Page 4 of My Forbidden Billionaire

I take a seat at one of the tables and look around the café. It’s cozy, with a warm yellow glow spilling from the lamps scattered across the room. The walls are lined with bookshelves, filled with an assortment of novels and magazines. Even though it’s late in the evening, there are still a few people scattered around, either chatting quietly or tapping away on their laptops.

It’s one of my favorite spots in the city, and I like to come here to clear my head before heading home after a long day of work.

The barista soon arrives with both hot chocolates, setting them down on the table in front of me. I take a sip of mine and close my eyes as the hot liquid slides down my throat. I can feel my tense shoulders start to relax.

I can’t help but think about the woman I just met.

Josephine was gorgeous, with short blonde hair that fell in perfect waves around her face and big beautiful eyes that were a stunning shade of green—it’s a shame they were holding so much pain.

My urge to comfort her was almost overwhelming.

The way her tears glistened in the moonlight, the sadness etched on her face—it was almost too much for me to bear.

Because the truth is, I know that look all too well. I saw it in the mirror every night after my wife passed away ten years ago, leaving me alone to raise our newborn daughter.

The pain of losing someone you love is never easy.

Which is why I offered her the same advice my grandmother gave me when I lost my wife—sometimes it’s the things that break us that make us stronger.

I take another sip of my hot chocolate, before collecting my things.

I glance over my shoulder one last time in hopes that Josephine might have changed her mind, and decided to join me. But there’s no sight of her, leaving only the memories of our brief encounter behind.

“Daddy! You’re home!”

My eyes light up as I see my daughter running towards me, her arms outstretched for a hug. I scoop her up, breathing in her sweet scent.

“You know I always come home, baby girl,” I say, kissing her forehead gently.

“I stayed up late tonight because I wanted to see you. I missed you so much,” she says, cuddling into my chest.

“I missed you too, sweetie,” I say, walking towards the kitchen with her in my arms. “I had a feeling you’d be up, so I brought you hot cocoa.”

“Yay! My favorite! Thank you, Daddy!” My heart swells with pride as I see the pure joy on her face.

I set her down at the kitchen table, and grab the container of marshmallows from the pantry. She beams at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement as I sprinkle the fluffy treats on top of her cocoa, the steam rising up in a cloud.

I sit down beside her, watching as she takes a sip. Her brown hair falls in curls around her face, just like her mother’s used to. She looks so content, so happy. It’s moments like these that remind me why I keep going, why I keep pushing through the challenges of being a single parent.

I may not have been able to save my wife, but I’m determined to give my daughter all the love and happiness in the world.

“Hey, Daddy,” she says, looking up at me with her sparkling green eyes.

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“Why do you keep having to work so late?” she asks quietly. “It’s lonely without you.”

My heart sinks a little as I realize she may have noticed my late nights more than I thought. She has loving grandparents, a nanny, and a butler. I was sure she couldn’t possibly notice my absence as much as she’s saying.

But then again, children can sense things that we adults cannot.

“I know it’s been hard these past couple weeks, but sometimes I have to work late to get the job done. And this job is how I’m able to provide for us,” I explain gently, taking her hand in mine.

As the CEO of my company, it means I have to work late sometimes. This month marks the end of our fiscal year—which requires extra effort from me and my team.

“I understand,” she says, nodding her head. “I just wish you could stay home with me.”

As much as I hate being away from my daughter for any length of time, this job is the reason I’m able to give her the comfortable life she deserves. But I don’t want her to think that her happiness is any less important to me than my work.

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