The Bastard Billionaire

Chapter 6

**Miguel's P.O.V**

"Mom, please keep me updated always," I begged Mom.

I couldn't call her 'Mama' anymore, as per one of my father's conditions. It's not what I want, but I have to comply.

Mom and I went to the hospital for her check-up, seeking a second opinion, but the diagnosis remained unchanged. I've been pondering everything these past few days, including my work, which I've neglected. I'd give up anything for Mom. I've noticed subtle changes in her movements, so I've made the decision that's best for her.

"Sir, we'll take good care of Ma'am. Mr. Martin is waiting for you at his house," the attendant said. I glanced at him grimly and hugged Mom tightly.

We held that embrace for ten minutes. I didn't see Mom cry; she reminded me to be strong, that men don't cry. We laughed together, promising to face everything together after these trials.

Regarding my job, I knew it was improper to resign via text message, but I couldn't bring myself to face him. Letting him think ill of me is easier; perhaps he'll forget me quickly. I'm deeply grateful to him, but I have no other choice. I can't risk Mom's medical bills becoming a burden; they're nearly four times my monthly earnings.

One of my father's staff escorted Mom to the airport. Another aide would take me to their mansion.

As we passed through the grand gates, towering trees lined the path. Less than ten minutes later, we halted before another impressive gate with three steps leading to it. He opened the door for me and handed the keys to a man approaching us. We entered, and he led the way.

"He's here," I heard the escort announce.

Now in their living room, I saw him and two women around my age.

"Welcome home, son," my father beamed.

"Cheska, meet your brother Miguel Ice. Miguel, this is your sister Cheska, and my wife, your Aunt Gladys," he introduced, gesturing to his companions.

"Consider this your home from now on. Make yourself comfortable," he added warmly.

"Thank you," I managed, forcing a smile and nodding politely to both.

"Have you eaten yet? Let's have dinner together," he invited me.

Tita and Cheska remained silent, so I followed their lead. Yet, their occasional sharp glances didn't escape me.

We took our seats at the large dining table with eight places set. I sat beside my brother, but Dad redirected me next to him, with Cheska seated beside her mother. Unsure of the proper seating protocol among the wealthy, I noticed Cheska's slight agitation and Tita's apparent discomfort.

"Miguel, from now on, wake up before seven and take care of yourself. At seven-thirty, we'll have breakfast together before heading to the office. If you wake up late, you'll have to wait until lunchtime to eat. It's straightforward, except for one rule you must not break," he instructed, locking eyes with Cheska.

"Your salary will be paid between the 15th and 30th of each month," he added.

"Shouldn't business matters be discussed in your office? This is a family dinner; let's keep it to family topics," Tita interrupted Dad.

Dad nodded, and we finished the meal in silence. I found it hard to eat, not due to the food but because my thoughts were consumed with Mom.

Where is she?

Has she arrived?

Is she eating?

Who is with her?

I had so many questions, but I couldn't text her while in their presence.

I noticed everyone at the table had their phones out, except me. Their phones were sleek, with no protective stickers on the sides.

"Manang, we're done!" Cheska called out abruptly, rising from the table.

"I'm heading to my room. Goodnight, Dad, Mom, and you," she whispered to her parents, and I nodded in acknowledgment.

After she left, Dad said, "Treat us as your parents here. If you need something important, inform us first. If you're going somewhere, bid us farewell."

"In short, show us respect," Aunt interjected.

"I'll show you to your room," Dad concluded.

Alone again, I stood up. The middle-aged woman approached and instructed me to wait as she led me to my room. I offered to help tidy up, but she declined, saying it was her duty, and Dad wouldn't approve of us cleaning up after ourselves. They were here to serve us in the mansion, and out of respect, I complied and observed.

Soon, she returned and guided me upstairs. We entered a spacious room on the second floor of the mansion. She pointed out Aunt, Dad, and Cheska's rooms. I wondered silently why Dad and Aunt had separate rooms despite being married, but I didn't ask, fearing I might appear nosy.

I was left alone in a masculine-looking room. The walls were a blend of black and white, with a computer setup and a small sofa. It had its own bathroom, and by the entrance stood a wardrobe, a small chair, and a table. The furnishings were nearly complete and much larger than those at Mom's house.

My thoughts turned to Mom, and I immediately reached into my pocket for my phone, dialing her number from speed dial.

"Hi, Mom. You answered, which means you've arrived in the U.S.," I greeted her. Instead of responding, she hung up and texted, 'Let's video call using Messenger so I can see you.'

I quickly set up the computer in my room and logged into f*******:. Mom was already calling.

We talked, catching up and sharing stories, even discussing my first encounter with Tita and Cheska. Mom stressed the importance of respect in Dad's family, particularly for Grandpa, emphasizing how every moment mattered to them.

People often assume the wealthy live carefree lives, waking up late, eating whenever they want, and spending recklessly. In reality, the affluent are stringent with time, money, and manners.

Despite our physical distance, I felt close to Mom as we shared stories and conversed. She tucked me in early, ensuring I wouldn't be hungry for breakfast the next day, as she said I had a long day ahead.