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need present love. Messy, embarrassing, pancake-burning love. The kind that sits on the floor and listens.”
“Here’s $100—Can you be my mom today?” a billionaire boss’s son asked—until a shy woman replied, “Keep it. Billionaires pay in secrets.”
“It’s not simple. It’s just necessary.”
His voice dropped. “My wife died because of me.”
The truth entered the kitchen so quietly that everything else stepped aside.
