Page 39 of My Billionaire Casino Boss

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Oh, man,” Eric says finally. “I’m sorry. That’s…that’s rough.”

“Rough doesn’t even begin to cover it,” I say, my voice strained. “Especially considering she cashed my check.” Eric makes a choking sound but doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “How am I supposed to fix things with Lily now? How am I supposed to show her I’m serious when the whole world knows our engagement was a sham?”

Eric hums thoughtfully. “You just have to be honest with her, dude,” he says. “You’ll have to tell her the truth. Tell her how you feel.”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I just hope she’ll listen,” I say, my voice filled with doubt.

“You won’t know until you try,” Eric says, his voice firm. “Thomas? No matter what happens, you must remember that you’re not the villain Hillary is painting you to be. You made a mistake, sure, but you’re trying to make it right. That counts for something.”

“Ugh, stop being so nice to me,” I say, laughing. He’s right, though. I made a mistake—a big one—but I’m just a man who fell in love when he least expected it. And now, I have to fight for that love, no matter what.

My phone rings again, and this time, the caller ID shows my parents’ number. I hesitate a moment before answering, steeling myself for the conversation to come.

“Thomas,” my mother’s voice comes through the line, sharp and cold. “We just saw the news. Care to explain?”

I sigh, rubbing a hand over my face. “It’s a long story, Mom.”

“We have time,” she replies, her tone unyielding.

So, I tell them. I tell them about the fake engagement, about how it was all a ruse to help Lily and also boost the casino’s image. I tell them about how things got complicated, about how I fell for Lily, about how I messed up.

There’s silence on the other end of the line when I finish. I can almost hear my parents exchanging glances, their disappointment palpable even through the phone. I know they’re both sitting in the living room, each with a cordless phone to their ear and giving each other somber looks about the sorry state of their wayward son.

“Thomas,” my father finally says, his voice heavy. “We raised you to be better than this.”

His words sting, but I can’t say I didn’t expect them. My relationship with my parents has always been complicated. They pushed me hard to succeed and to be the best. I appreciate the drive they instilled in me—but I’ve always felt like nothing I do is ever good enough for them.

“I know,” I say, my voice quiet. “I’m sorry. I messed up but I’m trying to make it right.” I don’t owe them an apology—I’m not really talking to them, though. In my head, I’m apologizing to Lily for my mistake.

There’s another pause before my mother speaks. “Well, you certainly have your work cut out for you,” she says, her voice cool. “We just hope you can fix this, Thomas. For your sake and for the sake of the family name.”

The call ends shortly after that, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Their words echo in my mind, a stark reminder of the mess I’ve created. Despite their disappointment, despite the mountain I have to climb, I know what I must do.

I’ll make things right with Lily. No matter what my parents think, and no matter what the rest of the world thinks, she’s the one who matters most. And I’ll do whatever it takes to win her back.

twenty-two

Fresh Start - Lily

I’vebeenstaringatmy laptop for hours, my fingers flying over the keys as I apply for job after job. Anything and everything remotely related to graphic design. I need a fresh start, a clean break from the chaos that my life has become.

I send out application after application. Each cover letter is carefully crafted, and each resume is meticulously tailored to match the job description. I spend hours researching each company, trying to understand their culture, their values, and their design aesthetic. I pour my heart and soul into every application, hoping that one of them will be my ticket to a fresh start.

My days are filled with a strange mix of hope and anxiety. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart leaps in my chest, only to sink when I see it’s just a promotional email or a text from a friend. The wait is agonizing, the silence deafening. I start to question everything—my skills, my experience, my worth.

One afternoon as I’m scrolling through yet another job posting, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, expecting another disappointment, but instead, I see an email notification from a local advertising agency. My heart skips a beat as I open the email.

“Dear Lily Adams,” it begins. “We are pleased to invite you for an interview for the position of Junior Graphic Design Associate at Fields and Morris Design.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. This is it. The opportunity I’ve been waiting for. The chance to prove myself, to start anew. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. It’s just an interview, I remind myself. It’s a relief after so many dead ends, a step in the right direction, and a glimmer of hope in what has been a challenging time.

I quickly type out a response, confirming my availability for the interview. As I hit send, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief. No matter what happens next, I’ve made it this far, and it’s something to be proud of.

On the day of the interview, I dress in my best professional attire, a sleek black blazer over a crisp white blouse, paired with a pencil skirt and heels. I take a deep breath as I step into the office building, steeling myself for the interview.

The office is sleek and modern, filled with creative energy. I can see people huddled over their computers; their faces are lit up by the glow of their screens. I can hear the hum of conversation, the clatter of keyboards. It’s not even close to the glitz and glamour of the casino, but it feels like a place where I could belong.

The interview goes well. The interviewer, a woman named Jessica, seems impressed with my portfolio and my experience at the casino. We talk about my skills, my goals, and my passion for design. I answer her questions with as much confidence as I can muster, trying not to let my nerves show.

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