Page 3 of Billionaire's Fake Wife: A Single Mom BWWM Romance

I love my dear mother, but for the life of me, I could never get her passion for fashion.

Again, don't get me wrong, I'm not some bum who just spends his time lounging around the house in his five-week-old sweatpants and munches on junk food. Nor am I some an introverted nerd with a face filled with acne, and spends his weekends getting lost on academic books, trying to learn all of that he can about his subject of desire.

No, I'm the son of a fashion empress.

When I'm not wearing my silk pajamas, I'm always in a tailored suit of the most elegant fabrics. I won't even blame you if you mistake me for a demi-god of a model, rather than an accountant. In fact, most of the high-end girls I've dated do. God bless their sweet little hearts, never mind the fact that most of them are usually only in it either for the money or fame.

Take, for example, Cirilla des Moines, a high countess of Tuscany. The Ashen-haired, -emerald-eyed heiress, with a body a supermodel would die for. She always wore fantastic jewelry that would only be surpassed by her grace and poise. We'd spend summers in Italy, bathed in milk and honey, bed littered with yellow rose petals, and drunk on wine and passion. But I found out, at a later date, that her family had been a hair edge's away from bankruptcy for almost a decade now. Apparently, the matron of her family had set us up in the hopes of joining the des Moines with the Fields families and saving their family from shame in poverty.

The funny part about this is how my mother found out about the conspiracy. It was when she accidentally walked in on Cirilla sleeping with her lawyer. The biased contract was presented in front of her, favoring the des Moines just sitting on a table a few feet away from where they did their nasty deed.

Money is the root of all evil? Please, money is just a tool for civilization to flourish. It merely amplifies an individual's psychological tendency. And obviously, Cirilla's trend wasn't to spend the rest of her life with me. Sometimes, I read her DM's in her blocked account on my Instagram account just to see how far she had fallen.

But let's not put my dating life in the spotlight here, because, for me, love is inconsequential right now.

For me, what is essential at this moment, and in every moment of my waking life, is work. But not just any other ordinary work. No, I mean actual work. Saving the turtles, ending world hunger, and even hopefully, saving the world. You know, the simple stuff. The simple things that make the world go round.

I'm no superhero, of course, but I'm taking my first baby steps as I go through the books of my dear mother's company. I've already mapped out a few strategies to save the company hefty amounts of money. And that's not just because I'm trying to destroy the image that my family members have of me, that I'm just some spoiled rich kid who only wants to buy cars and party. I want to change the world, make it better, possibly save it, and I'm going to do it with my company.

Excuse me, my darling mother's company. She's still the president, after all, and I'm just her lovable and hard-working glorified accountant. I'm just making sure that when she does pass on the torch, I'll have the most significant golden egg on a silver platter delivered to me that I can crack to fund all of my planned projects.

I transfer all the saved income to a bogus account in the ledger and have it all deposited into a trust fund. And when this baby matures, I'll have enough resources to make even Batman die of envy.

But so far, mother hasn't even begun to groom me for her position. Usually, at this stage in their careers, presidents should already be assigned tasks and assignments to their successors, to have a better transition period once they retire.

But what have I gotten from my mother? Just an electronic birthday card I got on my e-mail on my birthday that's even clearly made by her most trusted employee, Sonya.

Speak of the devil, there she is right now, walking past my office, frantically pacing herself while carrying a tall cup of coffee. In spite of her lack of poise, she is looking as exotically beautiful as always. Maybe it's her height, her tight body, or probably even her daring dark blue-black hair, but I've always wanted to get to know her better.

I try to catch up to her, but she's already gone before I can even get out of my office. The universe doesn't agree to our meeting, even though my intent is nothing but of the purest of intentions.

Sigh, oh well. At least Sonya's still in the company, I say to myself. Mother can be quite the uptight team leader. The overall turnover rate is usually higher whenever we have new employees hired under her. My mother just has this certain 'allure' when it comes to her employees. The kind of allure that seems to make them want to stay a few thousand kilometers away from her.

Now that I think about it, Sonya's been the longest employee that I've ever seen work under, Mom. And she's always got that million-dollar smile on her face as if she's immune to mother's scary aura.

I've been able to work with her a few times, but I've never really gotten to notice her. Well, up until now that she's working for Mom.

I quickly sit back on my chair and search for files of the projects that Sonya and I have done.

Remarkable. The food drives, community outreach, and even the Christmas giveaways programs that we've worked on are all smashing successes!

According to the reports, Sonya was able to meet the allocated budget for each event and has never submitted it with a delay. Even at the most stringent levels of our key performance indexes, Sonya was way ahead of the curve.

That can't be right. No one can be THAT perfect, I say to myself. But I recheck the feedback surveys we always send to the participants of our events. It's graded from a scale of one to five, wherein five is the best grade, and one is the worst grade. Lo and behold, to my surprise, events organized by Sonya have always beaten the company average by a margin of one point and above. It's not just that she's making the company happy, she's also making internal and external customers satisfied.

Fascinating.

And there she was running around errands fit only for an assistant. Oh, mother, when will you ever start to realize the potential of these people in your company. People like Sonya and me.

This will simply not do.

I get out of my chair and grab my coat before leaving the office.

Sonya is a beautiful and talented asset to the company. If my mother is too high up on her horse to give Sonya the recognition that she deserves, and let's face it, probably needs right now from all the stress my mother has been dishing out on her, then it'll have to fall on me to do so.

Here I come, Sonya.

Three

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