Four Secret Babies - A Second Chance Billionaire Romance (San Bravado Billionaires' Club Book 7)

by Layla Valentine

  But now that I’m gone, that time has passed. As Roy has already likely informed you, the home is yours, along with all that I own. I’ve put my finances in order to ensure that the upkeep and taxes will be paid for. But the house won’t go into your name for decades—no selling and living off of the remains of the estate. And the apartment in New York has been paid for, free and clear, the bills taken care of for the remainder of the year.

  Other than that, I’m dividing my money between the charities that I’ve set up over the years.

  Yes, you read that correctly—you won’t be receiving a dime.

  Now, knowing you, your reaction to this might be anger, or frustration, or incredulity. I hope that you’ve reached a level of maturity in which this is not the case. Because the reason that I’m not leaving you a dollar of my money is not out of bitterness or spite, but because I know it’s the only way that you’ll be able to make your way in the world.

  Jordan, I know that you have it in you to become something great, to make your mark, to be a force of good. And I know that if you have the comfort of my fortunes to fall back on, you might not put in the work to become that man.

  So, for my last will and testament, I wanted to give you that chance. I know you have it in you, Jordan. I know that you can become something incredible.

  Love always,

  Dad

  Unsure what to think, I set the letter down on the desk and stared off into space for several moments. Finally, Roy broke the silence.

  “Kid, I tried to talk him out of it,” he said. “I told him not to be so drastic. Maybe put some money in a trust or something that you can’t access for a few years. But you know your father—he was insistent.”

  But I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t frustrated.

  “It’s okay, Roy,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s…fine.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy raise his brow.

  “You’re serious?” he asked. “I mean, you get the house, but man…if my dad had told me that he wasn’t leaving me a dime, I would’ve blown my damn top.”

  Blowing my top was the last thing I felt like doing. A strange calm had come over me, one that caused me to put aside any sort of childish frustration at not getting what I wanted.

  “It’s totally fine,” I repeated, now through a smile.

  “You sure, kid?” he asked. “You’re not gonna go all rock star on this study the second I leave, are you?”

  I turned and gave him a warm smile.

  “Nope,” I said. “Maybe younger-me would’ve, but now…I don’t think so. What my dad said in the letter makes perfect sense.”

  “Good,” he said, his tone still somewhat dubious. “Good, good.”

  “Is there anything else?” I asked.

  “Just some things I need you to sign, but nothing all that important. I’ll get everything taken care of with the house and all that. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Thanks, Roy,” I said, my tone warm. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a little while.”

  “Of course, of course,” said Roy, hurriedly gathering his things.

  I could tell that part of him still thought that he was witnessing the calm before the storm.

  “See you, kid,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  I bid him goodbye, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

  Now that Roy was gone, the only sound that remained in the room was the slow ticking of the antique grandfather clock, the one I’d been forbidden to touch all throughout my childhood.

  I stood up from the desk and took my place in front of the window, my hands clasped behind my back in the same way my father would always stand. The words of the letter ran through my mind, spoken in my father’s voice.

  As I looked out over the vast expanse of property in front of me, the green stretch of the lawn terminating out in the sands of the shore and the ocean past that, I made a vow. I swore in that moment to change my ways, to become the man my father knew I could be.

  It was going to be hard; it was going to take work. And it was going to require more than I’d ever given anything in my life, but I was going to do it.

  And nothing was going to stand in my way.

  Chapter 20

  Chloe

  “You sure you’re ready to do this?” Amy asked as we loaded the last of my things into the moving van.

  “It’s not a matter of wanting to do it,” I said. “It’s a matter of having to. I’m going to give birth to four babies in a few months, and as much as I love our apartment and living with you, I need something bigger.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, stepping back and sweeping her eyes over the moving van. “Maybe we could work something out.”

  I let out a bright laugh. “Like what?” I asked. “Two of the babies could stay in my room, two could stay in yours?”

  Amy chuckled. “I know, it’s silly,” she said. “But I want to do something to help.”

  “You’ve helped me get my stuff moved,” I said. “Well, you and the movers. That’s more than enough.”

  “Not good enough for me,” she said. “You’re about to be a single mom. You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  She was right about that. I still had no idea how I was going to take care of four kids all by myself. Sure, I had Amy and Isabella and my parents, but I was only comfortable relying on them so much. The rest was going to be up to me.

  I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but that didn’t matter. I had to be.

  “Hey, miss?” one of the movers called out. “You ready to get going?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “One second.”

  I threw open my arms and pulled Amy into a tight hug.

  “I’ll miss you, lady,” she said.

  “You too,” I said. “Come visit me anytime.”

  After our goodbyes I hopped into my car, the back seat packed with a few valuables that I didn’t want anyone else touching, and we were off. About twenty minutes later we arrived at the small, three-bedroom house on the outskirts of town. The rent was expensive and was going to be chewing through all of my savings and termination pay within a few months if I didn’t find some source of income, but I had to make the move. I wanted to be ready when the kids arrived.

  The movers went right to work, filling the place with the little bit of furniture I owned. After an hour or so, they were done. When they left, it was just me alone in that house, and I wondered what I’d gotten myself into.

  Fear dawned on me in the silence. I was alone, unemployed, and only had a few more months of money left. I climbed onto my couch and curled up into a tight ball, my mind racing with stress.

  Sure, I could try to find a new restaurant job; maybe Isabella would even give me back my old gig at the Westchester. That would solve my money problems for a few months, but what would happen in the later stages of my pregnancy? How the hell could I be expected to work with a belly full of four kids, to say nothing of what I would do after they arrived?

  Jordan.

  He popped into my head, the way he often did, his handsome face plastered with that same cocky smile. I could call him, tell him everything. He’d just inherited his father’s estate, and he’d easily be able to provide for the kids.

  I hated the idea of doing it, but I had no idea what else to do.

  Before I could give the matter any more thought, a knock sounded on my front door. I was curious who it could be. No one other than Amy and my parents had the address, and I wasn’t expecting any of them.

  I figured it had to be one of the movers with something that they’d forgotten in the back of the van. But when I opened the door, it wasn’t one of the burly college guys who’d helped me. Instead, it was a heavyset man in a brown suit and with silver hair, an expensive leather bag in his hand.

  “Um, hi?” I said. “Do you…have the wrong address?”

  “I hope not,” he said. “Are you Chloe Sanderson?”

  “I am,” I s
aid. “May I ask who you are?”

  “Oh, great,” he said with no small amount of relief in his voice. “I’m Roy Silver.”

  He stuck out his hand. I took it, and he responded with a vigorous shake.

  “I’m Alfred King’s lawyer, and the executor of his estate.”

  “Oh!” I said, surprised. “I already got my final payment from the cooking job if that is what this is about.”

  “Not what this is about,” he said. “Do you mind if I come in? I have a very important matter that I want to discuss with you.”

  “Sure,” I said, standing aside and letting him enter. “Sorry about all the…empty space. I literally moved in ten minutes ago.”

  “I heard,” he said warmly. “I tried to catch you at your old place, but your roommate told me I could find you here.”

  I led him to the small kitchen table, and he slid into a seat. Once seated, he slipped a slim, silver laptop out from his bag and turned it on.

  “Something to drink?” I asked. “Everything’s still in boxes, but I can get some coffee going if you’d like.”

  “Sure, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Gotta get all of this stuff unpacked at some point.”

  I opened one of the boxes containing my kitchen things and fished out the coffeemaker, along with the filters, coffee, and a pair of mugs. Once everything was set up in my otherwise bare kitchen, I set the coffee to brew.

  “I still can’t believe the news about Alfred,” I said, shaking my head. “It seemed like he was in such good health.”

  “It took us all by surprise,” said Roy. “But that’s the nature of strokes, I suppose.”

  The sounds of the percolating coffee maker filled the room, along with the scent of freshly brewing coffee. Roy’s eyes were fixed on the computer in front of him, and as he tapped at keys here and there, I found myself wondering what this was all about. What could the executor of Alfred’s estate possibly want with me?

  “The ceremony was lovely,” I said. “It was wonderful to see so many people show up to pay their respects.”

  “He was beloved in the community,” said Roy. “He’s going to be missed.”

  The coffee finished, and I poured us two cups, bringing them over to the kitchen table.

  “No cream or sugar, I’m afraid,” I said.

  “No problem,” said Roy, wrapping his pudgy fingers around the mug. “Black is fine for me.”

  He took a slow sip, the steam wrapping around his face.

  “Just perfect,” he said. “Perfect.”

  As happy as I was to be a good hostess, part of me was hoping he’d hurry and get on with it. My hormones had been running wild recently, and anxiety seemed to have double the effect on me that it normally did.

  “Okay,” he said, setting down his mug and turning his eyes to me. “As you know, Mr. King left certain provisions in his will in the event of his death. The first of which is the immediate disbursement of pay and healthcare benefits. These I’m sure you already know about.”

  “I sure do,” I said. “I’m pregnant, and don’t know what I’d be doing without the amazing health care he provided for us.”

  “Ah, congratulations!” he said, his face brightening. “How far along? Do you need to come up with a name for a boy or girl?”

  “Only a couple months,” I said, placing my hand on my belly. “And as far as names…I don’t know. I have to think of a few. Four, to be precise.”

  Roy’s eyebrows raised. “Four?” he asked.

  “Four babies,” I confirmed.

  He gave an impressed whistle. “In that case, let’s get right to the heart of the matter here.” He poked a few more keys. “As you know, Mr. King had significant financial assets to his name. Most of this is being divided between his various charities, but…he’s also earmarked a percentage for the staff at his home. And your name is on the list of beneficiaries.”

  I titled my head in confusion.

  “Beneficiaries?” I repeated.

  “That’s right. Mr. King was very clear that he wanted those who worked so hard for him to be taken care of financially in the event of his passing. To that end, he left a little more than benefits and severance pay. Ah, more than a little more, to be honest.”

  My heart began to beat faster. “How much more?” I asked.

  “Well, there’s the matter of taxes, and I can have those taken care of for you. But Mr. King considered that already, and left you an amount that, once the taxes are taken out, will result in a nice, round number.”

  He turned the laptop around slowly, the screen packed full of legalese from a document he had open. But among the tiny letters on the screen, a number was highlighted.

  Five hundred thousand dollars.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, placing my finger on the screen. “He left that for me?”

  “Serious as it gets,” he said. “It’ll take a few weeks for me to get the estate in order and have the money ready to be sent out, but that’s the amount you can count on after taxes. All free and clear, all to spend as you see fit.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened slightly, and my hands began to tremble.

  “This isn’t some joke, is it?” I asked.

  “You know,” he said. “You’re the third former staff member that I’ve seen today, and every one of you has asked if this was a joke. Nope—this is really what Mr. King wanted for all of you.”

  “But…there had to be three dozen or so members of the staff. That’s…he left this for all of us?”

  “That’s right,” Roy said with a smile. “And, oh yeah, there’s a note for you.” He scrolled down on his computer and cleared his throat once he reached the correct spot. “‘To Chloe, for giving me something wonderful to look forward to each day. May your creativity and spirit take you as far as I know it can.’”

  Tears formed in my eyes, one quickly trickling down my cheek. I knew that Alfred was a kind man, but this was something else.

  “I don’t believe it,” I said.

  “Well, here’s the deal,” said Roy, closing the computer and taking another sip of his coffee. “You work on being able to believe it, and I’ll get to work on getting this money into your bank account as fast as I can. And I have the name of some great accountants who can invest this money in all the right places. Let the bean counters handle this, and you could very well live off this sum for the rest of your life—maybe even make it a little bigger in the process. That work for you?”

  “Yes,” I said, doing all I could to hold back the tears. “Yes, it does.”

  Roy drained the rest of his coffee. “Congratulations,” he said. “I’m sure this will be a huge help to you in the coming months.”

  I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t. I was still in total shock.

  “Now, unless you have any more questions, I have a lot of houses to get to—lots of good news to deliver.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a manila envelope. “Before I forget,” he said, opening the envelope. “Just need a few signatures…here, here and here.”

  I quickly signed, keeping one hand close to my face to stop my tears from dropping onto the documents.

  And that was that. Roy left me with a copy of the information, and he was gone.

  I couldn’t believe it. After all the stress I’d been under, my financial troubles were over. I now had the money to live independently and support my children.

  I stood up, feeling weak in the knees and resting my hand on the kitchen table while I got my bearings. Once I was ready, I took my mug and walked slowly through the living room, trying to process everything I’d learned.

  Jordan appeared in my thoughts once again. As much as I hated to admit it, having him be able to provide for the children was a big motivation for letting him know about my pregnancy. But now that I was—as of five minutes ago—financially secure, the only reason to tell him was because it was the right thing to do.

  But I couldn�
��t forget what he’d said to me so many weeks ago. He’d made it very clear that I was nothing more than “the help.” Why would I think a man like that would be ready, or even want to, be a father?

  No, he had his new life. He was probably busy establishing his reputation as a New York City playboy, throwing his newfound billions around.

  I didn’t need a man like that in my life. I had the means to provide for the kids all on my own, and I was ready to be the best damn mom I could be.

  Chapter 21

  Chloe

  August

  “You ready for this, Chlo?”

  My mom, Karen, a petite woman with my same head of curly blond hair, stood in front of me where I lay plopped on the couch in my living room. My belly was so big and round that sometimes I wondered if I was pregnant with watermelons rather than quadruplets.

  “I am,” I said.

  Richard, my father, a broad-shouldered, serious-faced man, had his hands on his hips as he gave my belly another look. Behind him, Amy and Isabella did the same, all of them seemingly in awe of the baby bump to end all baby bumps. “I still can’t believe it,” he said. “I still can’t believe my little girl’s about to have four kids.”

  “Well, believe it,” I said, resting my hands on my gigantic belly. “Because they’re ready to come out.”

  Today was the day of my cesarean section, the day I was going to officially meet my little babies.

  The last few months had been intense, to say the least. I’d run the gamut of pregnancy symptoms, all of them cranked up to eleven by the fact that I had an entire brood of babies growing inside of me.

  The money left to me by Alfred had been a godsend. Once Roy Silver deposited the money in my account, I had him put me in contact with his accountants. They went to work on the money right away, making all sorts of investments that I couldn’t hope to understand.