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The Billionaire's Husband

The Billionaire's Husband

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Chapter 1 01

Word Count: 1314    |    Released on: 23/04/2025

nder'

htmare and that mere seconds from now I would wake up. But every time I blinked my eyes, everything was still the same. The cold air, the

as g

from the ground up, who carried the weig

ed toward our direction like we were some kind of attraction. And I knew today every medi

ho recently passed away due to cardiac arrest. Peter's million-dollar company, as

's how the

was. Just numbers and titles. J

glad she had a shoulder to cry on. God knows she needed it. I did too. But I guess I was bett

and instantly, she turned t

We will be alright," I whispered t

pered, and the sound of her so

I miss

to live my life knowing I would

py. He was always a busy man. Too cramped up in his job as he led a real estate company, and yet he always made

n, and I am nothing but grateful for how he did it. He never remarried, never even dated again-not that we knew of. It

n't know what to do with wha

ollowing years working under him. Learning the dos and don'ts, understanding t

One minute I was walking out of a meeting, and the next, I got a call from my father's secretary saying

goodbye to him when he was still alive is

ou, Dad.

d the final words of the service. I didn't even notice when the crowd started to disperse

kay?" she asked me, he

"Eventua

ll, sad smile.

, but it was a lie we nee

the company. They all had the same look of pity and polished condolences. "Your fa

to a single, meaning

with that man. He was the one who taught me how to ride a bike, how to tie a tie,

good distance away, but I caught his glance in the rearview mirror. Even he looked

nce was heavy. I leaned my head back and closed my

a wee

ow proud he was of me

mazing things, Alex,"

m he was getting sent

k and said, "I'

be our last conversation. I

ooked the same, but without him in it, it felt

the door. His coat on the hook. His favorite mug in the

boyfriend followed a few minutes late

armchair Da

nce was

olidays. Every Christmas, he'd insist on wearing that ugly red s

e something that belong

ched it. My phone buzzed with new emails, probab

n't a

ny right now. McKinley Inns was his dream, his b

d to fill his shoes? How was I supposed to keep it al

ten by Dad and sealed in an envelope. I hadn't opened it yet. I

than I thought possible. And I didn't

, I would h

Katie. For

my

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