All Chapters of The Baker's Billionaire : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

MARION“THE GAMING FLOOR LAYOUT IS FINALIZED,” my project manager said, pointing to the plans of the latest progress. “Electrical work for the slot machine grid starts Monday. The VIP suites will be ready for inspection in two months.”The steady hum of machinery filtered through the glass walls of the temporary conference room overlooking the casino’s steel skeleton. Architects, contractors, investors, and the marketing team were gathered around the blueprint-covered table.“That’s good”. I commented, needing to wrap up this meeting ASAP.“So,” I said, getting up and turning to face the room, “we’ll have a soft opening in four months, followed by a grand launch.”“Mr. Whitfield,” my marketing director began with a small smile, “do you have a name for the casino yet? We’re already halfway through construction - we need it for branding, promotional materials, and licensing paperwork.” She's acting out of character today. As soon as she asked me the question, she fidgeted. I’m curious

MARION I sat in my office, watching the monitor that provided a live feed from The Oceanview Oasis, my second most sought-after resort. From this vantage point, every corner of the grounds was visible: Infinity pools glistening in the California sun, private bungalows tucked away like hidden treasures, and the occasional sight of a celebrity slipping in under a wide-brimmed hat or oversized sunglasses. When I find the right woman for myself, we’ll spend the weekend here.The place was a magnet for actors, musicians, athletes, and high-profile names who wanted to disappear from the spotlight for a while. Privacy was guaranteed here. The security was airtight - my brother Marcel made sure of that. No drone, no camera, no gossip blog could pierce the sanctuary I had built.“Mar,” Cyprian called out as he entered my office, his voice annoyingly casual as always. “We need to talk. I sent you a message, my friend.”“Yeah, I saw it. About what?” I said, not taking my eyes off the screen. O

DEMETRIASame night, minutes later…I made it home just in time, barely kicking off my shoes at the entrance before Anastasia showed up. The hum of the city outside fades behind the door. The familiar scent of my CHANEL perfume lingering in the living room area wrapped around me like an old friend.My apartment is a two-bedroom and cozy, here in West Hollywood. In the living area, a few potted plants lined the windowsill, their leaves catching the fading light, and illuminating the counter in the kitchen, and the soft, beige couch waiting for me to collapse onto it. I could hear the faint hum of the fridge in the corner of my kitchen. Nothing extravagant, but it felt like home—a quiet corner of the world where I could breathe. As I walked to the kitchen to set out the meal from Nobu, I heard her cheerful, slightly dramatic voice calling my name.“Demetria!” she chirped, stepping inside like she owned the place. I screamed; the place was so quiet before she entered. “Anas! You scared

DEMETRIA“Te extraño mucho, papá”. I miss you so much, Dad. I said over the phone, voice thick with emotion. We're on a video call.“Yo también te extraño, mi princesa”. I miss you too, my princess. He said, a base in his voice.My dad is in his early fifties. He and Mom gave birth to me right after college. I'm twenty-eight now. He owns a mechanic shop in Mexico, running his business for the past twenty years. His job keeps him fit.When I go out with him, people mistake him for my man, and he refuses to correct them. She's mine. That's what he says when he sees rough-edged men approaching me in public. Only a few people know that I'm his daughter. I wasn't spending much time with him as a kid.Since mom died, I've not seen him with any other woman. I wouldn't mind if he sought out a good woman. Not a wicked stepmother. Whenever I talk to him about having a relationship, he always says he's not ready. It's been exactly fifteen years. “How have you been? It's been a while,” I said.

MARIONThe boardroom at The Whitfield Diamonds Corporation LLC always smelled faintly of polished mahogany and tension. A dozen men in suits leaned forward around the long table, their eyes darting between the financial projections I’d put up on the screen and the silent figure of my father at the head of the table, with the new CEO at his side. My father only attends important meetings here.I cleared my throat, tapping the clicker in my hand. “As you can see, operating costs in South Africa have risen eight percent this quarter, largely due to increased security measures and labor adjustments. If we don’t reallocate from the underperforming European branches, we’ll cut into margins faster than we can recover them.”A murmur ran through the room. One of the older directors adjusted his cufflinks before speaking. “But shifting the budget from Antwerp? That branch has been in our family portfolio for fifty years—”I cut him off, firm but calm. “Tradition doesn’t pay the bills, gentleme