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.

and gentle, with a tenderness Paisley hadn't heard from him in years. It wasn't

remember the

her chest as she wondered when his voice, once a source of comfort, had turned into a weapon. Now, it seemed, every word

don't need to worry," came Grayson's soft, childlike voice from the video. His small, chubby body crawled up

Marissa around. I wish she was my mommy." The video ended abruptly, leaving Paisley staring at the

as she set the phone down. The candle on the cake flickered,

out the flame. The dimness swallowed the room as her voice broke the silence, soft and almost a whisper. "Happy birthday to me." Dominick returned

irritation 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

sofa, her posture unnervingly composed. Beside her was a neatly packed suitcase, and on the low coffee

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

energy to entertain his accusations, nor did she have the desire

her voice quiet but

evident as he loosened his tie and tossed it onto the sofa. That was

the small cake sitting on the coffee table, its

disbelief, laced with a trace of guilt. He'd forgotten, and his assistant hadn't

head. She pushed the divorce agreement closer to him, her expression unwavering. "Sign

making a scene. "Why?" he demanded, his tone

of mockery in his

paper between them. Slowly, he began flipping through it, one page at a time, as if inspecting it like some

You're going to leave empty-handed? Paisley,

though her heart felt heavier

on in Harrowfell, no place to go. That's why he's so confident,

inner voice hissed with venom, 'What an arrogant, self-satisfied

on the outside, Paisley remained eerily calm, her silence more cutting

go is none of your concern. All you need to do is sign the papers and meet me at the City

Dominick's temper flared, his voice laced with frost. "Have you really thought this through?" She didn't bother responding, simply tossing the pen onto the table near his hand. "Stop wasting time.

Dominick faltered, his mind clouded with a fleeting sense of unease. Her once-soft eyes

massaged his temple, the weariness in his expression growing more pronounced. "Fine. Divorce it is," he said, his

could react, a small voice pierced the tension. Grayson had woken at some point

glared at Paisley, his little face twisted with anger as he yelled, "I'm staying with Daddy. I don't want to go with you. You're a horrible mom. A

voice sharp

Grayson was undeterred, his tear-streaked face defiant after getting screamed at. "I'm not wrong," he shouted, his words tumbling out in a storm of emotions.

you hadn't come between Daddy and Marissa, she would be my mom right