Her Mother-in-Law Held Her Down While Her Husband’s Mistress Slapped Her—Then One Powerful Man Walked Into the Hospital Hallway and Made Them Both Go Pale...

The charade escalated on a Tuesday evening when Jack followed Emily out of the hospital and straight onto the crowded city bus.

Alexander Bennett had not been on public transportation in fifteen years. It showed immediately. When the bus jerked forward with a violent hiss of air brakes, he completely lost his footing and nearly landed squarely in the lap of an elderly woman clutching a bag of groceries.

Emily reached out and grabbed his muscular forearm, steadying him. “Easy there, billionaire.”

Alexander froze. His blood ran cold. He looked at her, terrified she had figured it out.

Emily just laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m joking. Relax, you went entirely pale.”

“I don’t like buses,” he managed to say, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You don’t know how to ride one,” she corrected.

“I understand the basic concept of a vehicle moving forward.”

“Standing upright without crushing grandmas is a large part of the concept, Jack.”

When they reached the fare machine, Alexander pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. The driver stared at him like he was an alien. The machine rejected it violently. Emily sighed, rolled her eyes, and dropped two crumpled dollar bills into the slot to cover his fare.

Alexander stared at the machine. No one had paid for him in a decade. “I’ll repay you,” he said seriously.

“You absolutely will,” Emily pointed a finger at his chest. “Exact change. No dramatic financial rescues. I don't take charity.”

At Emily’s stop, they walked in the humid evening air. Suddenly, the bottom of one of Emily’s cheap grocery bags split open, sending cans of crushed tomatoes rolling across the pavement. Alexander dropped to his knees in his tailored slacks, gathering the cans without a word of complaint.

He helped her carry them up the three flights of stairs to her cramped apartment. By the second landing, he was breathing heavily.

Emily grinned over her shoulder. “Facilities fitness program not working out for you?”

“I’m fine,” he wheezed.

“You’re being defeated by canned tomatoes, Jack. It’s embarrassing.”

When Emily unlocked the door, a small boy in dinosaur pajamas charged into the hallway, brandishing a plastic pirate sword. Noah stopped dead in his tracks, pointing the sword directly at Alexander’s knee.

“Who are you?” Noah demanded.

Alexander looked down at the boy. “I’m Jack.”

“What do you do?”