well, I wasn’t doing anything like this, but I had my own struggles.

Raising a daughter, dealing with my first husband...”

She trails off for a moment, her eyes distant, as if she’s recalling something painful.

I set the mug down on the desk, fully focused on her now. “Maggie, you don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

She waves a hand dismissively, as if brushing off the concern.

“No, it’s alright.

It’s just that when you said you wanted to help women and children, it reminded me of my own experience.

My first husband... he wasn’t the man I thought he was.

He was abusive. In ways I didn’t even know were possible.”

I feel a lump form in my throat. There’s a burden in Maggie’s eyes, a sadness that she doesn’t have to explain. I know she’s been through so much, and it takes a lot for her to open up.

“We ran,” she continues.

“My daughter and I left in the middle of the night—grabbed what we could, and went.

I didn’t know where we were going, but we couldn’t stay.

He had control over everything—our money, where we lived, who we spoke to.

He isolated us.”

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