All Chapters of IT'S A JOB, NOT A RELATIONSHIP, MR. BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

NATHAN'S POVThe weight of the lawsuit Cecilia filed against me still pressed heavily on my chest, but for Hope’s sake—my daughter—I tried to keep things civil. The last thing I wanted was a legal battle that would leave emotional scars on her. That’s the only reason I hadn’t retaliated, hadn’t let my anger control me. I told Isla everything, and as expected, she wasn’t just shocked—she was furious. But instead of reacting rashly, she promised to handle it. She said she would talk to Cecilia woman to woman and try to get to the bottom of it.That afternoon, Cecilia left the apartment with Hope. She said she was meeting Isla. I stayed back, uncertain of what to expect. Hours passed like days. My chest tightened each time I heard footsteps in the hallway, but none of them were hers. When the door finally creaked open, I jumped up from the couch.Cecilia stepped in, carrying Hope in one arm, her purse in the other. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she’d been crying all the way home."Ce

NATHAN’S POVThe morning after Cecilia left felt unreal. The apartment was too quiet, stripped of any trace that a baby had ever been here. No toys, no baby bottles, not even the faint scent of baby powder. She’d taken everything—Hope, her clothes, the stroller, even the tiny pink socks I loved putting on my daughter’s feet.I stared at the silence, trying to make sense of what had happened. I had trusted Cecilia—maybe too much. I had doubted Isla—definitely too much. And now? Now everything felt like it was crumbling.That’s when the letter came. Delivered to the restaurant by a courier, neatly sealed in an envelope with legal branding on the top. A letter from Cecilia’s lawyer.It wasn’t just about child support anymore.They were threatening legal action over “emotional instability,” “parental neglect,” and “verbal coercion by a third party.” The third party? Isla.That was the moment I knew I had to call my lawyer, Mr. Graham.Later that afternoon, I sat in his downtown office. Mr

NATHAN'S POV The morning sunlight streamed in through the window as I helped Hope tie her shoelaces. She looked up at me with that innocent smile that always melted my heart.“Are you ready for school?” I asked, brushing a loose curl away from her forehead.She nodded eagerly. “Yes, Daddy!”My heart swelled every time she called me that. It had only been a few weeks since the court granted me custody, and life was finally starting to feel... normal. Or at least as close to normal as it could be, considering everything we’d been through.We got in the car, and I drove her to school like I always did. I didn’t mind waking up earlier than usual. I wanted to be the kind of father she could depend on—present, involved, and loving. After all the battles, I was finally getting to live the part I’d fought for.When we reached the school, I parked the car and walked her to her classroom. That was where I first properly spoke to her class teacher, Miss Taylor.She greeted me with a warm smile.

NATHAN'S POV Being a full-time father wasn’t in my plans, but the moment I held Hope in my arms and saw her smile, everything changed. My life used to revolve around work, stress, and late-night deadlines at the restaurant. Now, every morning started with soft giggles, a bottle, and the routine of dressing her tiny body in pink or purple onesies. She never cried when I dropped her off at school—not once. Her teacher always said the same thing: "She's quiet, polite, and smiles a lot." I started taking her to the restaurant some days. My staff loved her. Chef Bruno, a big guy with tattoos and a rough voice, melted into a puddle around her. He'd carry her around the kitchen like she was royalty, letting her point at ingredients and pretending she was calling the shots. Hope would laugh, wide-eyed and curious. My sous-chef, Maria, even brought toys and set up a mini-play area near the office. It was strange and beautiful to have this little girl become the heart of a place that once fel

NATHAN'S POVIt was late evening by the time I pulled up outside Isla’s apartment. The sun had dipped low behind the skyline, casting an orange hue across the city. In the backseat, Hope was asleep, her head tilted to the side, a faint smile still on her lips. She’d spent the afternoon drawing pictures of rainbows and animals at my restaurant. The staff adored her. Chef Marco had even made her a mini pizza with a smiley face—extra cheese, just the way she liked it.I sat in the car for a moment, watching her peaceful expression. It hit me again—how much I loved this little girl. How deeply my life had changed since she entered it. And how desperately I wanted to protect her from the chaos I had let spill into our lives.But tonight wasn’t just about Hope. It was about Isla. About the truth. About where we went from here.Earlier that morning, I had texted Isla: "Dinner? Just us. And Hope." Surprisingly, she agreed. We decided on a small Italian restaurant tucked between two art galler