The Billionaire's Regret
Poppy called from outside, louder this time.
“Bunny has a lot of opinions for someone without a bank account.” Sebastian’s voice followed, calm, too close to the glass door.
Poppy gasped. “Daddy, don’t financial-shame Bunny!”
I closed my eyes for a second.
Daddy.
One small word. Four letters. In Poppy’s mouth, it was like a toy she’d found on the floor and immediately claimed as hers. No history, no sins, no documents. Just someone who carried her, fixed buttons, listened to Bunny’s stories, and maybe bought a coat no four-year-old needed unless that four-year-old was mine, obviously.