“Your fiance doesn’t want you to walk again,” the three-year-old whispered, her small hands pressed against the arm of his wheelchair. The billionaire froze, the morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows like it always did — golden, generous, completely indifferent to the war happening inside his chest. Then this tiny person with wild curls and a stuffed rabbit looked up at him with eyes that had never once been anything but honest. What she said next made him question everything he thought he knew about love.
“Your fiance doesn’t want you to walk again,” the three-year-old whispered, her small hands pressed against the arm of his wheelchair. The billionaire froze, the morning sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows like it always did — golden, generous, completely indifferent to the war happening inside his chest. Then this tiny person with wild curls…
