Claimed By The Billionaire Ceo

Ariana’s POV I stand in the restaurant, and I realize it’s already evening. The place is buzzing louder than usual tonight, voices overlapping, trays clattering, chairs scraping, and that familiar aroma of crispy fried chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and warm dinner rolls drifting through the air. Our restaurant isn’t the biggest in the area, but everyone knows it for its delicacies. People come here for comfort, for meals that remind them of home, for dishes that make them forget the day. Meanwhile, I’m just standing here, stuck, zoning out, lost in my thoughts even though the world around me is spinning fast. “Miss? Miss?” A man from the line calls for my attention. I don’t hear him. Or maybe I hear him but my brain doesn’t register it. I’m too busy tapping my foot anxiously on the floor, a habit that slips out whenever my mind drifts. I don’t even notice I’m doing it. Blair, my ever-watchful co-worker, notices. Of course she does. We met in college, and since then, we’ve been glued. “You might want to stop that habit of yours now, Ana,” she snaps playfully from the next counter. Her voice jolts me so sharply I jerk backward a little. My eyes snap open. I blink hard, grounding myself back into reality. I turn slowly toward her, my long brown hair shifting over my back with the movement. A small, embarrassed chuckle escapes me. “So… sorry, Blair. You know me too well.” Then she gestures to the man, saving me from embarrassment. “Over here, sir! I’ll attend to you.” The young man Blair had attended to now stands in front of me for a moment, just staring—too long, too silent. I blink, confused. “Um… do you need anything else, sir?” I ask gently. He doesn’t answer. He just gives me a warm, polite smile, nothing awkward, just lingering. Then he turns to leave. I pause, brows furrowing. “Strange,” I mutter under my breath. Instinctively, I touch my cheek, then my hair, then my lips. Do I have something on my face? I shift closer to Blair’s counter to grab a napkin, and she takes the opportunity to nudge me with her elbow. “You have a way of catching people’s attention without doing too much, even back then in college. They better back off—you’re—” “Married,” I cut in quickly, chuckling as I step even closer to Blair’s counter. I take her hand gently, rubbing it between my palms. “Remember what day today is?” She squints, thinking, scratching her head like she’s searching through an empty drawer. I smirk and let her hand drop. “It’s my wedding anniversary today. And I need to get home and prepare to welcome my husband tonight. He’s been away on a business trip, and the food, everything needs—” I blow out air dramatically, pouting my lips in a silent plea. “Can you make up an excuse for me tonight?” Blair rolls her eyes so hard I hear the frustration in her exhale. “Fine. You owe me one, girl.” I grin, eyes sparkling. “Thank you! Bye, Blair!” Then I’m out, dashing from the canteen like my shoes are on fire. My hair bounces behind me as I sprint off the sidewalk and hop into the nearest cab. The moment I jump out and land in front of my house, I breathe out. “Thank goodness the house isn’t far from work,” I mutter, as I reach for my bag, fumbling for my keys, only to find the door is already unlocked. Confused, I push it open and step inside, and the moment I do, everything in me comes to a full, hard stop. Candles. Soft, warm candles lined through the hallway, flickering gently against the walls. The house looks romantic. Thoughtful. My heart leaps. I think Nicholas must have come home early. Maybe he wanted to surprise me. I smile, a giddy warmth filling my chest. But then a voice. A familiar voice humming. I take three steps forward and freeze completely. Clara is in my dining room. My sister. Shh stands beside the dining table, arranging plates and adjusting the centerpiece, humming as if she owns the place, as if she’s been here all day. My heart stutters. My stomach twists. My mind tries to catch up but fails spectacularly. How is she here? Why today? Why my anniversary dinner? What is she doing in my house? I don’t move. I don’t blink. I’m stuck in the doorway, breath caught between my lips. Clara turns around suddenly and beams when she sees me. “You’re back,” she says with a giggle as she walks toward me, completely unbothered, completely at ease. I still can’t speak. Then she says the words, a soft smile curling on her face, that drag something sharp and heavy straight out of me: “Don’t stress. I already planned your anniversary evening for you and your husband.” My heart drops. My mind screams. Inside me, the voice bursts out, loud, shocked, disbelieving: What?!