The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 16

Chapter 16 The Call

**Mia’s POV**

The first thing I noticed was the soft cotton against my cheek, still damp with tears. For a moment, I kept my eyes closed, feeling the warmth of morning sunlight on my face. My body ached, heavy with exhaustion, but my mind felt strangely clear – clearer than yesterday.

Mom needed me. She was fighting for her life in that hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines and sterile walls. I couldn’t fall apart. Not now. Not when she needed me to be strong.

I pushed myself up slowly, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles. The en-suite bathroom mirror revealed what I’d expected – pale skin, dark circles under puffy eyes, hair tangled from restless sleep. I looked like grief personified. But I couldn’t be that person anymore. Not if I wanted to help Mom.

The hot shower helped, washing away the salt of dried tears. I let the water pound against my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension. Each breath came a little easier than the last.

A gentle knock interrupted my thoughts. “Mrs. Branson?” Mrs. Chen’s voice was warm with concern. ” May I bring in your breakfast?”

“Please come in.” My voice sounded rough, unused.

Mrs. Chen entered carrying a silver tray, “You should eat something,” she said, setting the tray on the small table by the window. The morning light caught the steam rising from a bowl of congee – her specialty, made with ginger and century egg. Comfort food. “Keep up your strength.”

She was right. “Thank you, Mrs. Chen.”

She hesitated, then added softly, “Mr. Branson left specific instructions. Anything you need, just ask.” Her eyes held something I couldn’t quite read. “He seemed… different this morning. Worried.”

The memory of last night flickered. His voice gentler than I’d ever heard it. But I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t afford to think about Kyle right now. Couldn’t let myself hope again.

“The job details from Mr. Parker arrived,” Mrs. Chen continued, placing a thick manila envelope beside my breakfast. “And I’ve charged your tablet.”

I nodded, grateful for her efficiency. The Havers project could be exactly what I needed. I need more money, also power. Mom needed it too. Every possibility mattered now.

The congee was perfect, as always. I forced myself to eat small spoonfuls while reviewing Jeo’s materials. The project was ambitious – a luxury boutique hotel that needed to blend modern aesthetics with historical architecture. Hours melted away as I lost myself in the work. Sketches filled page after page. Research about sustainable materials and local architectural history piled up on my tablet. The familiar flow of creativity felt like coming home to a part of myself I’d almost forgotten.

The sun was setting, painting the room in shades of orange and gold, when my phone rang. The number made my blood freeze.

Richard. The man I should call father.

I stared at the screen, memories flooding back unbidden. Dad walking out. Mom crying into her pillow at night. Taylor and her mother moving in like they’d always belonged there.

My finger hovered over ‘decline.’ But something stopped me. Maybe… maybe he’d heard about Mom. Maybe after all these years, he finally…

“Hello?” My voice came out steadier than I felt.

“Come home.” His voice hadn’t changed – still commanding, still expecting immediate obedience. “We need to talk.”

Home. As if that house had ever been home after he brought them in.

“Why?” I managed to ask.

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