Her Ultimate Rich Daddy

The sound of the rain was deafening. It poured relentlessly against the windowpane of Summer Skyton’s small lakeside cabin. She sat curled up on the couch, a cup of untouched tea in her hands, her thoughts lost in the gray storm outside. Her eyes, though distant, glistened with unshed tears. Again. Always again.

She let out a shaky breath, pressing her back against the cold cushions. This place was supposed to be her sanctuary, her escape, her healing ground. But it had become a mirror—every silence, every quiet corner, just reflected the chaos in her heart.

“Why does love always end with heartbreak?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain.

She came to this place—north of Vancouver—to run from the pain. Two months ago, her fiancé, Oasis Gramper, died of lung cancer. He was the man who had made her believe love could be kind, love could be safe. Their meeting had been serendipitous: both seeking solace, both running from ghosts. Their time together was short, but meaningful. He had proposed under a field of stars, his eyes filled with hope and trembling promises. She said yes.

But just weeks after that promise, death came knocking again.

Oasis was gone. And she was left to pick up the pieces—again.

She had sworn never to fall in love again. Not after all the failed relationships. Not after being abandoned on the altar once by Lava Xovert, the first man who broke her in ways she never thought possible. Not after burying the only man who treated her like a treasure.

Marriage, to her, was a curse.

That was why, even now, she held tight to her new promise—the one she made to herself under the stormy sky on the day of Oasis’s funeral: “If marriage means being abandoned, if love means death or betrayal, then this will be the last tears I’ll ever shed. Never again.”

But promises like that are hard to keep when fate isn’t done with you yet.

The storm passed the next morning, and with it came a new day—an ordinary one, until Summer met him.

It happened at the town’s only diner.

She had been ordering coffee to go, wearing a hoodie and shades, hair pulled in a messy bun to avoid attention. She had no intention of talking to anyone. But then someone held the door open for her, and she accidentally spilled her hot drink onto his shirt.

“Oh my God—I’m so sorry!” she gasped, pulling tissues from her bag in a frenzy.

The man laughed. Not in mockery, but a full, rich sound that immediately warmed the space around them. “No worries,” he said with a charming accent she couldn’t quite place. “I’m fireproof anyway.”

She blinked up at him. He was tall—maybe six-foot-two—with deep brown eyes and a smile that held the sun. His shirt was soaked, yet he didn’t seem bothered.

“I’ll pay for dry cleaning,” she insisted.

“Not necessary,” he waved off. “I’ve had worse burns at work.”

“Work?” she asked, curious despite herself.

“Fireman,” he replied, then extended his hand. “Thunder Voldizépeña. And you are?”

She hesitated. “Summer.”

His grin widened. “Summer? Like the season?”

“Yeah,” she said, finally managing a small smile. “Like the season.”

And that was how their story began.

Over the following days, Thunder made it a mission to bump into her around town—at the library, the pier, even the grocery. At first, Summer thought it was coincidence. But it wasn’t. He was seeking her out.

He was warm. Persistent. Gentle, but confident.

It annoyed her how easily he slipped past her walls. How he made her laugh, despite her grief. How he remembered her favorite kind of tea and brought it with him during his walks. How he asked about her parents and not just her past.

Most of all, how he never pressured her to talk about Oasis or Lava or the shadows trailing behind her every step.

He just... listened.

“You don’t talk much about yourself,” she said one afternoon as they sat on the edge of a rocky trail.

“I will,” he promised. “When you’re ready to hear it.”

“Why are you here?” she asked him suddenly.

“Same reason you are,” Thunder replied. “To start over. To remember how to breathe.”

He wasn’t a stranger to pain. But he didn’t carry it like a badge. He wore it like armor—silent, but strong.

Summer tried to resist the pull. She really did. But the days blurred, and the smiles returned. The nightmares faded. Thunder’s presence started becoming a part of her routine, her recovery.

And then, one night under a velvet sky dusted with stars, he took her hand and said, “Summer, I know you’re scared. But I’m not like them. I’m not going to leave you. I don’t plan on breaking you. In fact, I want to spend the rest of my life trying to help you heal.”

She froze.

The breeze stilled. Her heart slammed in her chest.

“No,” she said, almost inaudibly.

Thunder blinked. “No?”

“I can’t... not again.” Her voice trembled. “You don’t know what happens when I say yes. People leave. Or die. Or break me.”

He stepped closer, gently touching her cheek. “I’m not them.”

“I made a promise,” she whispered. “To myself. Never again.”

“But what if this time,” he said softly, “you’re meant to break that promise? What if that promise is exactly what’s keeping you from living?”

She didn’t have an answer.

She ran.

Again.

But unlike the others, Thunder didn’t disappear.

He waited.

He understood.

He stayed.

And slowly, he began to unravel the fear locked deep inside her.

…He waited.

He understood.

He stayed.

And slowly, he began to unravel the fear locked deep inside her.

But just as Summer began to believe in the warmth of his presence, a name she thought she’d buried long ago suddenly echoed back into her world—Lava Xovert.

The past wasn’t done with her yet.

And neither was heartbreak.