The Billionaire And His Son Want Me Back by Juliette Vaughan

Chapter 1

"Mrs. Vanderbilt, the food's gone cold again. Should I reheat it?" The housekeeper's cautious tone carried a hint of impatience as she glanced at Paisley Sutton.

Paisley sat alone at the large dining table, the vast space around her amplifying her solitude. She glanced at the time and then at the housekeeper, whose frustration was over her face. "Just clear it away," said Paisley with a faint smile that barely masked her weariness.

It was her birthday today, yet neither her husband nor son had bothered to come home. The stark absence of their presence made the silence in the room deafening.

The housekeeper began clearing the table with swift, almost annoyed movements, muttering under her breath, "Mrs. Vanderbilt, not to be rude, but why go to all this trouble? You knew neither your husband nor your son would be back tonight, yet you insisted on preparing a whole feast.

"Reheating this food three times tonight? It's exhausting. Honestly, as a wife and mother, you're not exactly winning any awards. Otherwise, why would they both avoid you like this?"

"You're right. I've failed spectacularly," Paisley replied with a bitter smile. The words stung, but she no longer had the strength to argue. In this house, even the housekeeper had no qualms about being openly dismissive toward her.

She understood that the housekeeper's attitude mirrored the Vanderbilt family's treatment of her. She scoffed internally, 'If my husband and son don't respect me, why would anyone else?'

Seeing Paisley's quiet despair, the housekeeper softened slightly, a flicker of pity crossing her face. With a sigh, she muttered, "People always cling to things that don't belong to them. If I were you, I'd let go. Let it all go. You'd be doing yourself a favor-and maybe even others."

Paisley didn't respond, but the words lingered, sinking deep into her mind like stones dropped into a still pond.

The room remained quiet, save for the clinking of dishes being cleared away. The chandelier overhead cast a soft, golden glow, but it only emphasized how hollow the space felt. Paisley's chest tightened, her heart weighed down by the emptiness she'd grown accustomed to.

The housekeeper finished clearing the table and retreated to her quarters, leaving the vast dining room eerily silent.

Paisley turned off all the lights, her movements slow and deliberate, as if each step required effort. Cradling the cake box, she climbed the grand staircase and returned to her bedroom. The space was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into her soul rather than her skin.

She settled onto the plush sofa by the window, the moonlight spilling in faintly, casting soft shadows on the walls.

Carefully, she opened the cake box. Inside was a delicately crafted dessert meant for celebration, though the atmosphere couldn't feel less festive.

She removed the cake, placed a single candle on top, and lit it. The flickering flame reflected in her tired eyes in an overwhelming darkness.

Just as she was about to gather her thoughts, a sharp WhatsApp message shattered the silence in the room. The sound was jarring in the quiet space, its abruptness making her heart jump. She hesitantly reached for her phone, only to find it was a video message.

She clicked on it, and the screen revealed a scene from a VIP hospital suite. Her husband, Dominick Vanderbilt, and her young son, Grayson Vanderbilt, sat by the bedside of a gorgeous, frail-looking woman. Paisley recognized her instantly. It was Marissa Prescott, Dominick's childhood sweetheart, to whom Dominick had once been engaged. This video was from her.

"Dom, I'm so sorry to keep you here so late," Marissa's weak voice came through, punctuated by soft, deliberate coughs.

his tone warm and gentle, with a tenderness Paisley

all day,' Paisley thought, a faint, self-deprecating smile curling her lips. She couldn't even remember the last time Dominick had spoken to her without an edge of irritation,

bitterness twisted in her chest as she wondered when his voice, once a source of comfort, had turned into a weapon. Now, it seemed, every word he directed at her was either critical or

Grayson's soft, childlike voice from the video. His small, chubby body crawled up onto the bed, snuggling into Marissa's arms. "Daddy and I love staying here with you. We don't wanna go

"I love having Marissa around. I wish she was my mommy." The video ended

she set the phone down. The candle on the cake flickered, its glow dim against

whisper. "Happy birthday to me." Dominick returned home well past midnight. The house was shrouded in darkness, an unusual sight. There was always a light left

as he handed Grayson off to the housekeeper. Without a word, he strode toward the master bedroom, his steps brisk and sharp. When he noticed the light spilling out from

suitcase, and on the low coffee table in front of her lay a divorce

replaced by a cold, impenetrable look. His voice was clipped and edged with annoyance. "Paisley, what is this? Another one of

like static in the air. She didn't have the energy to entertain his accusations, nor did she

quiet but unwavering, "Dominick, I want

his fatigue evident as he loosened his tie and tossed it onto

the coffee table, its candle burned down

today?" His tone carried faint disbelief, laced with a trace

doesn't matter," Paisley replied, shaking her head. She pushed the divorce agreement closer to him, her expression unwavering. "Sign it. Let's

scene. "Why?" he demanded, his tone accusatory. "Because I forgot your birthday? Don't

agreement with a hint of mockery in his eyes, and then

he began flipping through it, one page at a time, as if inspecting it like some trivial document that

nothing? You're going to leave empty-handed? Paisley, where would you even

laugh escaped Paisley's lips, though

that I have no one to rely on in Harrowfell, no place to go. That's why he's so confident, so

inner voice hissed with venom,

calm, her

is none of your concern. All you need to do is sign the

you really thought this through?" She didn't

a blow. For a moment, Dominick faltered, his mind clouded with a fleeting sense of unease. Her once-soft eyes now burned with an unyielding determination he hadn't seen

in his expression growing more pronounced. "Fine. Divorce it is," he said, his tone heavy with frustration. "But Sonny's custody? That's off the

had woken at some point and now dashed into the room, clutching Dominick's

his little face twisted with anger as he yelled, "I'm staying with Daddy. I don't want to go with you. You're

Dominick snapped, his voice sharp enough to

at. "I'm not wrong," he shouted, his words tumbling out in a storm of emotions. "You're just a useless housewife. Grandma

come between Daddy and Marissa, she