Poor Dad Walked A Woman To Her Car At Night, Not Knowing She Was A Billionaire Falling For His Care
The Truth Revealed at the Gala
The next week, Patrick didn’t show up. Leela waited through class, then lingered outside.
When he still didn’t come, she asked the receptionist quietly. “Patrick? He called, said he couldn’t make it. Something about work.”
She nodded, but something twisted in her chest. That night, she drove by the address she’d seen on Wyatt’s emergency form.
It was a small two-bedroom duplex with peeling paint. Through the kitchen window, she saw Patrick helping Wyatt with homework.
She didn’t stop, but she came back the next day. He opened the door, surprised.
“Leela?” She held up a paper bag. “I brought dinner. Hope that’s okay.”
He blinked, then stepped aside. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” she said, walking in. Wyatt gasped.
“You brought food!” She laughed. “Pizza and garlic knots. Your dad said you like those.”
Patrick watched her as she set the table, laughing with Wyatt, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back.
She didn’t look like a billionaire. But Leela Westwood owned Westwood Ventures, one of the fastest growing investment firms.
She had no idea why being in Patrick’s kitchen made her heart ache in the best way.
After Wyatt went to bed, Patrick walked her to her car again. The air was cool, and their hands brushed.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said softly. “I know,” she said. “But I wanted to.”
He looked at her. “Why?” She hesitated.
“Because I like being around you. Around Wyatt. Around this.”
He stared at her for a moment. Then he whispered, “Me too.”
They didn’t kiss. But when she drove away, Leila knew she was falling for a man who had no idea who she was.
“Do you ever sleep?” Leela’s voice floated across the backyard as Patrick knelt beside a broken fence post.
He looked up, startled, prying it loose with a crowbar. She stood there with a thermos and a bag over her shoulder.
Her jeans were dusted with flour. There was a faint streak of white, maybe batter, on her forearm.
“Depends on the week,” he replied, resting on his heels. “Saturday mornings are for fixing what’s been falling apart.”
She stepped closer, bending slightly to peer at the cracked wood. “And today it’s the fence?”
“Today it’s everything,” he said, wiping his forehead. “Fence, leaky pipe, and the car’s making a sound that doesn’t sound good.”
“You always do it yourself.” “Can’t afford to call someone every time the sink gurgles.”
She crouched beside him, examining the splintered post. “I could help.”
“You know how to fix a fence?” “I know how to hand someone tools,” she said.
“And I brought coffee.” That made him laugh, the first real laugh she’d heard since they met.
She handed him the thermos. It was warm, strong, and tasted like cinnamon.
By the time they finished the post, Patrick’s hands were scraped and Leela’s jeans were smudged with dirt.
Wyatt had come out with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He declared himself the project supervisor.
They sat on the steps to eat, the sun warm against their faces. “So,” Patrick said after a moment.
“You ever fix a fence before today?” “No,” she admitted.
“But I’ve watched at least three videos on it in the last hour.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You watched videos before coming over?” “I like to be prepared.”
He leaned back, balancing his sandwich on one knee. “You always like this? Jumping into things?”
She looked at him, something thoughtful in her expression. “Not usually. I plan. I control every variable I can.”
“But with you…” She shook her head, smiling faintly. “You make it easy to do things I don’t usually do.”
The wind rustled through the old oak tree, scattering leaves across the lawn. Patrick didn’t say anything for a long moment.
Then he said, “You ever think about how weird this is?” “How so?”
“I mean, you’re you, and I’m me. Our lives don’t exactly run in the same circles.”
Leela tilted her head. “Maybe that’s the point.”
That night, after she left, Patrick sat outside long after Wyatt had gone to bed.
He stared at the fence they’d fixed and the forgotten thermos. He didn’t know what this was.
But he hadn’t felt this unsettled in a long time. It was not in a bad way.
It was a way that made him think something was about to change. The next day, a man showed up at his job.
He wore a tailored navy suit and looked out of place. “You Patrick Dales?”
Patrick wiped his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, what’s this about?”
The man handed him a letter. “You’ve been selected for a private restoration project in the city. Pays triple your current rate.”
“You’ll be renovating a historical property.” Patrick frowned. “I didn’t apply for anything.”
The man shrugged. “Someone recommended you.”
He opened the letter later that night at the table. It was typed on heavy cream paper.
He didn’t recognize the handwriting at the bottom. But somehow he knew. “Leela.”
The next time he saw her, he didn’t ask. Instead, he spoke.
“So, this restoration job. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it?” She didn’t blink.
“I might. Did you take it?” “I’m thinking about it.”
“You should.” He studied her. “Why?”
She sat down with the sketchbook Wyatt had asked her to look through. “Because it’s a real opportunity.”
“And because you don’t belong stuck fixing fences for people who can’t pay you on time.”
“Neither do you,” he said quietly. She looked away, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked. She hesitated.
“Because I want to see what happens when someone like you finally gets a break.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the whole answer.” “No,” she admitted. “It’s not.”
She stood, grabbing her coat. “We’re having a fundraiser Thursday night. Art auction.”
“I’d like you to come.” “I don’t own anything close to what I’d need for that.”
“I’ll take care of it.” “Thought you weren’t into controlling people.”
“I’m not. Just giving you the option.” He waited. “Where is it?”
She hesitated. “The Westwood Foundation building.”
He stared at her. “Westwood, as in…” “Yes.”
She didn’t elaborate. He didn’t ask.
But when she left, he sat at the table for a long time. Her words echoed: “Someone like you deserves a break.”
He didn’t know what would happen Thursday night. But he knew one thing: Leela Westwood was about to change everything.
