BILLIONAIRES: Father or Son

Chapter Twenty

JAYDEN'S POV

'I love you so much, Jay.'

Flora's soft, melodious voice floated into my sleep like a distant echo. It was a phrase she used to say every morning without fail, and I didn't usually respond when she said this to me, but today... today, I felt elated. It seemed like something was different, and my heart was filled with warmth.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up," she continued with a gentle persistence. "Your bath is ready, and I've picked out your outfit. I promise you'll love this color. It goes really well with your tie."

I groaned, rolling over in bed, refusing to open my eyes. I could almost see her, sitting beside me, her radiant smile brightening up the room. I had been exhausted after my trip last night, and the last thing I wanted was to get up early and head to work.

But then, the blare of my alarm shattered the illusion. I flinched at the shrill sound, feeling a surge of annoyance. Why wasn't Flora turning it off like she always did? I squeezed my eyes shut, stubbornly waiting for her to reach over and silence it. But... she didn't.

The alarm kept ringing.

The cold realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. My eyes flew open, and I blinked at the empty side of the bed, the sheets smooth and undisturbed. No trace of her scent lingered in the air. The room felt hollow and lifeless. Just a dream.

I slammed my hand down on the alarm, silencing the persistent noise. Exhaling slowly, I rubbed my face and glanced around. This was becoming a routine—waking up expecting her to be there, only to be smacked in the face with reality. Flora was gone, and I was stuck in this torturous cycle of longing and regret.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my foot knocking against an empty bottle. When had I started drinking myself to sleep? I couldn't even remember coming home last night, let alone crawling into bed. My head pounded as I dragged myself up, the cold floor biting at my bare feet. You need to get a grip, Jayden.

The bathroom mirror didn't offer much encouragement either. My reflection was a mess—dark circles, hair mussed, and a weariness that went bone-deep. I shook my head at myself before stepping into the shower, letting the hot water pour over me. I hoped it could wash away more than just the grime of the day. Maybe it could numb my thoughts, and drown out the guilt that had taken root in my chest.

But it didn't.

I had finally decided to visit Flora today. Maybe seeing me would help her understand how much I needed her. It had been over a week since she walked out on me. I had sent her flowers and gifts, notes laced with apologies, and even offered to let her and her family stay at the house rent-free. But Flora's silence was louder than any rejection. She hadn't even bothered to acknowledge my attempts. It drove me crazy.

A part of me was furious, but another part—one I hated admitting even existed—understood. She needed space. She was grieving, still hurting from the loss of our child in ways I couldn't comprehend. But damn it, I needed her too.

Flora is soft-hearted. She still loves me, I know she does. She told me that every morning for three years. She just needed a little reminder, a little push. Maybe, like Jace said, I needed to show her more than just gifts. I needed to show her that I could change, that I could put her first.

Freshly showered, I walked into our—my—walk-in closet. I picked out my clothes, but then hesitated in front of the tie rack. Which one would she have picked? She always knew what looked good on me, and always had an opinion on every single detail—even down to the color of my cufflinks. I tried holding up one, then another, but none of them felt right. Frustrated, I grabbed a handful and marched back into the bedroom.