The Billionaire's Child

The morning light seeped softly through the curtains as I stirred awake to the familiar sound of Liam’s small footsteps padding across the floor. It was just past seven, and the house was alive with the quiet buzz of a weekday beginning. I stretched, the edges of sleep still clinging to me, and then nudged Liam gently. “Time to get up, buddy,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Downstairs, I brewed a strong cup of coffee while Liam scrambled into his favorite dinosaur pajamas. The kitchen smelled like fresh toast and anticipation. As I packed his little backpack, he chatteringly reminded me about the toy cars he wanted to take to Sarah’s house. Our friend Sarah had kindly agreed to look after Liam during the day so I could work without worry. Outside, the air was cool but hopeful, spring's crispness wrapped in sunlight. We walked hand in hand to Sarah’s house just around the corner. Liam’s face lit up the moment he saw her, and I felt the knot in my chest ease. After a quick hug and promises to call later, I turned toward my own day, the weight of responsibility balanced by the warmth of friendship and the little hand I’d held this morning. I bid them a good bye before flagging a cab to work