The Billionaire And His One Night Stand

Los Angeles, Sebastian

I sat in the conference room, my attention divided between the sketches our architect had presented and the myriad of thoughts swirling through my mind. The meeting had been one in a long series of endless appointments and discussions, all related to business matters and the architectural details of our latest project. My role as the head of a successful company demanded constant dedication and an unending stream of meetings.

As the architect continued his presentation, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of exhaustion settling over me. The room was filled with the soft hum of voices, the sound of pens scratching against paper, and the occasional clicking of laptops. My assistant, a sharp and efficient woman, hovered nearby, ready to assist with any requests.

Suddenly, she appeared at the door and whispered, “Mr. Thornton, your mother is in the lobby.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion. What was my mother doing here, unannounced and during a crucial meeting? My mother had always been a source of stress in my life, orchestrating everything from my marriage to my future divorce and attempting to arrange another ill-fated union.

I turned to the architect and stopped his presentation with a raised hand. “I apologize, we’ll need to pause for a moment,” I said, my voice carrying a touch of irritation. “Take a break, get some fresh air, and perhaps a snack while I see what my mother needs.” I left the conference room, my mind grappling with the perplexing presence of my mother.

In the lobby, I found her standing there, her presence immediately grating on my nerves. She was accompanied by Amanda, a woman who she has been trying to thrust into my life against my wishes. Amanda stood quietly beside my mother, her demeanor a mix of shyness and unease.

“Mother. Amanda,” I greeted them tersely. I had no desire for this impromptu visit, and my mother’s track record of interfering in my personal life only fueled my apprehension.

“I’ve been to lunch with Amanda,” my mother announced, her tone falsely cheerful, “and I thought to drop by and show her where her future husband works.”

I couldn’t help but groan inwardly. My mother’s relentless determination to dictate the course of my life had already caused too much turmoil. She had forced me into marriage with Mia, then pushed for a divorce immediately after the birth of our child, insisting I marry Amanda instead.

“Mother,” I began, my patience wearing thin, “let’s not start this here. I’m in the middle of an important meeting.”

My mother, unfazed, simply waved off my concerns. “Ah, Sebastian, surely you can make some free time for your future wife,” she chided, her words dripping with thinly veiled expectations.

My frustration bubbled to the surface, and I responded with an edge to my voice. “Mother, please don’t put false ideas in her head. She’s never going to be my wife. My wife is Mia.”

My mother’s eyes narrowed with disapproval, and she scoffed in response. “That sinner? That… that devil?” Her tone grew increasingly incensed. “She has poisoned you, can’t you see?”

I gritted my teeth, trying to maintain my composure. My mother’s disparaging words about Mia had been a constant presence in our tumultuous relationship. “Just… just leave,” I told her, my patience finally reaching its limit.

My mother stared at me, a mixture of anger and disappointment in her eyes. Amanda, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, seemed to sense the tension in the room. Without a word, I gestured the guard to escort them out. I returned to the conference room, a sense of frustration and helplessness lingering, knowing that my mother’s interference would continue to cast a shadow over my life and the choices I made.

The meeting continued, but my thoughts drifted away from the architect’s presentation. I couldn’t help but dwell on the unexpected visit from my mother and Amanda. I hadn’t shared the details with Mia, nor had I wanted to, and I had even asked Sophia to keep this latest encounter a secret from her as well.

The reason behind my silence was simple: Mia was pregnant. We were already navigating the complexities of our relationship, the challenges of parenthood, and the impending birth of our child. The last thing I wanted was to add more stress to Mia’s plate. Stress was known to have detrimental effects on both mother and baby, and I was determined to shield her from any additional burdens.Exclusive content © by Nô(v)el/Dr/ama.Org.

As I sat in the meeting, my mind continuously drifted back to Mia. I was eager to see her, to hold her, and to share in the joy and anticipation of welcoming our child into the world. With each passing day, my fatherly instincts seemed to grow stronger, a deep sense of responsibility and love taking root within me.

Just as I began to lose myself in thoughts of Mia and our unborn child, the door to the conference room burst open once more. I couldn’t help but groan inwardly. The interruptions were becoming increasingly frustrating, and I longed for a moment of respite.

My assistant rushed toward me, her expression filled with urgency. “Mr. Thornton,” she began, and I could sense that something was amiss. “This is urgent.”

My patience was wearing thin, and I couldn’t contain my frustration any longer. “Tell my mother to get out of this building before I call the cops on her!” I snapped, my voice filled with exasperation. I had hoped that the message would be clear, that my mother would understand the boundaries I was trying to establish.

However, my assistant’s face revealed a different emotion entirely. She looked at me with a mix of concern and sympathy. “It’s not your mother, Mr. Thornton. It’s your wife. She’s in the hospital.”

The weight of her words hit me like a sledgehammer. My anger and irritation dissipated instantly, replaced by a profound sense of alarm and fear. My heart raced as I processed the news. Mia was in the hospital. My mind whirled with a thousand questions, all directed toward the well-being of my beloved wife and our unborn child.

Without hesitation, I stood up from the conference table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. The room fell into a hushed silence as I made my way to the door. My assistant followed me, her expression filled with empathy and understanding.

“Prepare the plane for me. Now!”