New beginning: Billionaire love story

Andrea gently spooned soup to his mother's lips, watching as she managed a small smile. She was weaker than usual, her hands shaking too much to eat on her own. When she finally finished, he placed the bowl aside and sat by her bedside, his mind racing. He knew he shouldn't ask-she was tired, and this could wait. But he couldn't hold back any longer. "Mom, how does Claire and I are related?"

She took a shaky breath, looking at him with those same weary eyes that had raised him. "Ah, Andrea... I hoped you'd never have to hear about it." She looked away, her gaze focused somewhere far beyond the hospital room. "Years ago, I was... in love with a man. Claire's father."

Andrea felt a pang of surprise, but he stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue.

"I didn't know he was married," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "When I found out, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't stay and be part of that... that hurt to another family. So I came here, to Italy, and that's when I met your father."

His heart sank, hearing the pain in her voice. She'd given up everything, he realized, all because she couldn't stand the thought of ruining another family.

"Your father... he was a good man, Andrea. He loved me, even when I told him I was pregnant with you."

Andrea leaned back, feeling the weight of everything settling heavily on his shoulders. A whole other family... Claire Peterson, the name echoed in his mind, pulling him back to the moment he first heard it.

Too much. Way too much for one day. But what was he supposed to do now?

After another hour of sitting with his mother, Andrea finally stood, kissed her forehead, and left the hospital. He made his way back to his cramped apartment, pausing in the doorway to look around at his tiny kitchen, the peeling wallpaper, the cracked tiles. The usual sights were all there, but now they seemed even smaller, more confining. He remembered Eligos's words, taunting him.

Don't you want a better life? A life where you can afford your mother's treatment?

He sighed, his eyes drifting around the room until they landed on the business card resting on the counter, its edges slightly worn from being handled too many times. Eligos had left it behind, like a door just waiting to be opened. And for the first time, Andrea felt tempted. "Just one call," he muttered to himself, picking up the card and staring at the number printed on it. Just one call to find out more, he reasoned. To understand who Claire was... and why she mattered so much.

He dialed the number, heart thumping as he waited. Once... twice... on the third ring, a smooth voice answered.

"Ah, Andrea. I thought you might call," Eligos said, sounding as if he'd been expecting this all along.

Andrea swallowed. "Yeah. I, uh, I want to know more about... Claire. Claire Peterson."

There was a pause, and he could almost feel the satisfaction in Eligos's silence. "I thought you might be curious. She's quite... important, you know. CEO, successful, living in the lap of luxury." Andrea felt a bitter taste in his mouth. "And I'm her brother," he said slowly, almost testing the words as he spoke them.

"Half-brother," Eligos corrected. "But yes. You share the same blood, even if you don't share the same life. Yet."

Andrea leaned against the counter, his gaze drifting around his apartment, taking in all the little reminders of his life. "What does it mean, though? I mean, I don't even know her. She doesn't know me."

"But don't you think," Eligos replied, his tone sly, "that she should know? After all, family is important. And who knows, maybe she'd be willing to... help?"

Andrea clenched his jaw, hating the way Eligos made it all sound so easy. "And you think she'd just... help? Just because I tell her who I am?"

There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "Perhaps not immediately. But you'd be surprised, Andrea. Family ties are powerful things. And, well, Claire isn't just anyone. She has the means to make a difference." Andrea glanced down at his worn shoes, his heart heavy. "It feels... wrong, like I'm only interested because she's rich."noveldrama

Eligos's voice softened, his tone almost sympathetic. "Andrea, you're not doing this for yourself. Think about your mother. She's the one who needs help, isn't she?"

Andrea let out a long sigh. "Yeah... I guess she does."

There was a pause, then Eligos spoke again, his voice smoother than ever. "Good. Now, if you're serious about this, I can help you meet her."

Andrea's head snapped up, surprise and anxiety flooding him. "Meet her? Just like that?"

"Oh, of course not 'just like that.' But I can arrange it. All it takes is a little nudge in the right direction. I'll take care of the details-think of me as your... guide."

Andrea hesitated, staring at the card still clenched in his hand. "And what do you get out of this?"

Eligos chuckled. "I only want to help, Andrea. Let's just say... I have an interest in seeing how this all unfolds. And maybe, if all goes well, we'll both get something we want." Andrea's mind was a whirl of confusion, but he couldn't deny the tug of curiosity. "So... what do I need to do?"

"Nothing, for now," Eligos replied smoothly. "Leave it to me. I'll reach out when the time is right. Just be ready."

The line went dead, leaving Andrea alone in the quiet of his apartment. He looked around, feeling the weight of his decision sink in. Meeting Claire the idea felt like stepping into a world he'd never been a part of a world that was so far from his owyn he could hardly picture it.

Would she even believe him? The thought gnawed at him. But then he thought of his mother, lying in that hospital bed, needing care that he couldn't afford. He shook his head, trying to push the doubts away. All he could do now was wait. And hope that somehow, someway, this decision would lead to something better.

Claire's penthouse was a picture of sleek modernity, all polished marble floors and tall windows that framed the city skyline.

She sighed, flipping through the pages of yet another contract that Sandra had emailed over for her to sign and send back. Sandra never slept, apparently. And now, thanks to her, neither did Claire.

"All right, let's get this over with," she muttered, grabbing her favorite mug and reaching for the coffee pot.

She had the document in one hand,

the coffee pot in the other, and was too focused on making sure she didn't miss a word on the page. So much so, that she didn't even notice the coffee was pouring over the edge of the mug-and onto her hand.

"Ah!" she yelped, jerking her hand away. The mug slipped from her grip, crashing to the floor and splattering coffee everywhere.

"Great," she muttered, rubbing her scalded hand. "Just what I needed."

She glanced down at the mess. Coffee was splattered all over the white floor and was shattered into pieces.

She placed the document carefully on the table and went to grab a plastic bag. "Okay, Claire. Calm down. Just a broken mug. You've got this."

Kneeling, she carefully picked up the

larger glass shards, dropping them into the bag. She was doing fine until her finger brushed against a

d.ne

particularly sharp piece. She hissed,

pulling her hand back to see a thin

line of blood welling up from the cut.

"Of course," she muttered, looking around for a tissue. "Why wouldn't I cut myself today?"

As she dabbed at the blood, a strange feeling crept over her a sudden wave of unease. It was subtle, but there, like a small knot tightening in her chest. She couldn't place it, but something just felt... off.