Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Meet Your Son

making her shiver violently. She leaned against the side of her 2014 Toyota Camry, tucking her hands deep into her pockets, trying to preserv

acked, a spiderweb fracture over the tim

es lingered on the dent in the rear bumper and the fading paint. He didn't

et wipes, desperate to remove the sticky residue of spilled apple juice and the faint, lingering sce

stream G650 descended from the grey sky, sleek and silver, a predator returning to its territory. The

tic. A useless attempt to look like Mrs. Julian Sterl

wered with a

er ribs, a frantic, uneven rhythm. Seven years. It

Julian who ste

ooked like it had never seen a speck of dust. Her blonde hai

turning back with a smile that could m

n he ap

Practiced. He guided her down the first few steps, his b

t wasn't a sharp pain. It was a dull,

nd lifted his head. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, scanned the area. They by

cked on

touch. Cold. Assessing. There was no smile. No widening of the eyes. He looke

rs of her mouth up. It

and sweet. She waved, the diamond bracelet on her

Hard-shell cases. There were four of them. Elara glanced at her trunk. It

istance. He stopped three feet away. He didn't hug her. He did

His voice was deeper tha

said. Her voice wavered. She ha

hand, cutt

her arm through his. The fabric of her expensive coat brushed aga

been pushed onto the board of Nebula by the other shareholders, a strategic move to undercut

it," Julian said, lo

erena suggested. "My

n said. "We

Jul

, Serena." It w

yed on her lips. She walked to the passenger side-the front passenger side

hat was her seat. Tha

e didn't move to open h

. She got in, the smell of harsh chemical cleaner inst

he cramped back seat. His knees pressed against the back of her s

ne sputtered once, twice, be

, Julian's eyes met he

e," h

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