The Billionaires Secret Marriage

Chapter 4

Henry

“I don’t know,” I reply, my voice low and distant.

“Come on, Henry,” Philemon says, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “Give me something better than that.”

I sigh and close my eyes. The noise of the bar swirls around me glasses clinking, a burst of laughter from a nearby booth, the hum of music playing just loud enough to vibrate through my chest. It feels like it’s all pressing in on me. When I open my eyes, I meet Phil’s steady gaze.

“Phil,” I say, my voice steady but edged with frustration, “I just found her a few hours ago. My mind is reeling enough without trying to plan my next steps. Especially since she… she didn’t seem to know me.”

Ernest nods, swirling the beer in his glass like he’s considering his words carefully. “You know,” he says, finally looking up at me, “when it comes to other people, you always know what to do. But when it comes to yourself? You’re just as lost as the rest of us.”

“Find her!” Phil interjects, his voice a little too loud, drawing a glance from a nearby booth. He ignores it, leaning back in his seat. “That’s the first thing you’ve got to do now that she’s near. Were you even looking for her in the first place?”

I roll my eyes at him, the way I used to when we were in college and he was being particularly obtuse. “Of course I was.”

Phil shrugs and smirks, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Had to ask. I mean, I realized tonight that maybe I don’t know as much about you as I thought I did.”

I take a slow sip of my beer, letting the weight of his words settle. “It was a secret wedding,” I admit quietly, my voice just loud enough for them to hear over the bar’s din. “During our last year of college.”

“Ah, so that’s when you smiled the brightest,” Ernest says, leaning back in his seat with a knowing grin.

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Nattie,” he says simply. “She’s always been saying your smile’s been different since college, but I thought she was just being extra.” He pauses, then adds, “Wait… she actually met her, didn’t she?”

I nod slowly.

“You mean Nattie knows?” Ernest’s tone is accusatory, his voice rising slightly.

“No, she doesn’t know about the marriage,” I say, shaking my head. “I just introduced her to Ashley once. Ashley was getting jealous of the time I was spending with Nattie.”

“Was that why she left?” Ernest asks hesitantly, his words laced with a kind of fear like he’s bracing for a blow.

“No.” I pause, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the table. “And yes. She left thinking I was cheating because I gave my apartment keys to Adrian.”

At the mention of Adrian, both Ernest and Phil groan in unison, their heads shaking in mutual understanding.

“Yeah,” I say, a wry smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “That guy was and still is always having the time of his life. Letting him borrow the keys wasn’t unusual, but I didn’t expect him to completely ignore me when I told him not to bring girls into my apartment.”

“You didn’t explain the situation to her?” Ernest asks, his voice quiet, almost disbelieving.

“Of course I did,” I say sharply. “But she wasn’t willing to listen. She just walked out and I let her go, thinking she’d calm down and come back after a day or two like she always did.”

“Except that didn’t happen,” Phil says, his tone flat.

I nod, my hands tightening around my empty glass. The weight of the memory feels heavier than the glass itself.

Phil studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure she’s not pretending she doesn’t remember you?”

I shake my head. “I thought about that too,” I admit, leaning back and letting my hands drop into my lap. “But no… I don’t think she’s pretending. Her reaction felt… real. Confused. Not calculated.”

Phil tilts his head, his curiosity unrelenting. “So, how exactly have you been looking for her all this time?”

“I have a personal investigator,” I say evenly, “and a team set aside just for this.”

“And yet,” Phil says, his tone teasing but with an edge to it, “the best person in the field of IT, who also happens to be your friend, isn’t on that team. Why is that, exactly?”

I huff out a laugh, the first genuine one in hours, though it comes out more like a sigh. “You’re seriously asking that?”

Phil grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Damn right, I’m asking.”

Phil’s grin fades as he taps the edge of his glass, his eyes scanning my face like he’s trying to figure out what I’m hiding. Ernest, always the quieter one, leans back in his seat, his arms crossed, but I can feel the weight of his stare too.

“You know,” Phil says, breaking the silence, “for someone who had a team set aside for six years, you seem awfully unprepared now that she’s here.”

His words sting, but I don’t show it. I take a slow sip of water. The beer isn’t helping anymore and set the glass down carefully, buying time.

“I wasn’t prepared because I didn’t think this would actually happen,” I admit finally, my voice lower than before. How was I to know she wouldn't remember me? “I thought… I thought if I ever saw her again, I’d have time to plan. Apologize or something. I thought I'd have time to figure out what to say. But it’s like the universe decided to drop her in front of me and say, ‘Good luck.’”

Ernest leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, what are you going to do now? You can’t just wait for another six years.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

Phil raises an eyebrow. “You need a plan. Like yesterday.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still sitting here?”

I shoot him a look, the kind that would have shut him up years ago, but Phil doesn’t back down. After his wife and son disappeared he's been more supportive but sharper with his words. He just leans in closer, his voice dropping to something almost kind. Almost.

“Look, man. I’m saying this because I know you. You’re going to overthink this until you convince yourself to do nothing. But that’s not an option anymore. You’ve spent years burying yourself in work, pretending you’re fine. Well, guess what? She’s back. And she has kids, Henry. Your kids.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut. My children. I’ve been trying not to think about that too hard because every time I do, it feels like my chest might crack open. I have children I didn't know existed.

“Easy, Phil,” Ernest says quietly, though his eyes are on me. He knows Phil’s right, even if he won’t say it outright.

Phil leans back, shaking his head. “I’m not trying to be harsh. But come on, Henry. You can’t afford to screw this up.” I think he's talking to himself through me but I can't seem to let his tone go.

I grip the edge of the table, my knuckles whitening. “Do you think I don’t know that?” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. A few heads turn, but I ignore them, focusing on the two people who’ve known me long enough to understand what I’m not saying.

The silence stretches between us, heavy and uncomfortable.

Finally, Ernest breaks it. “Then let’s make a plan.”

I look at him, startled.

He shrugs. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re here. We’ll figure it out together. You were there for me so many times man.”

Phil nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. First step? Find out everything you can about her life now. Where she lives, where she goes, what she’s like now. Subtle, though. Don’t freak her out. I will help with the digital font”

“And the twins,” Ernest adds. “You need to get to know them. Slowly. No rushing in and saying, ‘Hey, I’m your dad.’ That’s a recipe for disaster. ”

“Right,” Phil says. “Start small. Be someone they trust before you try to be someone they love.”

I stare at them, the lump in my throat growing bigger by the second. “You guys are serious about this. I mean helping me.”

“Of course we are,” Ernest says simply.

Phil grins. “You’re stuck with us, man. Whether you like it or not.”

The knot in my chest loosens just enough for me to breathe a little easier. For the first time in hours, maybe even years, I don’t feel so completely alone.

“Alright,” I say, my voice steadier now. “Let’s make a plan.”

Phil raises his glass. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Ernest clinks his glass against Phil’s, then looks at me expectantly. I pick up my water and tap it against theirs, the sound small but solid, like the first step of something that might actually hold.