Page 193 of My Big, Fat, Secret Billionaire Baby

Page Six.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. What now?

The headline hits me like a freight train. It’s a sledgehammer to the carefully constructed brand image we’ve been painstakingly building.

Maxwell’s Mayhem: Billionaire’s Bedroom Secrets EXPOSED! Trainer Spills on Coke-Fueled Romps and Office Affairs!

My hand trembling, I click the link. It’s Jen Takahashi. Of course it is. The scorned ex-fuckbuddy or whatever she was to him, back for another round.

And this time, she’s not just making vague threats.

She’s naming names.

Dates.

Locations.

Explicit, lurid details about Leo’s past. Lines of coke snorted off her breasts in his home gym. Secret trysts with other employees. Michelle Park, his PA,Victoria Kowalski, his Chief Legal Counsel. How he turned Maxwell & Briggs, now Maxwell Capital, into his personal fucking harem.

My stomach churns. I knew, on some level, that Leo’s past was… colorful. The tabloids had hinted at it. And I’d seen the jealousy in Michelle’s eyes when Jen was in the office that day. Plus, there were all those snide remarks Luca had made.

But seeing it laid out like this, in graphic, humiliating detail… it’s different. It’s viscerally real. It’s public… and disgusting.

This isn’t just a PR crisis anymore. This is a character assassination. And it’s aimed not just at Leo, but at everyone in his orbit. Including me.

Professionally? This is a goddamn nightmare. It torpedoes everything we’ve been working on. The ‘responsible father’ narrative? The ‘stable leader’ image? Up in flames. Personally? It makes me feel… sick. Humiliated.

“Sabrina?” Leo’s voice, still on the line, cuts through my shock. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I can barely speak. “Jen Takahashi,” I manage, my voice a choked whisper. “Page Six. It’s… it’s bad, Leo. Really bad.”

There’s a heavy silence on the other end. Then, a string of curses that would make a sailor blush. Followed by a weary sigh. “Fuck. Okay. We’ll… we’ll deal with it.”

Deal with it? How do youdealwith this? This isn’t just about spin anymore. This is about… trust. About character. About whether the man who just swore he was changing, who just retired from wingsuitingfor his daughter, is actually capable of being the man he claims to want to be.

Or if he’s just… a reckless, selfish addict who leaves a trail of broken hearts and shattered reputations in his wake.

“Leo,” I say, all pretense of professionalism gone, “I… I don’t know if I can do this anymore. This… this is too much. I can’t… I don’t think I can be your PR consultant anymore. Not after this.” The words tumble out, unplanned. But true.

The silence on the other end is deafening.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “Sabrina… please. You can’t...”

“I… I need to think, Leo,” I say, my own heart aching. “I just… can you let me sleep on it?”

I hang up before he can argue, before I can change my mind.

I stare at Mia, sleeping peacefully in her crib, oblivious to the fresh hell her father’s past has just unleashed. My fierce determination to protect her… feels so fragile right now. Because how do I protect her fromthis?

From a legacy of scandal and self-destruction?

My fingers, almost of their own accord, dial Tatiana.

She picks up on the first ring, like she has a sixth sense for my meltdowns.

“Sabrina?”

“Tati,” I choke out, tears finally breaking free, hot and fast. “It’s… it’s Leo. Page Six. Jen Takahashi. It’s… everything. Cocaine off her tits, office affairs… it’s all out there. And he… he just… he just told me he retired from wingsuiting. For Mia. Forus. And thenthishits.”

---