Poor Dad Met Woman at Divorce Support Group, Not Knowing The Billionaire Was Starting Over Too
The Secret Behind the Simple Life
The following morning, Vivian sat in her sparsely furnished apartment. Her laptop was open to a secure banking portal displaying numbers with significantly more zeros than a typical checking account. Her phone rang.
“Yes, Timothy, I understand the board’s concerns.”
“I stand by my decision to step back temporarily. After what happened with Robert and the divorce, I need to remember who I am without all of it.”
“The Neil Tech Board won’t wait forever, Vivian,” Timothy sighed. “Your ex-husband’s legal team is already circling. Taking a sabbatical is one thing, but completely disappearing?”
“I haven’t disappeared; I’ve simplified. Six months to live like a normal person without the weight of a billion-dollar tech company on my shoulders.”
The company that bore her name had been her life’s work. Lately, it had felt more like a prison than an achievement. Her thoughts drifted to Yates Miller with his honest eyes and coffee-stained pants.
The next week, Yates arrived at the support group early. When Vivian appeared, he felt an unexpected flutter of pleasure. After the meeting, they returned to Bean There.
“I actually went in yesterday and talked to Martha,” she said. “I start at the bookstore on Monday. Part-time for now.”
“That’s great! Martha’s awesome. You’ll like working there.”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve worked for someone else. It’s humbling.”
Over the next few weeks, their post-meeting coffee dates became a routine. One Saturday, Yates brought Emma to the bookstore.
“My dad says you know all about the good books,” Emma declared.
“I’m still learning, but I do know where to find the best adventures. Would you like me to show you?”
As Vivian led Emma to the children’s section, Yates watched them with a warmth spreading through his chest.
“I like your friend, Daddy,” Emma tugged on his hand. “She doesn’t talk to me like I’m a baby.”
“I like her too, kiddo.”
The following Friday, Vivian invited Yates to dinner at her apartment. He was struck by the simplicity and how sparse the space was.
“I’m not much of a cook, but I can manage not to burn spaghetti.”
“Better than me. Emma says my specialty is calling for pizza.”
“Yates, there’s something I should tell you,” she began, then hesitated as her phone rang. “I’m sorry, I need to take this. It’s my lawyer.”
Vivian returned several minutes later, her expression troubled.
“Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. My ex-husband is contesting our settlement agreement again. He’s making things complicated.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Just being here. Being normal. You don’t know how valuable that is to me right now.”
Later, Vivian fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. Yates looked down at her peaceful face, struck by how the worry lines smoothed away in sleep.
