My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 359

Mission Mommy

~Julian-

I woke to find Aiden already dressed and standing at the foot of the bed, a small notebook clutched in both hands, his expression set with the seriousness of a general reviewing battle plans.

Katia was still asleep beside me, pale but breathing easily, the color slowly returning to her face after the night before. Dr. Park had left instructions taped to the mirror in the bathroom, and Aiden, apparently, had read every word of them himself before I had even opened my eyes.

“Daddy,” he whispered, though it was not really a whisper at all, more of a loud, urgent stage voice that he seemed to believe counted as quiet. “Mommy is not supposed to touch anything today.”

“Is that so?” I asked, sitting up carefully so as not to wake her.

He nodded, flipping open his notebook to a page covered in his own uneven handwriting, letters leaning in different directions like they had been written in a hurry.

“Mission one,” he said. “You will bathe her. Make sure the water is soothing. You have to put things in it that help her body relax.”

“Understood,” I said, fighting the urge to smile at how completely in charge he sounded.

“Mission two,” he continued. “After the bath, Mommy is not allowed to touch her phone. Not even a little.”

“That might be the hardest mission of the day,” I said.

“I know,” he said gravely, as though he had already anticipated this exact obstacle. “You will have to be firm. I will call Aunt Sam not to disturb her with work issues.”

“And mission three,” I said.

“I will make her something to eat,” he said, closing the notebook with a decisive snap. “If you help me.”

I looked at my son standing there in his pajamas, hair still messy from sleep, taking his mother’s recovery more seriously than most adults took anything, and felt something in my chest tighten in the good way, the way it only ever seemed to tighten around him.

“Deal,” I said. “Let’s get started.”

I ran the bath while Aiden supervised from the doorway, directing me toward the small basket of bath salts the hotel had left on the counter, lavender scented and labeled, conveniently, for relaxation. He insisted on adding them himself, pouring with careful concentration, and then asked if warm milk helped too, because he had read somewhere that warm milk helped people sleep, and maybe it worked for baths as well. I told him it probably would not hurt.

Katia stirred when I carried her into the bathroom, blinking up at me with the confused, heavy lidded look of someone not yet convinced she was fully awake.

“Julian,” she murmured. “What are you doing?”

“Following orders,” I said, setting her down carefully on the edge of the tub, testing the water once more with my wrist before helping her in. “Aiden has assigned missions for the day. I am currently on mission one.”

She let out a small, tired laugh, the sound of it easing something in my chest that had not fully settled since the night before.

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“Missions,” she said.

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“Very detailed ones,” I said. “There is a notebook.”

I helped her settle into the water, keeping my movements slow and careful, mindful of everything Dr. Park ha told me about how fragile she still was after the night before and how important it was that she rest and not e herself in any way. I washed her hair gently, working the shampoo through in slow, careful passes, and she le back against the edge of the tub with her eyes closed, some of the tension I had watched build in her shoulder: over the past weeks finally starting to loosen.

“You do not have to do this,” she said quietly, though she made no move to stop me.

“I want to,” I said. “Let me take care of you today. Just today.”

She did not argue further.

When I finally helped her out and wrapped her in a warm towel, guiding her back to bed, Aiden was waiting outside the door, practically vibrating with the effort of standing still.

“Is she clean?” he asked immediately.

“Very clean,” I said.

“Good,” he said, satisfied, then leaned around me to look at his mother properly, his whole face softening the moment he saw her settled against the pillows. “Mommy, you have to rest. The doctor said. And you cannot tou your phone. That is mission two, and I am in charge of enforcing it.”

“Enforcing it,” Katia repeated, amused despite herself.

“Yes,” Aiden said solemnly. “I already hid it in the drawer.”

I glanced at Katia, who looked equally startled and impressed by this development, and could not quite keep the smile off my face.

“He takes his responsibilities seriously,” I said.

“Clearly,” she said.

Aiden climbed up onto the bed beside her, careful the way he had been the night before, and pressed a small, careful kiss to her cheek before scrambling back down.

“I am going to help Daddy make you food now,” he announced. “Do not move.”

“I will try my best, General,” Katia said, watching him go with an expression so full of quiet love that I found myself standing there a moment longer than necessary, just watching her watch him, before Aiden’s voice called impatiently from the hallway, already moving on to mission three.

In the small kitchenette attached to the suite, Aiden pulled a chair over to the counter and climbed up onto it without being asked, positioning himself directly beside the cutting board like a chef awaiting instruction.

“What are we making?” I asked.

“Soup,” he said immediately. “Because it is soft and easy for her tummy. And rice. Not spicy rice, the plain kind. Because spicy makes people sick, and Mommy is already sick enough.”

I raised an eyebrow at the confidence behind this diagnosis.

“Did you read that somewhere too?” I asked.

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Mission Mommy

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“I know things,” he said, with the wounded dignity of someone who felt his expertise was being unfairly questioned.

We worked together for the better part of an hour, Aiden directing operations with a seriousness that would h made half the executives at WEG uncomfortable, insisting the vegetables be cut smaller so they would be easi swallow; insisting the broth needed more time on low heat because his teacher once said patience made food t better; and insisting on carrying the tray himself even though it was clearly too heavy for him, until I finally convinced him to let me carry the actual tray while he carried the smaller plate of sliced fruit beside it, which l accepted only after negotiating for several minutes about which of us had the more important job.

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