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“How old are they?” That question nearly broke me 😨. My twins standing in his office, his eyes tracing their faces like he felt something he couldn’t explain. I lied. I had to. Because Xander Hale doesn’t just own companies—he owns power, lawyers, control 🖤. And I don’t know what happens when a man like that realizes the children he’s bonding with are his 💔. I’m not just protecting my heart. I’m protecting my daughters from a truth that could change their lives forever ❤️‍🔥🥀. Chapter 1 [POV Daphne] The morning started falling apart before I even properly opened my eyes. "Mommy, let’s make pancakes!" Nina's voice pierced through the apartment like a fire alarm. I found her in the kitchen rummaging through drawers. "We don't have time for pancakes today. Today is Mommy's big day with an interview for her new job, remember? I told you about it last night." "I don't care about your job." She stuck out her lower lip. "I want pancakes!" Before I could respond, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her face crumpled with distress. "Mommy, I can't find my purple shoes. I need my purple shoes." "What about your pink ones? The pink ones are pretty." "No!" Lisa's eyes welled with tears. "Only purple. Purple is my lucky color." I glanced at the clock on the near wall. Forty-five minutes until I needed to walk through those office doors. Forty-five minutes to feed two stubborn four-year-olds, get them dressed, drive across the city, and somehow look like a competent professional worthy of being hired. "Okay. Okay, let me find the shoes." I dropped to my knees and peered under the couch. One purple shoe, covered in dust bunnies. I searched the living room, the girls' bedroom, under their beds. Nothing. Nina was now actively flicking oatmeal onto the table with her spoon. I pretended not to see it because I didn't have time for that battle. The bathroom. Why the bathroom? But there it was—the second purple shoe, sitting inexplicably next to the toilet. I was on my knees reaching for it when Lisa's quiet voice stopped me cold. "Mommy, why don't we have a daddy like other kids?" My hand froze on the shoe. The question hung in the air, innocent and devastating—a knife slipped between my ribs with the gentleness only a four-year-old could manage. I turned to find her standing in the doorway, thumb hovering near her mouth, dark eyes wide and earnest. Eyes that looked exactly like someone else's. "What do you mean, baby?" My voice came out steadier than I expected. "Emma at daycare has a daddy. And Sophie." Lisa's lower lip trembled. "But we don't. Did our daddy not want us?" The words hit me like a physical blow. How could I possibly explain that to her? How to explain something I don’t know myself? He probably didn’t want me, because he left too early to even get to know about our girls. I pulled her into my arms, pressing my lips against her dark hair, breathing through the ache in my chest. "Our family is perfect just the way it is," I whispered. "Mommy loves you and Nina enough for a hundred parents. You know that, right?" Lisa nodded against my shoulder, small fingers clutching my shirt. "I know, Mommy." But the question lingered in my chest like a bruise as I helped her into the purple shoes. I heard a crash from the kitchen. My coffee mug. My full coffee mug, knocked over by Nina's flailing arm during her oatmeal protest, now spreading a brown river across the counter and down the front of my carefully chosen white blouse. I stood there for a moment, coffee dripping onto my shoes, and reminded myself that crying wouldn't help. "Mommy, you're messy," Nina observed. "Yes. Thank you, Nina. I noticed." The backup outfit, a slightly wrinkled gray blazer and black pants I'd meant to iron but never got around to, would have to do. I changed in three minutes flat, wrestled both girls into their jackets, and somehow got them buckled into their car seats only twenty minutes behind schedule. "Mommy, why are you driving so fast?" Lisa asked from the backseat. "I'm not driving fast, baby. I'm driving efficiently." "What's efficiently?" "It means Mommy's trying not to lose her mind." I dropped them at daycare with rushed kisses and promises to pick them up right on time. Five years of this—five years of being everything to them, of stretching myself so thin I'd forgotten what it felt like to be whole. But this job could change things. This job meant stability. A real paycheck instead of scraping by on freelance projects that barely covered rent. Health insurance for the girls. A chance to rebuild something of the person I used to be before sleepless nights and endless toddler tantrums hollowed me out. The building made me feel small the moment I stepped inside. Marble floors, mirrored elevators, employees moving with quiet efficiency in their tailored clothes and confident strides. I tugged at my wrinkled blazer and tried to stand taller. Everything about me felt wrong—shabby, out of place, like I'd wandered into someone else's life by mistake. While waiting for HR near the reception desk, I overheard two assistants whispering nearby. "Did you hear? Xander Hale rejected three candidates last week," one said, shaking her head. "Three. All perfectly qualified." The other woman nodded gravely. "He's impossible to please. Remember Sarah? He made her cry on her second day." They exchanged knowing looks, and my stomach tightened. The name meant nothing to me, but their tone painted a picture I didn't like. HR arrived before I could spiral further—a kind-faced woman named Patricia who smiled like she meant it. "Ms. Carter? Right this way. Mr. Hale is expecting you." She led me to the top floor through a corridor lined with large black-and-white photographs. Corporate achievements. Award ceremonies. Men in suits shaking hands, accepting plaques. One image made me freeze mid-step. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought Patricia must have heard it. A man stood at a podium—sharp features, dark hair, an unwavering stare, and a familiar tension in his jaw. I knew that face. I knew it intimately, even though I'd only seen it for one night five years ago. The stranger from the bar. The man who'd made me feel seen and wanted for the first time in my life. Who'd vanished before morning, leaving only a fake name and a phone number that didn't work. Who'd given me Nina and Lisa without ever knowing it. "Ms. Carter?" Patricia glanced back, concern flickering across her face. "Everything alright?" I forced a smile, tearing my eyes away from the photograph. "Fine. Sorry. Just… admiring the décor." I must being ridiculous. Men like him, scruffy, charming strangers in bars, didn't become billionaire CEOs. It was just a resemblance. The world was full of dark-haired men with intense eyes. It didn't mean anything. Right? We reached the corner office. Patricia knocked once, announced my name, and left with an encouraging smile. "Mr. Hale will brief you personally. Good luck." The door clicked shut behind me. A man stood at the window with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. Tall. Broad shoulders. Expensive suit. "I don't care about the timeline," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Make it happen." That voice. My chest tightened. I knew that voice. I'd heard it whisper my name in a dark hotel room, had felt it rumble against my skin. He ended the call and turned slowly. When our eyes met, time seemed to stop. It was definitely him, no doubts. Older now, sharper, the scruff replaced by clean lines and an aura of power I hadn't seen before. But unmistakably him. The same dark eyes. The same intensity that once made me feel like the only woman in the world. Surprise flickered across his features—a crack in the polished facade, there and gone in the space of a heartbeat. But I caught it. The slight widening of his eyes, the almost imperceptible parting of his lips, the way his body went completely still like a predator who'd just spotted something unexpected in his territory. He stepped forward, and I had to fight the urge to step back. He studied my face with unsettling focus—his gaze tracing my features like he was comparing them to a memory, cataloging every detail. The line of my jaw. The shape of my mouth. The eyes that had looked up at him in a dim hotel room five years ago… "Have we... met before?" he asked. My mouth went dry. But I stood frozen, heart pounding, as the truth crashed over me like a wave. My potential boss was the father of my children. Chapter 2 The silence stretched between us, thick and unbearable. My mind raced for an escape, a denial, anything that would get me out of this office. Away from those piercing dark eyes that saw too much. I forced my expression into polite confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't think we have." My voice came out steadier than I expected, but Xander didn't buy it. His eyes narrowed slightly, studying my face with that same intensity I remembered from years ago. The way he'd looked at me across the bar, like he was trying to memorize every detail. "You look familiar," he said slowly, each word deliberate. "I'm certain we've met." I shook my head, maintaining the lie even as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest. "I just have one of those faces… People say that to me all the time." I tried to smile, but it felt brittle on my lips. Like it might crack and shatter at any moment. Xander watched me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze. I could almost see the wheels turning in his mind, sifting through memories, trying to place me. Then he stepped back, gesturing toward the chair across from his desk. "Sit." It wasn't a request and I obeyed, grateful for the chance to hide my trembling hands in my lap. The leather chair was expensive, soft—the kind of furniture that cost more than three months of my rent. Everything in this office screamed wealth and power. Everything about him screamed danger. "Your resume is impressive," he began, settling into his own chair. "Schedule management, correspondence, coordinating meetings—you've listed experience in all of these areas. Tell me about your last position." "Freelance administrative work, mostly. Remote clients, flexible hours." I kept my voice professional, detached. "I managed calendars, handled email correspondence, organized travel arrangements." "Why freelance?" Because I was pregnant and alone and couldn't hold down a regular job while raising twins by myself. Because you vanished and left me with nothing but a fake name and two babies growing inside me. "Personal circumstances," I said instead. "But those circumstances have changed. I'm ready to commit to a full-time position now." Xander nodded, but his attention kept drifting back to my face. I could feel him trying to place me, searching through memories like someone flipping through an old photo album. The tension became suffocating. "Your typing speed?" "Ninety words per minute." "Software proficiency?" "Full Microsoft suite, Google Workspace, basic graphic design programs, several project management platforms." My responses felt mechanical, rehearsed. I just needed to get through this meeting. Just needed to survive the first day. Then I could figure out what to do, how to handle working for the man who… "And what about your dream of becoming a writer?" I froze. “I’m sorry?” His voice was quieter now, stripped of its commanding edge. Something almost vulnerable flickered across his features. "That night at the bar five years ago. That’s what you’ve told me." My composure cracked. My breath caught in my throat, and I saw the recognition dawn fully in his eyes—the confirmation he'd been searching for. The polite confusion I'd been wearing like armor crumbled away, and there was no point in denying it anymore. "And what about your name was Alex," I said, and the words came out harder than I intended. Years of buried hurt rising to the surface. "That you work in construction. Some things are changing pretty quickly I guess." Xander tensed up. He didn't deny it. "I believed you." I heard the bitter edge in my own voice and couldn't stop it. "But you decided I wasn't worthy of the truth." "That’s not…" "I'm not waiting for any explanations, there's no need." His expression shifted—surprise, maybe even guilt—but I didn't give him time to respond. Well, I certainly don't look like someone who doesn't care. But since I've finally been given the chance to say everything I've been thinking of, it would be a sin not to take advantage of it. "But you know what? That’s actually insane how you thought everything through. The phone number you gave me didn't work. The construction company that doesn't exist. I searched for 'Alex' everywhere I could think of, and found nothing." The old wound tore open, spilling everything I'd kept locked away. The humiliation of those weeks after our night together, when the pregnancy test showed two lines and I desperately tried to find him. "I actually tried to find you…" I said quietly. The admission slipped out before I could stop it, raw and honest in a way I hadn't intended. Something flickered in his eyes. Pain? Regret? I couldn't tell, and I didn't want to know. "It doesn't matter now," I continued, straightening in my chair, pulling my professional mask back into place like armor. "That was a long time ago. A different life." "Daphne, I had no idea that…" "I'm here to do a job, Mr. Hale." I met his gaze steadily, daring him to push further. "Whatever happened before—it's in the past. I'd like to keep it there." Xander held my stare for a long moment. I could see the questions burning behind his eyes, the things he wanted to say pressing against his lips. His hands gripped the arms of his chair like he was physically restraining himself from speaking. But finally, he nodded slowly. "Fine. We'll keep this professional then." His tone was clipped, controlled, but something in his expression told me this conversation wasn't over. Just postponed. "You're hired," he said. "Patricia will show you to your desk and go over the onboarding paperwork. You start immediately." I blinked, caught off guard. That was it? Despite the tension, despite the awkwardness, despite what had to be the shortest and strangest interview in corporate history… He was hiring me? "Don't you want to... check my references? Conduct a second interview?" "No." His eyes met mine, unreadable. "I've seen enough." I didn't know what to make of that. Didn't know if it was a good thing or a warning. "Thank you," I managed. "I won't let you down." "You better not." I stood on shaky legs and walked to the door, feeling his gaze on my back with every step. My hand was on the handle when his voice stopped me. "Daphne." He sat behind his desk, powerful and untouchable, a world away from the man I'd met in that bar. "I had my reasons. For the name. For all of it." I waited for more, but nothing came. "Goodnight, Mr. Hale," I said, and walked out. The door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My mind was spinning, but one thought crystallized with perfect clarity: he gave me a fake name. A fake life. He never wanted me to find him. Whatever his reasons, he'd made it clear that night meant nothing to him beyond a few fleeting hours. And if he didn't want to be found then, he certainly didn't deserve to know about Nina and Lisa now. The secret stayed buried. I'd make sure of it. Want to read more? 😉 Check out Two Little Secrets From My Boss Now! 🔥👔