Page 75 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
The results load.
Nothing. Not even a trace.
I try different combinations. A middle initial.Cal Reid + Forbes. Cal Reid + Everfield.I scroll past links about realtors and retired teachers and a surfer in California.
But notmyCal.
No profiles. No company records. No press features. No social media accounts.
Nothing.
It sinks in slowly. The weight of it. The realization I’ve been circling since I overheard those guests talking in the hallway.
This name isn’t real.
And if the name isn’t real, what else isn’t?
I sit at my desk for what feels like hours, staring at nothing, the glow of the screen long gone to sleep. My tea’s cold. My shoulders ache. But mostly, my thoughts are loud.
Ana’s knock on the door jolts me back to reality. She tells me the last guest has gone up, and I nod, already on my feet.
And then it’s back to motion. I’m up, helping in the kitchen, straightening pillows in the lounge, wiping down the front desk—anything to keep moving. Anything to keep from thinking too much.
By nine, the inn is quiet again. Lights dimmed. Doors closed. The kind of stillness that lets your thoughts catch up. Everyone’s asleep, except me.
I should go to bed. But instead, I drift upstairs, the creak of each step sounding louder than it should. My feet move before my mind fully catches up.
I stop in front of Cal’s door. I stand there for a full beat, debating. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I lift my hand and knock.
Cal opens the door, and for a second, he just stands there, stunned. Like he wasn’t expecting me. Like the last person he thought he’d see tonight was me.
“Margot?” he says, voice low, eyes flicking to the hallway behind me. “Is everything okay?”
I don’t answer that. I don’t even know what “okay” is anymore.
“Can I come in?”
He nods quickly and steps aside. “Yeah. Of course. Come in.”
The door shuts softly behind me, and before I can talk myself out of it, I turn to face him.
“Who are you, Cal?”
His brow furrows. “What?”
“You heard me.” My voice is quiet but sharp. “Who are you, really?”
He lets out a short breath. “Margot, what’s going on?”
I cross my arms, heart pounding. “That’s what I’d like to know.”
He gives me a confused half-laugh. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” I take a step forward. “I think you’ve known for a while that I’d eventually ask. So I’m asking now. Who are you? Because Cal Reid isn’t real. At least not online. There’s no footprint. No history. Nothing.”
He stills. All the amusement drops from his face.
“I can’t stop thinking about it. Because the more I think, the more I realize I don’t know anything about you.”
