Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Meet Your Son

Warmth.

That was the first thing that hit her. The smell of vanilla and warm milk.

"Mommy?"

A small voice came from the living room.

Elara dropped her bag and kicked off her boots. "I'm here, Leo."

Leo was sitting at the small kitchen table. He was six, but he had the focus of a sixty-year-old. He was hunched over a laptop that was covered in dinosaur stickers.

He slammed the laptop shut as soon as he saw her.

"You're late," he said. He sounded exactly like Julian. The inflection, the tilt of the head. It broke her heart every time.

"I know, baby. Work was... long."

Mrs. Higgins, the elderly neighbor who watched him, poked her head out of the kitchen. "He ate his lasagna. He's been on that computer all night, Elara. I don't know what he does on there."

"Just games," Leo said quickly.

Elara paid Mrs. Higgins and walked her to the door. When she turned back, Leo was watching her. His grey-blue eyes were too perceptive.

"You were crying," he stated.

"It's just the wind," Elara lied. She walked over and kissed the top of his head. His hair was soft, dark like his father's. "What were you really doing on the computer?"

Leo hesitated. Then he opened the lid.

On the screen wasn't a game, but a complex string of code running in a terminal window. A video feed popped up.

"I accessed the municipal traffic grid," he said nonchalantly. "I wanted to make sure you were safe." He pointed at the screen. "That man. The tall one. He stood in front of you."

Elara looked at the grainy footage of Julian shielding her from the angry driver.

"Who is he?" Leo asked.

Elara swallowed. "He's... just someone I used to know."

"He looks like me," Leo said.

Elara's blood ran cold. "Lots of people have dark hair, Leo."

"Not the hair. The standing." Leo stood up and mimicked Julian's posture-hands in pockets, shoulders back. It was uncanny.

"Time for bed," Elara said, her voice sharp.

Later, after Leo was tucked in, Elara sat on the edge of his bed. He was asleep, clutching a stuffed bear.

Her phone buzzed. A text from the bank.

Alert: Deposit of $50,000 received from Anonymous Source.

Elara stared at the screen. Her stomach churned. She hadn't given her account number to anyone. Was this Julian? Or...

She ran to the living room and opened Leo's laptop. It was password protected, but she knew it. Nebula123.

She checked his history. He had been on a dark web forum for white-hat hackers. He had completed a bounty for a crypto vulnerability.

"Oh, Leo," she whispered.

He was trying to save them. Just like his father tried to save his company. But she couldn't touch this money. It was untraceable, dangerous. If she used it, the IRS-or worse, Julian's forensic accountants-would flag her instantly.

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