Page 9 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
I look at the bottom corner of the screen. Now I have to wait ten seconds before I can skip.
Fantastic.
The ad starts with a soft piano. A bird call in the distance. A slow pan over a cream clapboard Victorian-style house with wide wraparound porches and rocking chairs that look like they’ve actually been rocked in.
I glance at the timer.10… 9… 8…
“I need to upgrade to premium,” I mutter, flicking the screen with irritation. “If it’ll shut this crap off, they can take all my money.”
My thumb hovers over the screen, ready to tap away the second it lets me.
But my eyes drift back to the video.
“The Key & Kettle is a charming, three-story Victorian-style bed and breakfast nestled at the edge of the picturesque small town of Everfield, Illinois…”
I roll my eyes and glance at the countdown in the corner again.
7…6…5…
“…surrounded by rolling hills, maple trees, wildflower-dotted fields, and wineries…”
Iscoff. “What is this, a Hallmark movie?”
“Family-owned for three generations, the inn was once a private estate—lovingly turned into a bed and breakfast in the 1950s by the owner’s grandmother.”
Too much information. Why do we need to know that? I roll my eyes.
4…3…
The timer is suspiciously slow today. Is it trying to make me more frustrated? Or has it always been like this?
The video cuts inside the inn: vintage teapots on open shelves. Mismatched quilts draped over cozy beds. A plate of scones on a farmhouse table. The kind of warm lighting you can’t fake.
“Blending antique charm with quiet magic, every corner of the Key & Kettle is touched by intention—by comfort. By heart.”
2…1…
My thumb hovers over “Skip Ad.”
“And if what you’re looking for is peace—real peace—and connection… maybe even home…”
The screen shifts again. Laughter around a firepit. Someone passing a mug of cider. A golden retriever curled up by a crackling fireplace like it owns the place.
“…you’ll find it here.”
I don’t skip.
I don’t blink.
I just watch.
“Key & Kettle isn’t just an inn,” the voice finishes softly, “it’s family.”
By the time the screen fades to the logo and a simple button that readsVisit Our Site, I’ve already clicked.
The site loads in seconds.
Cream-colored background. Little teapot icons floating beside headers likeWelcome HomeandMeet the Innkeepers. It’s old-school, but cozy. Not slick or trendy like the sites I usually see pitched in boardrooms.
