Page 24 of Billionaire's Fake Wife: A Single Mom BWWM Romance

"Oh, I guarantee you'll mess up, but don't we always? At least, I do; I always mess up, but I'm still here. The important thing is you know how to fix your mistakes."

"Easy for you to say. You're the boss' son."

"People may cry nepotism a lot of times, but the truth is, she'll even be more harsh and demanding because I'm her blood. Be thankful you're not related to her."

Grant's laugh is hollow, and my heart goes to him. It seems like he needs to unpack some baggage.

"Anyway," he continues as if he hasn't just hinted at something. "I've told you this, and I'll keep repeating it until you believe me: you're brilliant. Just do your thing. You'll survive, I'm sure of it."

After saying goodbye, the weight in my chest is replaced with a burning fire. I look around me.

This is a new challenge, and I'm ready for my new role. Being a Senior in this field isn't easy.

Twelve

Grant

I strut down the hallways, a musical rhythm in my gait. The sun is starting to set, but it feels like my day just started. I check myself out through a reflection on a nearby conference room window.

Sunglasses. Check.

Smart Casual Style Top and Bottom. Check.

Glass-cutting jawline and heart-melting smile? Double-check.

All I need is a pretty peppy soundtrack like "Walking on Sunshine," and this would be the perfect introduction scene to any movie.

"Lookin' good, Mr. Fields," greets Mark, the security guard staffing the reception desk for the night shift. He's a well-built man in his late prime with slight grays sprouting on his sideburns. But each and every day that I pass through, he never fails to shine that smile, no matter how hard his day was.

"Back at 'ya, Marky-boy," I respond. "How are the kids?"

"Why, they're growing up fast, sir," he gleefully replies as he stands up as I walk by. "Thanks again for giving us that loan for their tuition. I swear I'll pay it back this year, with interest."

I stop on my tracks and turn to Mark, "Loan? I don't seem to remember a loan."

Mark looks at me confused, "Yeah, don't you remember three months ago when you overheard me rambling on about my son missing next year––"

I put my arm around him and laugh out loud, "I don't remember any such thing, my good man!"

Then I whisper close to his ear, "Tell you what, you never talk about it again, and we'll call it quits, alright?"

Mark gives me the most strange look that I've ever seen in my life. But then his eye gets all watery and shakes my hand.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Fields," he whispers gleefully.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I complain while carefully using ventriloquism to say my next words. "What did I say about keeping it on the down-low?"

Mark looks around the room, making sure no one heard or seen us talking, "It's okay, Mr. Fields, I don't remember anything that transpired five minutes ago."

He gives me the most awkward wink a towering fifty-year-old man could ever give. But a better man, I'd be hard-pressed to find.

"Good," I say as I shake his hand. "Do say hi to Marge and the kids tonight, will ya?"

"Will sure do, Mr. Fields!" Mark says before I turn around, successfully keeping my secret safe and sound. Because who knows what might happen if my mother will know about my works of charity around the office.

But what's that old adage again? Speak of the devil?

Because just as I turn around to head for the exit doors, my beloved mother stands, arms crossed, and with those steely eyes that feel like they can see right through me.

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