The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 84

Aveline

After Orion stormed out, I found myself oddly relieved. The tension that had been coiled in my shoulders since our argument began to ease as I headed upstairs for a proper shower.

The hot water washed away the stress of the morning's confrontation, and when I emerged feeling refreshed and clear-headed, I selected a soft cashmere sweater and comfortable jeans from the well-stocked closet. Whatever else I thought about Orion's presumptuous behavior, I had to admit his taste in clothes was impeccable.

The rest of the day unfolded like a perfect domestic dream. Ryan was an absolute angel—engaged, curious, and affectionate in a way that made my heart sing. We painted watercolor landscapes, practiced simple piano pieces, and built an elaborate fort out of couch cushions. Mitchell appeared periodically with snacks and encouraging words, treating me like I was a cherished member of the household rather than a temporary employee.

It was, I realized with some surprise, exactly what I'd always imagined the perfect home would feel like. Warm, nurturing, filled with laughter and creativity and genuine care.

The only strange thing was that in this ideal domestic scene I was envisioning, there was no man present at all. Just me, a child who felt like my own, and a kind elderly figure who provided support without judgment.

The illusion was shattered only as evening approached and Mitchell began setting an extra place at the dinner table.

"Oh, you don't need to do that," I said quickly. "I should be heading home soon."

"Nonsense, Miss," Mitchell replied with gentle firmness. "Master Orion specifically requested that you join the family for dinner. He should be returning from the office shortly."

The phrase "join the family" made something flutter nervously in my chest, but I pushed the feeling aside.

"That's very kind, but I really can't stay," I insisted, already gathering my things. "I've imposed enough for one day."

"Miss Aveline, are you leaving?" Ryan appeared in the doorway, his face falling with disappointment. "But Daddy said you'd eat dinner with us! He promised we could all eat together like a real family!"

The hope in his voice tugged at something deep inside me, threatening to unravel my carefully maintained resolve. I gripped my hands tighter, forcing myself to remember how today had unfolded—each decision quietly taken from me. The forced departure from school, the clothes he'd chosen, the tutoring session that had somehow consumed my entire afternoon. If I stayed for dinner too, I'd basically be admitting that he could orchestrate my entire life.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I said, kneeling down to give Ryan a hug. "But I promised my grandmother I'd have dinner with her tonight. Maybe another time?"

It wasn't entirely a lie—I did try to eat with Grandma whenever possible. But mostly, I just needed to reclaim some control over my own schedule.

Ryan accepted my explanation with the gracious disappointment that only well-raised children can manage, and I made my escape before Orion could return and deploy his considerable powers of persuasion.

---

The moment I walked through the door of my family's apartment, I knew something was off. Instead of the usual indifferent acknowledgment or outright hostility I'd come to expect, I was immediately surrounded by my stepfather, stepmother, and Vivian, all of them radiating an energy that felt distinctly predatory.

"Aveline!" Monica exclaimed with false brightness. "How was your day, sweetheart? You look wonderful! That sweater is so expensive-looking!"

"Did you have a nice time with the Blackwells?" Richard added with an oily smile. "Such an impressive family. Such connections!"

Vivian just stared at me with calculating eyes, like she was trying to figure out how to best use whatever information she thought she'd gathered.

Something was definitely wrong. They never paid this much attention to me unless they wanted something or were planning something unpleasant.

I ignored all three of them and headed straight for Grandma's room, knocking gently before pushing open the door.

"Grandma? Are you awake?"

My grandmother was sitting in her favorite armchair by the window, but instead of her usual warm smile, her expression was surprisingly serious.

"Come in, dear," she said, patting the small stool beside her chair. "We need to talk."

I settled beside her, immediately concerned by her tone. "Is everything alright? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine, child. But I need to ask you something, and I want an honest answer." Her sharp eyes studied my face intently. "What exactly have you been doing lately? And don't just say 'teaching'—I mean really doing."

I blinked in confusion. "I... I really have just been teaching, Grandma. And spending time with my student. Why do you ask?"

"No romantic entanglements? No handsome men turning your head?"

The unexpected question made me laugh. "Men? Grandma, I think I'm completely done with men for the foreseeable future. Even if some gorgeous billionaire showed up at my door with roses and diamonds, I'd probably slam it in his face."

Relief flooded my grandmother's face, and she actually smiled for the first time since I'd entered the room.

"Good," she said firmly, reaching for something on the table beside her. "Because I was hoping you'd say that. Look at this nonsense."

She handed me her smartphone—a device she'd grudgingly learned to use so she could stay current with news and social media. The screen showed what appeared to be a local gossip blog, and my own face stared back at me from the headline photo.

I scrolled through the article with growing amazement. The headlines were sensationalized beyond belief:

*"KINDERGARTEN TEACHER LANDS BILLIONAIRE BACHELOR!"*

*"AMBITIOUS EDUCATOR MOVES IN WITH MANHATTAN'S MOST ELIGIBLE SINGLE FATHER!"*

*"TEACHING MORE THAN ABC'S: LOCAL WOMAN'S FAST TRACK TO HIGH SOCIETY!"*

*"DESPERATE FOR MOTHERHOOD: TEACHER FIGHTS PARENTS TO PROTECT MEAL TICKET!"*

The photos were even worse than the headlines. Someone had managed to capture shots of me getting into Orion's car, walking with Ryan, and—most embarrassingly—what appeared to be action shots from this morning's altercation with Marcus's parents. The angles were terrible, the lighting was harsh, and I looked like a completely different person in every single frame.

Instead of feeling angry or upset, I found myself laughing.

"Oh my god, Grandma," I gasped between giggles. "Look at this picture! They managed to photograph me from the absolute worst possible angle. I look like a demented gargoyle! And this one from the fight—I look like I'm about to breathe fire!"

"Aveline!" Grandma scolded, though I could see she was fighting back a smile. "You're missing the point entirely! This isn't about whether you photograph well!"

"I know, I know," I said, still chuckling as I scrolled through more unflattering images. "But you have to admit, their efficiency is impressive. The fight was this morning and it's already online with full editorial commentary."

Grandma sighed and took the phone back from me. "Sweetheart, I know your generation doesn't worry much about public opinion, but you need to be more careful. You're still technically married, even if it's only on paper. These kinds of rumors could cause real problems."

I bit back my immediate response. Grandma had lived through nearly a century of social expectations and old-fashioned rules—it was natural that she'd see things through that lens.

"You're absolutely right, Grandma," I said contritely. "I promise I'll be more careful. And besides, this weekend I'm finally going to get my husband's contact information and put an end to this whole mess once and for all."

"That's my sensible girl," Grandma said approvingly. "The sooner you sort out that legal tangle, the better. And Aveline..." She paused, her expression growing concerned. "These photos and articles... they could affect your reputation for a long time. When you're ready to find a good man—a real partner who'll treat you right—this kind of gossip could make things complicated."

I looked at this remarkable woman who had raised me, who worried about my future happiness even as she dealt with her own aging and health concerns, and felt my heart swell with affection.

"Don't worry about that, Grandma," I said softly, taking her weathered hands in mine. "I don't need a man to take care of me. I can take care of myself, and more importantly, I can take care of you. Once I get all this drama sorted out, I'm going to find us a beautiful place to live—somewhere with a garden where you can sit in the sun, maybe near the park where we can walk together. Just you and me."

I had expected her to protest, to insist that I was too young to give up on romance, to worry about me sacrificing my future for her. Instead, she simply nodded, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

"Oh, my dear child," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You have such a good heart. I just want you to be happy."