All Chapters of ONE NIGHT STAND WITH MR.BILLIONAIRE : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Melinda’s POVThe drive to Fremont was longer than I remembered.Four hours from L.A., endless coastline, too much time to think. Carrie offered to come. James did too. I told them both no.If I found the child, I needed to look them in the eye — alone.The cover was simple. I’d booked a visit to a women’s transitional shelter I had funded through the Initiative. I’d worked with them twice before, sent resources, helped fund legal aid. This visit wouldn’t raise suspicion.But that wasn’t the stop I cared about.The one that mattered was three blocks down from the shelter:Roosevelt Academy — a small, well-rated private middle school with 212 students and a single mention of a scholarship program funded through anonymous donors.I had a feeling I knew who the donor was.The shelter meeting was short.Smiles, photos, plans for new modular units.I gave my pitch. Signed the check. Posed with a board member. Then excused myself with a smile and slipped into a car headed straight for the s

Melinda’s POVWe agreed to meet at a park.Neutral ground.No school.No house.Just a bench under a jacaranda tree, shade falling soft and purple around the edges.River wore black jeans, a gray hoodie, and headphones pushed back around their neck. They looked both younger and older than twelve — that strange, in-between place where childhood and defiance live side by side.They stood before I did.Hands in pockets.Expression unreadable.“You’re Melinda Holt,” they said.I nodded. “And you’re River.”They gave a small shrug. “Today I am.”I smiled.We sat.There was a beat of silence.Then River said, “I Googled you.”I laughed softly. “Did you like what you found?”“No.”That stopped me.They didn’t say it with spite.Or judgment.Just honesty.“I don’t like stories that feel… unfinished.”I looked at them.Their eyes didn’t flinch.“What do you want to know?”They pulled something from their pocket.A folded page.Crisp. Printed.It looked like a press clipping, but I couldn’t rea

Melinda’s POVThe courtroom was silent when River stood.They wore black — not dressy, not sloppy — just enough to say I know what this is and I came anyway.Their hands were tucked into their jacket pockets.Their hair was tied back.Their chin was lifted.They didn’t look at me.They didn’t look at the O’Connor rep.They looked at the judge.And said:“I don’t want anyone deciding what my life should look like. Not yet. Not like this.”There was a pause.Then the judge leaned forward.“River, do you object to the trust being formed on your behalf?”“I don’t know what it really is,” River said. “But it feels like a leash.”The O’Connor lawyer shifted in his seat.“And Ms. Holt?”“She didn’t ask for anything,” River said. “She just gave me… pieces. Of my mom. Of a story no one else gave me. I’m not ready to belong to anyone’s version of it yet.”I didn’t breathe for a full thirty seconds.Not out of fear.Out of awe.Because River wasn’t confused.River was clear.They weren’t asking

Melinda’s POVI almost didn’t answer the call.The number was local, but I didn’t recognize it. And I’d gotten too used to ignoring things with no name attached.But something — instinct, maybe — told me to pick up.“Melinda Holt?” a man asked.I paused.“Yes. Who’s this?”A breath.Then:“My name is Daniel Holt. I’m Andrew’s brother.”I didn’t speak.Not at first.Because Andrew had never mentioned a brother. Not once. Not during the marriage. Not during the divorce. Not even during the custody battle.The only family I ever saw was Margot — quiet, cold, calculating Margot — who knew how to do nothing but smooth over cracks and pour more concrete over the truth.“I didn’t call to stir anything up,” Daniel said. “I just… I read your book. Or most of it. An early copy. A friend at the publisher forwarded it.”Of course they had.“Go on.”“I think you left something out,” he said.I swallowed.“I left a lot out.”“Not on purpose,” he said gently. “But because you didn’t know.”Then he s

Melinda’s POVThe call came two days after the launch.Blocked number.Unknown voice.But I knew who it was before she said a word.“Melinda,” Margot said, “I’d like to see you.”I stopped walking.Outside, the city pulsed with life — cars, voices, heat shimmering on pavement.Inside me, everything froze.“Why now?” I asked.There was a long pause.Then she said:“Because the letter you think is the last one… isn’t.”James’s POVShe didn’t tell me what Margot said.Not at first.Just that she was going. Alone.I offered again.She shook her head again.“This isn’t about protection,” she said. “It’s about confrontation.”She didn’t say it, but I knew.She wasn’t walking into a trap.She was walking into the past — to finally, fully finish it.Melinda’s POVMargot’s house hadn’t changed.Still white stone and high hedges.Still silence thick as fog.She answered the door wearing a gray cardigan and a tired expression.Her hands trembled slightly, but she didn’t mention it.“This way,” s