Page 27 of The Billionaire's Christmas Wish

One thing's certain—today, the family secrets end. I'm here to expose the truth, no matter how messy. Only raw honesty will fix this broken mess.

The imposing house towers over me, no longer welcoming, only threatening. My heartbeat pounds, drowning out the engine's soft hum as I park at the mansion.

As emotions whirl inside, I see only secrets hiding within these walls, not happy memories.

What clues did I miss? Were there signs I ignored? Could I have prevented this mess by paying attention?

The guard dogs, Argo and Borax, bark and howl as they tear across the grass, bounding toward me.

The Belgian Malinois were bred in the kennels I keep in Rorvik. I gave them to my parents as a gift a few years ago.

Dad’s estate manager, Trey, has been working for my parents since I was a boy, and while the dogs are young, Trey is not.

He’s breathing hard. “Easy, you two.”

I pocket my car keys and kneel to give the dogs a hearty scratch behind the ears. “It’s okay. I’ve missed them,” I admit.

“Mr. Regis. I wasn’t expecting you.”

I was in a hurry and hadn't considered the possibility my parents could be out. “Are my parents home?”

“They're inside,” he confirms.

I enter the grand foyer with its crystal chandeliers and sweeping staircase, calling out, “Hello!”

The familiar scents and lavish Christmas tree radiate a sense of home, but I can't focus. Audrey occupies my thoughts.

Mom appears, surprised. “Luca! Just in time for gin rummy.”

In the sitting room, Dad smiles and deals the cards. I settle into a leather armchair as Mom pours whiskey.

We play a few rounds, sipping whiskey, the ice clinking in our glasses the only sound.

Dad notices my restless tapping. Peering over his bifocals, he breaks the silence.

“Something on your mind?”

Dad's voice takes on the tone he reserves for business rather than family.

I exhale heavily. “You know I’m working with Audrey.”

“Mm, yes. Roberto mentioned it,” Mom mutters, not meeting my eyes as she clenches her jaw. “How’s the filming?”

Is she being serious?

My grip on the crystal tumbler tightens. “I'm not here about the movie. We need to talk about Audrey.”

Tension charges the room. I refill my whiskey for liquid courage.

Mom shoots Dad a loaded glance before staring at her cards, jaw tight.

“You heard she broke her engagement?” I say, steadying my voice.

Dad clears his throat, a storm brewing behind his expressionless face. He leans back, crossing his legs.

“Sad business. Audrey’s parents were quite upset,” he offers cautiously.

I scoff. “Audrey’s parents should be thankful. She dodged a lifetime of unhappiness.”

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