All Chapters of ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Put My Name on the DoorMelinda’s POVThe morning I decided to do it, the sky was perfectly clear.No warning signs. No thunder in the distance. Not even the usual fog that sometimes clung to the coast outside our house like ghosts that didn’t know when to leave.It was just blue.Wide. Open.Unbothered.Which felt ironic, considering I’d spent the past two weeks dodging emails, spinning PR plates, reworking budgets, and fielding barely-disguised concern from investors who weren’t ready to say they didn’t trust me — but were definitely willing to question if I’d become “too exposed” to lead alone.As if love had diluted my capacity.As if motherhood had softened my steel.As if I hadn’t built every inch of this empire by bleeding for it.The foundation was holding. Barely.We’d stabilized three of the five stalled projects by pulling in private partners James had hand-picked — quiet benefactors who didn’t care about legacy boards or Marcus’s media smears. The twins were happy, the pre

Melinda’s POVIt started with a phone call.I was in a planning meeting, half-listening to a pitch on modular housing when my phone vibrated with a number I didn’t recognize — but the area code made my stomach drop.Local.I stepped into the hall, pressing the phone to my ear, already bracing.“This is Melinda.”The voice on the other end wasn’t panicked.It wasn’t angry.It was too calm.“Ms. Holt, this is Karen Price, vice principal at Cedarwood Elementary. We had a visitor this morning asking for your children.”My blood ran cold.“Elijah and Elena?”“Yes. The individual claimed to be a family member. We didn’t release any information — security protocol. But Elijah saw him and reacted strongly. He became very upset.”“What do you mean ‘upset’?”“He ran. Out of the classroom. Hid in the storage room under the stairs. Our counselor is with him now.”I didn’t hear the rest.I was already grabbing my keys.I barely remembered the drive. I was through the gates in under fifteen minutes

Melinda’s POVCarrie slid the envelope across my desk like it was ticking.“It came by courier. No signature required. Just your name on the front.”I raised an eyebrow. The envelope was thick. Ivory cardstock. Sealed with a gold-foil emblem I hadn’t seen in years, but recognized instantly.Halberd Capital.Not a name I expected — or wanted — to see again.I pulled it open slowly.The first page was clean. Simple.Proposal for Strategic Investment in The M. Holt InitiativeSubmitted by Halberd Capital PartnersManaging Director: Graham WhitmoreGraham Whitmore.Andrew’s former right hand.His fixer.His strategist.His shadow.He’d been there when the board pushed me out of my own company. He’d sat across the table with a pleasant smile and a poisoned contract in his pocket. He never raised his voice, never made the threats himself — he just handed over the paperwork and let someone else swing the axe.And now?He wanted to invest in me.Carrie folded her arms. “What do you want to do

Melinda’s POVThe press didn’t wait.Within six hours of releasing my statement, every major news site had picked it up. By the next morning, it was trending.Not the good kind of trending.Not Melinda Holt Builds New Legacy.Not Single Mother Turns Down Millions.Just three words, in bold across a dozen different headlines:SECRET. TRUST. HOLT.Some praised me.Most didn’t.They said I timed the release to dodge accountability. That my “refusal” to claim the money was an easy PR stunt, knowing public scrutiny was already aimed at the O’Connors.They called it suspicious.Strategic.Calculated.And no matter how many facts we released, no matter how many forensic accounting statements we handed over…The damage was done.Because the story wasn’t about money.It was about trust.And right now?People didn’t have it.Carrie slammed a folder down on my desk the next morning. “That’s the third donor to pull out in twenty-four hours.”I didn’t flinch.“Send thank-you notes anyway.”She loo

Melinda’s POVThe first delay seemed like a fluke.A missing city permit, misfiled by some underpaid clerk in the downtown zoning office. It pushed us back three days. Annoying, but manageable.The second was harder to explain — a soil safety report marked “pending” that was already approved. When we followed up, the file had mysteriously vanished from the shared portal.Then a contractor walked off the job.Then a materials shipment never arrived.And by the time Carrie stormed into my office holding a folder of incomplete inspection reports, I already knew what she was going to say.“We’re being sabotaged.”She slammed the folder on my desk and pointed to a red sticky note attached to a printed email chain.“I traced the project delay forms,” she said. “The ones that were submitted to the permit office. They didn’t come from us. They came from a flagged domain that links to a proxy account.”“Whose account?”She flipped the file open.“I’m still digging. But whoever it is? They have