Page 1 of Billionaire's Accidental Marriage
Prologue
Maggie
Three Months Ago
Tears flowed down my cheeks as I sat in my chair with a stiff back. I saw the pastor’s lips moving, but no sound registered against my ears. For the past few days, I’d been living in a bubble. A silent, lonely, existential bubble of absolute disbelief.
How the hell could my father be dead?
I felt Guadalupe holding my hand as Yuslan rubbed my back. I heard Margo and Ginger behind me, sniffling up a storm as they reached forward and ran their fingers through my hair. I knew it was knotted up; I looked like an absolute wreck. I mean, attending my father’s funeral in black leggings, a black tunic, and black flip flops?
I must’ve been a sight to behold.
The funeral passed in a blur, and I shook hands with people I’d never seen before. Being the businessman he was, my father had made a lot of people rich during his hay day. And I knew that was why some of them had come out to pay their respects. Without my father’s guidance and hard-knock knowledge of the retail business, none of them would have their fortunes and wealth. And while some people might have found it selfish for them to pay respects simply out of responsibility, I enjoyed the fact that they came out at all.
Everyone from the spa was there, too. Past and present, employees brought their significant others and their children along to hug my neck and cry with me. Even Gavin, Hollywood’s newest up-and-coming director, stopped by with Eva and his family to grieve with me before we headed to the burial.
I couldn’t thank them enough for taking the time out of their lives to be here.
But once we got to the burial site, the silent tears began falling again. Watching that casket being lowered into his grave shattered my soul. My chest hiccuped with silent sobs. I felt the life being torn away from my soul as Guadalupe’s tears dripped against the back of my hand.
Out of all the things that could’ve killed my father, it had to be a heart attack.
The man who didn’t eat out more than twice a month.
The man who got up and ran every morning.
The man who pumped weights three times a week.
The man who stuck to a strict vegetarian diet.
Some days, none of this even felt real.
Suddenly, all of the hard work I put into my body didn’t even seem worth it. The hours I spent at the gym and the tailored way I picked out all of my food seemed not to make sense. I mean, my father was the epitome of health, meeting most—if not all—modern standards of health. His exercise and eating regimen kept him out of hospitals, out of surgeries, and off medications that any man his age would’ve seen as normal.
Nothing seemed worth it any longer.
Even as the burial concluded, I stayed in my seat. People got up to come to shake my hand, and some even dipped down to hug me, but my eyes stayed locked with that hole in the ground.
I’ll never go home to see him again.
After everyone had dispersed, and after Guadalupe had filled my car with food that she and Yuslan had cooked last night, only I was left out in the middle of that cemetery. I watched men hard at work, tossing dirt into the unsuspecting hole and cleaning up the rigging system that lowered my father into it in the first place.
But, when he sat next to me, a whimper left my lips.
“I’m so sorry, Mags.”
I burst into sobs at the sound of Michael’s voice, and he quickly wrapped his arms around me. I lay against his chest, accepting the warmth and comfort of my only close friend that honestly could’ve been more like a mentor than anything else.
Most people wrinkled their noses at two people being friends with the age gap we had. But, I didn’t think that kind of thing made a difference.
“My God, I am so sorry,” Michael murmured.
I sniffled and sobbed until I started coughing relentlessly. My body raged out of control. And yet, Michael was there to hold me and ground me as I dripped snot against his expensive black suit. I wasn’t sure how long we stayed there or where the workers had gone when I looked up again. But, after he finally convinced me to walk back to my car and get inside, I saw him slide a piece of paper into my purse.
“What’s that?” I asked weakly.
He bent forward and rested his arm against my rolled-down window. “It’s for you to use. I got a new personal number as well as a new home office number. I want you to call them if you ever need anything, even if you don’t think it’s important. Okay?”
