Page 44 of My Billionaire Casino Boss

Christina joins us in the afternoon, her eyes wide as she takes in the spread of food on the kitchen counter. “Wow, you guys have been busy,” she says, reaching for a cookie.

“Hands off,” I warn, swatting her hand away. “Those are for after dinner.”

Christina sticks her tongue out at me, just like she used to when she was little, but she retreats, settling down at the kitchen table with a book. We fall into a comfortable silence; the only sounds are the sizzle of the pan and the turning of pages.

Later, we move to the backyard, the heat drawing us to the pool. Christina and I race each other to the pool deck, our laughter echoing in the air. It’s been a while since we’ve done this, just the two of us, being silly and carefree. It reminds me of our childhood and of simpler times.

As I float on my back, staring up at the clear blue sky, I feel a sense of peace wash over me. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions, a roller coaster ride that I didn’t sign up for. But right now, in this moment, everything feels okay.

The weekend passes too quickly, the hours melting away in a blur of laughter and shared memories. By the time Sunday night rolls around, I feel more like myself than I have in weeks. I’m still hurt and I’m still angry but I’m also stronger and more resilient.

As I pack up my things, preparing to head back home and deal with the disaster of my life, I feel a pang of sadness. I’m not looking forward to facing the reality of my situation, of dealing with the fallout of Thomas’s actions. But I also know that I can’t hide forever. I need to face this head-on.

twenty-five

Lay It All Out - Thomas

Thepasttwoweekshave been a blur of self-pity and regret. I’ve been holed up in my house, ignoring calls and avoiding the casino. My life feels like it’s spiraling out of control, a sensation I’m not accustomed to. I’ve always been the one in charge, the one calling the shots. Now I feel like I’m a spectator in my own life, watching as everything I’ve worked for crumbles around me.

The damage to my business’s reputation is bad, but it’s nothing compared to the damage I’ve done to my personal life. I’ve made a laughingstock of myself, and worse, I’ve hurt Lily. The thought of her, of the pain I’ve caused her, is a constant ache in my chest. She’s all I can think about, all I dream about. And each thought, each dream, is a harsh reminder of what I’ve lost.

I spend my days pacing around like a maniac, my mind a whirlwind of regret and longing. I replay our last conversation over and over again, each word, each look, etched into my memory. I think about what I could have done differently, about the words I should have said. No matter how much I wish for it, I can’t change the past. I can’t undo the hurt I’ve caused.

After two weeks of wallowing in self-pity, I finally realize that I can’t wait around for something to change. I can’t sit here, hoping for a miracle. If I want to make things right, I need to take charge. I need to be the man who deserves Lily.

With a newfound sense of determination, I force myself to get up, to get dressed. I look at myself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the man staring back at me. I look worn out and tired. I square my shoulders, steeling myself for the task ahead. I need to face the consequences of my actions, to repair the damage I’ve done.

I head to the casino, and my employees look surprised to see me, their eyes wide as they quickly avert their gazes. I can feel their whispers, their judgment. But I don’t let it deter me. I have a job to do, a reputation to rebuild.

As I step into my office, I take a deep breath. This is just the first step, the beginning of a long journey. But I’m ready. I’m ready to fight, to prove that I’m not the man they think I am. I’m ready to show Lily that I can be the man she deserves. I just hope it’s the truth.

The casino is a hive of activity, the familiar hum of conversation and clinking of chips a comforting backdrop to my tumultuous thoughts. I walk through the floor, forcing myself to meet the eyes of my employees, to smile and nod in greeting. I won’t let my personal life affect my professional one. I won’t let them see me falter.

“Mr. Ward,” one of the dealers, a young woman named Jenna, greets me with a hesitant smile. I return it, asking her about her day, about the tables. It’s a small interaction, but it’s a start.

As I move through the casino, I make a point to engage with my employees, to show them that I’m still the same man, still their boss. I ask about their families, how their shifts are going, and about any issues they might be having. I listen to their concerns, promising to address them. Slowly, I can see the tension easing, the whispers dying down.

In my office, I meet with one of my managers, a quiet, pleasant man named Paul. He’s been with me since the beginning, and his loyalty is unwavering. We discuss the state of the casino. There has been a drop in web traffic and Paul thinks we need a new marketing strategy.

“Our website needs a serious overhaul,” Paul says, scrolling through the outdated pages on his tablet. “It’s not user-friendly, and it doesn’t showcase all we have to offer.”

I nod, my mind already whirling with ideas. I know someone who would be perfect for the job, someone whose talent is undeniable: Lily. She’s a brilliant graphic designer, and she understands the casino, understands me. She could bring a fresh perspective and a new approach. But first, I need to make things right with her. I need to show her that I’m willing to change, to be a better man.

I feel a sense of purpose, a sense of direction. I know what I need to do, and I’m ready to do it.

First, though, I need to clean up my mess.

I reach for my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I find the number I’m looking for. Lisa Bennett, a reporter for a local morning show. We’ve crossed paths a few times at charity events, and she’s always been fair in her reporting. If anyone can help me get my message across, it’s her.

I dial her number, my heart pounding in my chest. She answers on the second ring.

“I need a favor, Lisa,” I say, my voice steady. “I need to set the record straight. Can I come on your show?”

There’s a pause, then a soft sigh. “Thomas, if this is about the rumors—”

“It is,” I interrupt, my grip tightening on the phone. “And I want to address them. All of them.”

Another pause, longer this time. Then, finally, she speaks. “All right, Thomas. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

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