Reclaimed By The Billionaire

5

(Yasmine’s POV)

The morning started like any other.

I woke up before dawn, exhaustion pressing against my bones, yet my mind already racing through the day’s schedule. The kids had school, I had work, and somewhere in between, I had to figure out how to stretch our budget far enough to cover rent and groceries.

With a deep breath, I pushed aside the creeping weight of responsibility and stepped into the twins’ small bedroom. The sight of their peaceful faces, Danny sprawled across his bed with one leg hanging off the side while Lilly clutched her stuffed bunny tightly, made my chest ache with something warm and fragile.

"Rise and shine, troublemakers," I said softly, nudging Danny’s shoulder.

He groaned dramatically, burying his face into the pillow. "Five more minutes."

"You said that yesterday," I reminded him, walking over to Lilly, who was already blinking up at me with sleepy curiosity.

"I wasn’t done dreaming," Danny mumbled.

"You can dream in the car. Let’s go."

After the usual morning chaos of missing socks, stubborn curls that refused to be tamed, and a last-minute search for Danny’s homework, we were finally out the door.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp pavement from last night’s rain, and I found myself shivering as I walked the twins to the car. There was a strange feeling in my chest, something I couldn’t quite place.

A heaviness.

A warning.

I glanced around the quiet street, the unease settling deep in my stomach. Something felt wrong.

Shaking off the thought, I helped the kids into their seats, reminding myself that I was just tired. Overworked. Stressed. That was all.

I pulled out of the driveway, forcing myself to focus on the road, on the sound of Danny chattering about dinosaurs, on Lilly’s quiet humming as she stared out the window.

Everything was fine.

By the time we arrived at school, the unease had dulled, pushed back into the corner of my mind where I stored all the things I didn’t have time to deal with.

As I parked, Danny was already unbuckling himself, practically bouncing in excitement. "Can we have ice cream after school?"

Lilly, always the voice of reason, folded her arms. "Mommy didn’t say yes."

"But she didn’t say no either!" Danny shot back.

I sighed, amused despite myself. "We’ll see how the day goes."

Danny beamed in triumph while Lilly just gave me a knowing look—she already knew I had a hard time saying no to them.

Just as I leaned down to kiss them goodbye, Lilly suddenly hesitated, studying my face with an intensity that made my throat tighten.

"Mommy," she said quietly, "are you okay?"

My breath caught.

She always knew when something was off, always saw the cracks no matter how hard I tried to hide them.

"I’m fine, baby," I murmured, brushing her curls back.

It wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.

But it wasn’t the truth either.

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded, slipping her tiny hand into Danny’s as they walked toward the school entrance.

I stayed there for a moment, watching them disappear inside, my heart twisting.

Then, with a deep breath, I turned away and headed to work.

The café was already filling up when I arrived, the scent of espresso and fresh pastries mingling with the hum of early morning chatter. It was familiar, predictable, and I welcomed the mindless routine that allowed me to keep my thoughts from drifting where they didn’t belong.

I moved behind the counter, tying my apron and greeting the regulars as I wiped down the espresso machine. It was just another morning.

And then the bell above the door chimed.

I didn’t look up.

Didn’t even flinch.

Customers came and went all day—I had no reason to care.

"Yasmine," my boss called. "Table ten—VIP section."

I stifled a sigh, grabbing my notepad and weaving through the tables toward the private seating area. The café rarely had VIP guests, but when we did, it usually meant someone important wanted privacy—businessmen, celebrities, people who thought themselves above the rest of the world.

I had no patience for people like that.

Reaching the table, I pulled out my pen, not bothering to glance at the customers as I flipped open my notepad. "Good morning. What can I get for you?"

The woman spoke first. Her voice was smooth, practiced, the kind of tone that belonged to people who were used to giving orders. "Espresso. No sugar."

I nodded, scribbling it down. "And for you, sir?"

Silence.

The pause was long enough to feel unnatural.

My brows furrowed slightly as I shifted my gaze toward the second customer, not yet looking at his face, but sensing the sudden tension in his body.

He was stiff. Unmoving.

Like something had unsettled him.

Like something—or someone—had caught him off guard.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes.

And everything stopped.

The world, the noise, the steady rhythm of my breathing—all of it ceased to exist.

Because the man sitting across from her…

Was Leo.

My stomach lurched.

It was impossible.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near me.

Seven years. Seven years, and I had convinced myself that he was just a ghost of the past, a nightmare I had long since escaped.

But he was real.

Real, and sitting right in front of me.

And staring at me like he had just seen a ghost.

I forced my fingers to grip the notepad tighter, forced my body to keep moving, keep breathing.

Leo’s expression was unreadable, but his dark eyes held something dangerous—a flicker of recognition, of disbelief.

I refused to acknowledge it.

"Right," I said smoothly, voice carefully neutral. "One espresso. And for the gentleman?"

The woman blinked at Leo, then at me, a slight frown tugging at her lips before she turned back to him. When he didn’t respond, she gave a small sigh. "Black coffee. No sugar."

Leo still hadn’t spoken, or even looked away.

But I pretended I didn’t notice.

I jotted down the order, turned on my heel, and walked away.

My heart was pounding, my hands trembling slightly as I reached the counter, but I forced myself to act unaffected.

Because that’s what this was.

Just a moment.

Just a coincidence.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t matter.

He was still the same man. The same liar. The same w***e.

And I hated him even more.

But as I turned slightly, catching the way he was still watching me from across the café, I knew one thing for certain.

Leo Gray was the ominous warning from the heavens, signaling that my past was catching up to me.