Hey, Billionaire

three

"My poor darling!" My mom, who was dressed in a plain white dress that fits her perfectly and who was just flipping a pancake on the pan, turned to me and exclaimed. She looked at me with wide eyes, examining me from head to toe. She marched towards me right after. Her strides were big and her movements were so fast I didn't even had the time to react. She enveloped me in a tight hug.

"Good morning, Mom," I greeted, wrapping both my arms around her. She pulled away slightly, not letting go. "Good morning to you too, my sweet angel." She gave me a smile and pecked on my forehead before pulling away from the hug. I smiled back at her, still touched by the gesture Mom  does every morning.

"Sit on the dining table, darling . I'll bring the breakfast in a minute." Mom turned her back from me.

"I want to help," I said. In return, she shot me a look. A warning look my own father won't even dare just brush off and provoke her further. But I was different.  I was her favorite person. So I whined and followed her to where the pile of golden brown fluffy pancakes were. "I want to heeeelp," I repeated, dragging the word 'help'.

"No, you can't. My darling's sick and I'm not letting him do any strenuous activity."

"But bringing a plate of pancakes to the dining table isn't a strenuous activity," I told her and pouted. She grabbed a spatula and pointed it towards me. "It is now..." she rose her eyebrows and waved the spatula in front of me, "Go sit your bum on one of the kitchen chairs before I make you."

I sighed in defeat and walked out of the kitchen. Once I reached the dining table, there was cup of hot chocolate already. The second I laid my eyes on the hot chocolate, I knew it was mine. There were huge marshmallows sitting atop the liquid and cashews next to the cup. I immediately sat down and stirred my drink.

Gulping a few times, I made sure I didn't finish the whole thing before the pancakes even arrive. I looked around noticing the new painting that was hanging on the wall. It was an abstract painting in a very pretty color combination. Blue. The paints used were in different shades of blue that complemented the white canvas well.

"You like it?" I quickly faced Mom when I heard her speak beside me. I nodded. "It's beautiful."

"That's good to know. Your brother sent that here this morning from his business trip in London." Really? Is he back? I couldn't contain my excitement from hearing my mother's words. "I love it. When is Lucas coming back?" I asked.

"At the end of the week," said Mom, as she sat down on the seat opposite mine. And we started eating. The bacon and pancakes were so delicious. "Isn't he supposed to be back tomorrow? He promised me a trip to the ice cream shop by the park."

"Darling, Lucas is busy so he might not be able to bring you to the park. On the other hand, Harry can accompany you there."

As much as I like Harry's company, I don't think I'd enjoy going to the park with him. Besides, he has a grandmother to take care of during his free time. So I turned Mom's idea down, telling her that I'd rather make cookies with her tomorrow which she happily agreed on.

Wondering where Harry was, I asked Mom and she told me he had to go home because Anita, his grandmother asked for him. I felt bad actually. I hoped Anita would recover so Harry wouldn't be alone.

"Enough of other people. Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Call Dr. Luis? I heard you had a problem sleeping. Are you not feeling well?" She rambled, dropping her utensils gently on her empty plate. Her brows were knitted and I was afraid wrinkles would form on her forehead. God, I hoped her dark brown hair wouldn't turn gray because of me.

"Mom, I'm fine. Harry was exaggerating."

She narrowed her eyes, examining me.  "Are you sure? Why can I see dark circles under your eyes, huh? And you think I didn't notice you slightly limping earlier? You're also wearing a long-sleeved turtleneck sweater when you don't even like that specific type of clothing. I even had to force you to wear that sweater the last time we went abroad." She started firing questions.

What do I say? I was currently panicking. No plausible excuse came to my mind, I'm doomed. Do I say 'I have dark circles under my eyes because I went to a club last night with Evan and I'm limping because I probably had sex with someone. And now I'm wearing a turtleneck sweater to hide dark plenty bruises and bite marks on my neck some stranger made.' ?! Will adding 'Mom, please don't kill me' make the situation lighter??

I glanced at her and saw that she was still raising her eyebrows and looking at me questionably. So I settled with a simple answer. I tucked my bottom lips out so I was pouting. I told her, "I was cold. It was too cold, I didn't get much sleep. A-and—and, I fell on the side of my bed when I tried to snuggle my pillows. It hurt," I said, why eyes burned and tears welled up. Not because I was really hurt but because I was feeling really guilty lying. I never knew it would be this hard to lie.

I heard a sound of a chair scraping against the tiled flood and the next thing I knew was encased in a warm hug once again. "Aw, my poor sweet angel."

I was never used to lying to my parents. I never felt as guilty as today, seeing the worried look she had.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Luckily the tears didn't fall as I spoke. "We went to a club yesterday..."

I pulled away from the embrace, "and I don't remember much. I promise I didn't mean to drink." Glancing up at her, she had a soft expression plastered on her face. It was the total opposite reaction I was expecting to see.

"B-but it's true that I'm cold," because I woke up with no clothes.

Mom ruffled my hair, the corners of her lips tugged up to form a gentle smile. "It's okay, darling. I understand. It's alright. We'll talk later, okay? Mommy's not mad at you. I will never be, because you're still my sweet angel."