A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss (by Gregory Ellington) novel Chapter 373

**Wram 373**

Madison

“I’m absolutely certain.” The memory was a sharp thorn in my mind, still raw and stinging. That little ‘read’ notification popping up within moments, taunting me with its silence. Then came the nothingness—days turned into weeks, and those weeks morphed into months of desolate quietude.

Hazel paused, her brow furrowed in thought. “What if something happened to him? What if he didn’t actually see the message?”

“Stop right there.” I raised my hand, halting her gentle reasoning. “Don’t make excuses for him. He received the text. He consciously chose to ignore it.”

“Alright then.” Hazel lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around why he’d decide to show up now.”

“Because he’s Alexander.” I resumed my restless pacing, the familiar rhythm of my thoughts intertwining with my movements. “He can’t stand loose ends. I’m just a file he forgot to close.”

Hazel’s gaze was piercing as she scrutinized me. “You still love him.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“I’m protecting myself,” I insisted, my voice firm. “There’s a significant difference.”

“Is there really?”

I sank back onto the couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in my bones. “It doesn’t matter what I feel. He’s engaged to Katherine. He’s built a life in New York. I have my own life right here.”

“Except he’s not married,” Hazel pointed out, her tone almost incredulous. “Five years engaged and no wedding? That’s a little odd, don’t you think?”

“That’s his issue, not mine.”

“What if he came back for you?”

The question lingered heavily in the air, a palpable tension that made my heart flutter traitorously. I squashed the feeling, unwilling to entertain it.

“Then he’s five years too late,” I replied, my voice steady and resolute.

Hazel sighed, a sound filled with concern. “So what’s your plan for tomorrow when he shows up?”

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Liar.”

I shot her a glare, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Fine. I’ll tell him to leave. Again. Until he finally gets the message.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“He will. Alexander Knight doesn’t waste time on people who don’t want him around.”

“Except he drove two hours to see you,” Hazel reminded me gently, her eyes softening. “That’s not nothing, you know.”

“It’s not something either,” I countered, crossing my arms defensively. “It’s curiosity. It’s ego. Whatever it is, it doesn’t change anything.”

Hazel picked up her mug, cradling it between her hands as if it were a lifeline. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Careful of what?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Of falling for him again.” She met my gaze, her expression earnest. “I watched you piece yourself back together after he shattered your heart. I don’t want to see you go through that again.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly, a lump forming as her words sunk in. “I won’t.”

“Madison.”

“I won’t,” I reiterated, my tone more forceful this time. “I have Ethan to think about now. I can’t afford to make foolish decisions based on feelings that died years ago.”

“Feelings don’t just die,” Hazel said softly, her voice wrapped in understanding. “They merely go dormant. And Alexander Knight showing up at your café is like dousing those feelings with cold water.”

“Then I’ll make sure they stay buried.” I stood up, gathering our empty mugs with a sense of purpose. “More tea?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Yes, I am. Because there’s nothing more to discuss about Alexander Knight.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further.

We settled into a comfortable silence as she refilled our mugs, the chamomile scent wafting through the living room and mingling with the faint lavender aroma from my mother’s diffuser. Outside, the crickets serenaded the evening, their rhythmic chirping a soothing backdrop.

“You know what the worst part is?” I finally broke the silence, cradling the warm mug between my palms, feeling its comforting heat seep into my skin.

“What’s that?”

“I won’t.”

After Hazel disappeared into the guest room, I found myself alone in the quiet living room, the clock on the wall ticking steadily, each second a reminder that time continued its relentless march forward, regardless of my feelings.

Tomorrow. He had said he would return tomorrow.

I finished tidying up our mugs, double-checked the locks, and finally headed to bed. Sleep eluded me, coming in fits and starts, filled with dreams of Manhattan penthouses and intense eyes that seemed to see right through me.

Morning broke with Ethan bouncing on my bed at six-thirty, his excitement palpable.

“Mommy! Wake up! It’s preschool day!”

I groaned, pulling a pillow over my face in a futile attempt to drown out the noise. “Five more minutes.”

“But we’re making volcanoes today!” He tugged at the pillow, his enthusiasm infectious. “With real lava!”

“It’s just baking soda and vinegar, sweetheart.”

“That’s what I said! Real lava!” He jumped higher, his energy boundless. “Come on, Mommy!”

Defeated, I surrendered to the day and dragged myself out of bed. “Alright, alright. Let’s get you ready.”

An hour later, Ethan was fed, dressed, and practically vibrating with excitement over his volcano project. Hazel emerged from the guest room, looking surprisingly well put together for someone who had arrived unannounced.

“Coffee?” I offered, hoping to fuel my own weary spirit.

“Is that even a question?” She followed me to the kitchen, her eyes bright with curiosity. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” I fibbed, not wanting to burden her with my restless night.

“Which baby? The one that sleeps peacefully or the one that wakes up screaming every two hours?”

“The second one,” I confessed, a wry smile creeping onto my face.

Hazel accepted her mug gratefully, the warmth of the coffee enveloping her hands. “Want me to come to the café today? I can be your moral support in case he shows up.”

“You have work. Besides, he won’t actually come back.”

“Are you sure about that? Because the Alexander Knight I remember was nothing if not persistent.”