The Billionaire’s Unexpected Love

“Congratulations and welcome to the family!”The room erupted with laughter and cheers, clinking glasses, and the sound of celebratory chatter. The scent of fresh roses and expensive wine lingered in the air, mingling with the aroma of a just-unwrapped fruitcake. The living room, where May had spent countless evenings with her in-laws, now looked like a scene from someone else's celebration — strangers in familiar clothing.“I can’t believe my son got someone pregnant,” her mother-in-law continued, voice practically glowing with joy. “I always knew you were not the problem. It was that woman with bad luck you got married to. Now that you are with a better woman, you see what’s happening!”In the hallway, just outside the room, May clutched a small box wrapped with a golden ribbon, the cake she had personally ordered earlier that day. Her heels clicked softly against the marble tiles as she stepped closer, her heart fluttering with excitement — and confusion. Her second wedding anniver

May POV.Please. Don’t come any closer. Please, I’m begging you. I’m just a broke and miserable woman. Please… spare my life.The words stumbled out of me like broken glass, slicing my throat as they came. My voice cracked under the weight of sheer despair. My legs trembled violently as I staggered backwards, arms stretched out in front of me like they could somehow shield me from the nightmare unfolding in front of me.The streetlamp above me flickered, throwing jagged silhouettes of my shaking body across the cracked pavement. I could barely see through my swollen eyes, the aftermath of hours—hours—of crying. And now this. As if the universe had decided to punish me one final time. This was the end, wasn’t it?The desperation in my chest clawed its way up to my throat, a raw, animal thing that made it hard to breathe. Death wasn’t just a thought—it was right here, looming, a few cruel steps away.Then one of them stepped forward.He was tall, built like a brick wall, with tobacco

May’s POVThe sound of a child’s soft, hiccupy sobs stirred me from what felt like the deepest sleep I’d ever known. For a second, I didn’t know where I was. My head was heavy, my mouth dry, and then—pain.A sharp, burning ache radiated from my shoulder and spread like wildfire through the rest of my body. I winced, every inch of me aching, and let out a quiet gasp. My fingers instinctively reached for the pain, brushing against the bandage that covered the wound. That was when the antiseptic smell hit me—pungent, cold, clinical.My eyes fluttered open, and I blinked against the harsh white lights. The ceiling was too white. Too still. And then it hit me—hospital. That smell, the silence, the low beeping in the background, the faint sounds of footsteps echoing in tiled hallways… I hated hospitals.A wave of nausea rolled through me.Maybe it was the medication, or maybe it was the memories. I remembered getting lost in a hospital as a little girl—wandering down hallways for what felt

May POVThe moment the self-proclaimed cold billionaire stormed out of the room, the tension that had been curling like a fist inside my chest finally unraveled. I huffed and released a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.“What an arrogant bastard,” I muttered to myself.If it hadn’t been for Saint—sweet, innocent Saint—I would’ve said so much more. But I held back. Barely. For his sake.Still, I laid out a few choice curses under my breath for that smugly handsome man. And honestly? If his face weren’t sculpted like a Greek god’s on vacation, I probably would’ve unleashed a full verbal hurricane. But there was something infuriating about that jawline, those eyes, the way he smirked as though he owned the sun and moon and everything in between.I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t about to waste another thought on John Bells.The doctor returned not long after, clipboard in hand and a half-smile on his face. “Miss Hemlings, your vitals look great. You’re fit for discharge.”Finally,

May's POV It was just another morning at the café. The kind where the sound of the espresso machine steamed over the soft murmur of old jazz playing from the corner speaker. I was running on three hours of sleep, a lukewarm muffin, and the stubborn belief that my life might not be falling apart as badly as it seemed.Three days in, and I had the whole setup memorized. Mr. Tom’s coffee mugs had tiny chips on the handles. The regulars liked their bagels toasted twice. The AC made a weird hissing sound when the weather got too humid, and I’d learned to drown it out by focusing on my work.Work meant peace.It meant forgetting I was homeless, jobless, and had almost died trying to save a little boy whose father looked at people like me like we were gum on the bottom of his polished shoe.Saint. God, I missed that boy.But no—I couldn’t afford to think about him. Or the jerk that gave him his last name.So when the door chimed and someone stepped in, I didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. I wa