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2025-07-05 16:00:55Tyler
The late afternoon sun casts golden streaks through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the mansion. I sip a scotch, leaning back into the leather armchair in the private lounge, the fire crackling nearby. Meg lounges across from me, curled up with a glass of wine in hand, her expression thoughtful—too thoughtful.
“So?” I ask, breaking the silence. “How did your little meetup with Stacey go?” She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “As expected. She accused me of everything under the sun—manipulation, betrayal, lies. Said I was trying to ruin her life.”
I chuckle darkly. “She’s not wrong.”
“She’s dramatic,” Meg continues. “I didn’t even raise my voice. I stayed calm. But she was... f
Latest chapter
Tempting A Billionaire 73
StaceyNancy and I start working right after breakfast. The guest list is small, intimate. Just my closest friends—Raya, Rose, Dani, and Mae. Women who know me, love me, and have stood by me through storms I thought would drown me.We light candles, set out fresh gardenias in crystal vases, and prepare a modest spread—lemon tartlets, smoked salmon bites, Nancy’s famous rosemary chicken, and a chilled bottle of sparkling peach cordial. The house smells like citrus and lavender, a strange kind of calm before the inevitable chaos.I’m arranging place cards at the table when I hear the sharp click of heels against marble.“Hosting a tea party?” Marsiella sneers, crossing her arms as she surveys the decorations. “No,” I say with
Tempting A Billionaire 72
StaceyI wake up to the smell of toast burning. Nancy never burns toast.I throw on a robe and pad downstairs, my pulse already tight with dread. I know before I even reach the bottom of the staircase who’s taken over the kitchen. And when I turn the corner, I find her—Marsiella—standing in front of the stove like she’s always belonged here.She turns her head slightly, as if she hears my footsteps, but doesn’t greet me. She’s dressed to perfection, hair swept up, blouse crisp, and her lips painted like she’s ready for a public appearance. There’s no mess, no clutter—except for the smoke curling from the toaster.Nancy stands in the corner like a shadow, her hands fidgeting with a dishtowel, clearly displaced. I
Tempting A Billionaire 71
StaceyI’m in the kitchen early, before the sun has fully pushed through the clouds, slicing strawberries and humming softly under my breath. Nancy’s working beside me, her hands steady as always, prepping breakfast for the day. There’s something comforting in the scent of fresh herbs and butter sizzling gently in the pan. It’s the only sense of normalcy I have left in this house.And then I hear it. The sharp tap of heels against the tile floor. “Good morning,” Marsiella says, her voice soaked in sugar and poison. I stiffen, fingers tightening around the knife. “Good morning,” I manage, without turning around.She watches us silently for a beat too long, then crosses the kitchen like she owns it—like she’s always owned it. “I’ve been thin
Tempting A Billionaire 70
StaceyJuan hasn’t smiled in days.Even now, seated beside me at the breakfast table, he barely lifts his eyes from the plate. His fork scrapes against porcelain, a lifeless sound that feels like nails on my nerves. His shoulders sag with invisible weight, jaw tight as if it hurts to even chew. I know that posture. I know that pain.His mother sits across from us, pristine in her linen blouse, her makeup sharp and untouched by time. I try to match her politeness, meet her cold eyes with warmth, but she only glances at me like I’m some stray that wandered into her perfect estate.She doesn’t need to say anything—her silence cuts sharper than her words.“You haven’t touched your toast,
Tempting A Billionaire 69
JuanThe office smells like antiseptic, pinewood polish, and espresso—sterile, sharp, efficient. But none of it matters. I’m not really here. My body is seated behind my desk, signing off on paperwork and pretending to listen to Roger update me on board decisions. But my mind is at the breakfast table, stuck in that moment—my mother’s smile slicing into me like a razor.She said nothing cruel this time. Not directly. Not like before. But her presence alone felt like violence. Her voice was calm, measured—almost sweet—but I’ve learned never to trust sugar when it coats poison.“You always had a temper, Juan,” she told me over breakfast, looking at me with those steely eyes like she owned me. “Even as a boy. Always running off. Always rebelling. And for
Tempting A Billionaire 68
JuanThe sunlight filters through the thin curtains, but it doesn’t reach me. Not really. I lie there in silence, the warmth of Stacey's absence lingering on the sheets, my body cocooned in her scent, but my mind a thousand miles away—in another decade, in another house, with a woman whose voice could chill the bones.When I step down the stairs with my beloved wife, I am frozen. My eyes almost bulged out of my sockets, and the ground slipped off my feet when I watched the woman standing next to the sofa. My heart is racing rapidly, and my lips are slowly turning white.The woman I so despise…my mother. She is back.Just the thought sends a cold current through my chest. I haven’t seen her in years but now as she stands at the grand foyer,
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