Page 27 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

But what if...

No.

I shake my head sharply and grab a towel to dry my face. As I walk back into the bedroom, I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s later than I’d thought, and the day is already slipping away from me.

I grab some clothes—a simple blouse and jeans—from the small suitcase I’d brought over yesterday. As I dress, I try to focus on anything but Cole. But the memory of him, of his eyes darkened with something I can’t quite name, keeps sneaking back in.

Pulling my hair into a loose ponytail, I glance at the room again. The sunlight streaming through the window casts soft, golden patterns across the floor, and for a brief moment, it feels almost inviting. Almost.

But I know it’ll take more than sunlight and luxury to make this place feel like home.

I’m dreading heading downstairs, afraid of running into Cole. I know I’ll have to face him eventually, but I can’t handle it this morning.

Taking a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and head toward the door. No matter what happened last night,I have a job to do. And for Robbie’s sake, I can’t let anything—or anyone—get in the way of that.

Please don’t be in the kitchen. Please don’t be in the kitchen. I repeat it like a mantra in my mind as I walk through the spacious hallways.

When I reach the main floor, the house is quiet. Too quiet.

The kitchen is empty, save for Evelyn, who’s bustling around with her usual efficiency. Relief washes over me like a cool breeze. No sign of Cole.

“Morning,” Evelyn says briskly, not even looking up as she sets a plate of eggs and toast on the island.

“Morning,” I reply, trying to sound normal.

“Coffee’s fresh,” she adds, gesturing toward the pot.

“Thanks,” I say, pouring myself a cup and taking a seat at the table.

It’s not long before Robbie comes padding into the kitchen, Rexy clutched tightly in one hand. His dinosaur pajamas are wrinkled, and his hair sticks up in messy tufts.

“Good morning,” I say, managing a smile despite my exhaustion.

“Morning,” he mumbles, climbing into his usual seat at the table.

Evelyn places a plate of pancakes in front of him, shaped like dinosaurs, of course. Robbie’s face lights up, and for a moment, my own worries fade.

“Are those T-Rex pancakes?” I ask, leaning closer.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “Evelyn’s the best.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Evelyn says dryly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her face as she moves to clean up the counter.

I watch as Robbie digs into his breakfast, drenching the pancakes with syrup. He looks happy, content, and I’m reminded of why I’m here in the first place.

It’s not about me. It’s about him.

As Robbie happily devours his syrup-drenched T-Rex pancakes, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes from the hallway. Moments later, Ellis strides into the kitchen, his posture straight and composed as always.

He’s dressed impeccably, even on a Sunday morning, in a crisp button-down and dark slacks. His sharp gray eyes flick between me and Robbie before settling on the little boy.

“Good morning, Master Robbie,” Ellis says, his tone polite but warm. “Did you sleep well?”

Robbie nods, his mouth full of pancake. “Yeah.”

Ellis smiles faintly, then glances my way. “Miss Fox,” he greets with a slight bow of his head. “I hope you’re settling incomfortably.”

“As comfortably as anyone can in a place this fancy,” I reply, offering him a small smile.

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