My lovely billionaire

CHAPTER6

Kathryn stepped out of the car, the weight of the evening still pressing heavily on her shoulders. The event had left her feeling more like a bystander in her own life, a role she was growing increasingly tired of playing. James, ever the efficient assistant, smiled at her as he opened the door. "Goodnight, Mrs. Ambrose. Rest well."

"Goodnight, James," she replied softly, offering a weak smile.

She made her way inside the house, the silence almost oppressive after the hustle and bustle of the event. The grand foyer, so beautiful earlier in the day, now seemed empty and cold. She paused for a moment, her thoughts drifting to Richard. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment, if he was as distant in private as he had been all evening.

Her mind was foggy, tired, and longing for something—anything—that would break through the emotional weight. She walked through the quiet hallways, her footsteps echoing in the stillness.

“Carla?” I called softly as I looked for the maid, but the house seemed strangely deserted.

The house felt too quiet, too empty. I couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy, the uncertainty of everything around me gnawing at me.

Then, a loud crash echoed through the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of something being knocked over. My heart skipped a beat. I froze for a moment, the initial rush of fear freezing me in place. But after a few seconds, I shook off the hesitation and decided to investigate.

The noise was coming from the kitchen.

My footsteps were hesitant as I walked toward the kitchen, my mind racing with what I might find. As I turned the corner into the kitchen, I stopped short. Wrappers of chocolate were scattered across the floor, the telltale signs of something—someone—having snuck a treat in the dead of night.

My gaze shifted toward the open refrigerator. A chill ran through me as I took another step forward, my heart now pounding in my chest.

Inside the fridge, a small figure stood, her back to me. She was holding a jar of peanut butter, carefully spreading it onto a piece of bread.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the sight. The child was tiny, no more than five or six, with dark, messy hair and a face that could have been chiseled from porcelain. My heart softened in an instant. She was the cutest thing I had ever seen.

But then, as my gaze lingered on the child, something struck me. The girl... she looked so much like Richard. It wasn’t just a passing resemblance; it was uncanny. The same dark eyes, the same high cheekbones, the same sharp jawline.

My thoughts began to race. Richard’s rumors. The ones about his past—rumors of affairs, of children scattered across the country. At first, I had dismissed them, convinced they were nothing more than malicious gossip, a product of the media’s thirst for scandal. But now, standing in front of this child, I couldn’t ignore the possibility that they might be true.

I was so lost in her thoughts that I almost didn’t hear the child’s small, tentative voice.

“I’m sorry,” the girl said, her voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t mean to be in here. I couldn’t find anyone, and I was hungry, so I just... I just made a sandwich.”

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. I crouched down to the girl’s level, offering a kind smile. “It’s okay,” I said gently. “You’re not in trouble.”

The child, still a little unsure, glanced at me with those wide, innocent eyes. “My name’s Daisy,” she said quietly, her voice so soft it almost sounded like a secret.

“Well, Daisy, how about we get you something else to eat?” I suggested. “I’m sure you’re still hungry.”

Daisy nodded enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up.

I smiled, feeling a small wave of warmth in my chest. I led the little girl out of the kitchen and toward the dining area, where I quickly prepared a bowl of cereal. “This should be better than a sandwich, don’t you think?” I said playfully as I handed it to Daisy, who nodded excitedly.

Together, we made our way upstairs to my room. Once inside, I set the bowl down on the bedside table, and Daisy climbed onto the bed, looking around in awe at the room's soft, elegant decor.

“So, Daisy,” I began as she sat beside the little girl. “How old are you?”

“I’m six,” Daisy replied with a proud smile, her small legs dangling from the edge of the bed.

“Six,” I repeated thoughtfully. “That’s a very big age.” I watched as Daisy dug into her cereal, the innocence in her movements soothing.

After a moment, I decided to turn on the TV, finding the remote on the bedside table. I flicked through the channels until I found a movie, something light-hearted. “How about Moana?” I suggested with a soft chuckle.

Daisy's eyes brightened, and she nodded eagerly. “I love Moana!”

I settled back against the pillows, and as the movie started, Daisy curled up next to me, her small body leaning into my side.

It wasn’t long before the sound of the movie filled the room, and Daisy, tired from the day, drifted off to sleep, her head resting gently on my arm. I looked down at the little girl, my heart swelling with a strange sense of relief.

For the first time in days, I felt at peace, as if everything had momentarily slowed down, as if the chaos of my thoughts had been quieted by the simplicity of the moment.

I shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Daisy, and closed my eyes. I had no answers about the child, or about Richard. But for tonight, none of that seemed important.

With Daisy in my arms, nestled comfortably beside me, I allowed myself to relax. I let go of the complicated feelings swirling inside me, drifting into a much-needed sleep, the weight of my worries forgotten, even if just for a moment.