“Marry Me and I’ll Help Raise Your Daughters” — Billionaire to Single Dad, His Daughter Said…
Chapter 1
I was holding my daughter’s broken backpack when the richest woman in the city asked me to marry her.
Not exactly the setting I had imagined for such a question.
I was standing in the lobby of Sterling Children’s Hospital, trying to explain to a receptionist why my younger daughter, Sophie, had climbed through a restricted garden gate and fallen into a fountain.
“She wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” I said.
The receptionist smiled.
“I understand.”
“She was chasing a butterfly.”
“I understand.”
“She really likes butterflies.”
The woman beside the reception desk laughed quietly.
I turned.
Victoria Sterling.
I knew exactly who she was.
Everyone did.
Billionaire.
CEO of Sterling Global.
Owner of hospitals, hotels, construction companies, and half the downtown skyline.
She wore a dark green suit and carried no handbag, only a tablet.
Her expression was normally the sort that could make an entire boardroom stop talking.
Now she was watching me struggle with a wet backpack.
“You seem busy,” she said.
I sighed.
“You have no idea.”
A little girl ran across the lobby.
“Daddy!”
Sophie.
Her blond hair was dripping.
Her dress was soaked.
She had one shoe missing.
I closed my eyes.
“Sophie.”
“I found a butterfly!”
“I can see that.”
“It was yellow!”
“I believe you.”
She pointed at Victoria.
“Who’s she?”
I looked at Victoria.
“That’s Ms. Sterling.”
Sophie stared.
“The billionaire?”
Victoria smiled.
“Yes.”
Sophie nodded.
“Mom said billionaires don’t smile.”
My heart stopped.
Victoria’s eyebrows rose.
“She did?”
Sophie nodded.
“Mom was wrong.”
I tried not to laugh.
“You’re going to apologize.”
“Sorry.”
Victoria actually laughed.
It was the first time I’d ever seen her do it.
My older daughter, Emma, came running toward us.
“Dad!”
She stopped when she saw Victoria.
“What’s happening?”
“Nothing.”
Sophie answered before I could.
“Dad made the billionaire laugh.”
Emma looked impressed.
“Really?”
Victoria smiled.
“Your father seems to have that effect.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t encourage them.”
Victoria looked at both girls.
“Are they yours?”
“Yes.”
“Twins?”
“No.”
Emma was eleven.
Sophie was seven.
Their mother had died four years earlier.
Since then, I had become everything.
Father.
Cook.
Homework supervisor.
Taxi driver.
Nurse.
Hair stylist.
And occasionally, a man who forgot what day it was because he’d been awake too long.
Victoria studied me.
“You do all this alone?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I shrugged.
“You just keep going.”
She looked at the girls.
Something shifted in her expression.
Not pity.
Something else.
Maybe longing.
Before she could say anything, her assistant rushed over.
“Ms. Sterling, the board meeting has been moved.”
Victoria didn’t move.
“Tell them I’m busy.”
Her assistant blinked.
“You’re what?”
“Busy.”
She looked at me.
Then at the girls.
“Very busy.”
Her assistant walked away.
I smiled.
“I’m sorry for causing trouble.”
“You didn’t.”
“I work at the hospital garage. I shouldn’t even be in the main lobby.”
Victoria frowned.
“You’re the maintenance supervisor?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen your work.”
I looked at her.
“How?”
“You fixed the generator last winter.”
“You were here?”
“My office depends on this hospital.”
Sophie tugged my jacket.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
Victoria smiled.
“I think she outranks all of us.”
“She does.”
We started walking toward the cafeteria.
Victoria followed.
For ten minutes, the three of us sat together.
It felt strangely normal.
Then Emma asked the question that changed everything.
“Ms. Sterling?”
“Yes?”
“Are you married?”
Victoria nearly choked on her coffee.
“No.”
“Do you have kids?”
“No.”
“Do you like kids?”
Victoria looked at me.
Then at my daughters.
“Yes.”
Emma nodded thoughtfully.
“Good.”
I frowned.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“Stop interviewing people.”
She ignored me.
A few minutes later, Victoria stood.
“I need to go.”
She looked at me.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Can I speak to you privately tomorrow?”
“About work?”
“No.”
“What then?”
Her expression became serious.
“Something personal.”
I didn’t think much of it.
I should have.
Because the next afternoon, Victoria Sterling walked into my tiny apartment carrying a folder.
She placed it on my kitchen table.
Then looked me directly in the eyes.
“Daniel, marry me.”
I stared at her.
Then at the folder.
Then at her.
“I think the hospital gave you the wrong medication.”
She didn’t smile.
“I’m serious.”
She opened the folder.
“Marry me, and I’ll help raise your daughters.”
I couldn’t speak.
And neither could Emma, who had been standing in the hallway listening.
She slowly stepped into the kitchen.
Then looked at Victoria.
Then at me.
And whispered the words that would change all our lives.
“Dad… I think you should say yes.”
