My Child and I Married a Billionaire

a day for one, 400 for the other. The price difference was too great. Could the quality of the work be different?

Cecelia Archer didn’t immediately take the excavator operator at his word. She snapped a photo of his machine and, her mind filled with doubt, headed into the county seat.

Just as the operator had said, the construction crews in the county seat were all founded by influential local figures. They weren’t hurting for jobs and had practically monopolized all the business in the area. They were full of themselves, charging 800 a day—and not a penny less.

Cecelia pulled out the photo she had taken to compare. The excavators used by both teams were identical.

She discussed it with Miller. "Let’s just use the one from town," she said. "Even though the other machines won’t arrive for a few more days, we’ve only just gotten here and don’t know the ropes yet. There’s no need to make a big scene. We can start slow with one machine. By the time the rest of the equipment arrives, we’ll have a solid plan and a better feel for things. It won’t delay our progress, and we’ll save money."

Miller was once again annoyed by her.

’We’re spending the Vaughn Group’s money, not your family’s. What business is it of yours to be pinching pennies?’

’We came all this way representing such a big name, only to quietly hire some small-time, independent operator from a backwater town? How embarrassing! We’d lose so much face!’

’Besides, the more chaotic it is and the more outrageous the prices, the more cream there is to skim. Otherwise, why the hell would I come all the way out to this godforsaken shithole? What’s in it for me?’

Of course, he couldn’t voice these thoughts to Cecelia. He could only put on a professional front and pontificate on the many advantages of using the crew from the county seat.

Before they knew it, it was noon. Cecelia could see that Miller was displeased with her decision, so to soothe his temper, she offered to take everyone to lunch.

While washing her hands in the restroom, she took the opportunity to ask her other colleagues from the engineering department if there was really any difference between the county and town crews, and whether Miller’s persistence was justified.

They all exchanged a glance. Seeing that Cecelia genuinely didn’t get it, one of them whispered to her.

"There’s no real difference. If you have to find one, it’s about the showiness of it all. After all, President Miller is from Veridia, and he’s our department head. It’s a matter of face for him; he can’t be seen as dealing with small-timers."

"Besides, President Linden, you’re on your own, but President Miller has a family to support. If there’s a chance to skim a little off the top, you gotta let him skim a little, right?"

Cecelia understood.

’It wasn’t that she was trying to save money for the Vaughn Group. A corporation that massive wouldn’t care about the tens or even hundreds of thousands she might save. It was President Miller’s whole attitude that she couldn’t stand.’

’As a department head, he wasn’t thinking about how to bring the most value to the company; he was only thinking about lining his own pockets.’

’If everyone was like him, how could society possibly function?’

’Knowing what kind of person he is, if I choose to turn a blind eye, how is that any different from enabling him? Wouldn’t I be just as corrupt?’

Cecelia wouldn’t allow herself to become that kind of person.

Of course, she wasn’t a fool. She wasn’t about to get into a shouting match with President Miller. So, over lunch, she made a proposal.

They could use the county crew, she suggested, but they would have to negotiate the price down to the absolute minimum.

Why could others do the work for 400 a day, but they couldn’t? Why could others work overtime in the wind and rain, but they couldn’t?

She would haggle with them, grinding them down on price and schedule until both were rock-bottom. Then, she’d request dedicated funds from the Group, requiring an invoice for every single expenditure, all of it reported back to corporate with crystal clarity.

With her pulling a move like this, what the hell was left for him to skim? President Miller was rendered speechless.

He suppressed his anger, finished his meal, and pulled Cecelia aside to make his point indirectly.

He suggested there was no need to be so serious, that it was better for everyone if things were a little "blurry." But Cecelia played dumb.

"It’s getting late," she said, cutting him off. "If we don’t leave to go talk to them now, we’ll be coming back in the dark. It gets pretty cold at night, and we don’t want everyone catching a cold. President Miller, why don’t we talk on the way?"

’This damn woman! Is she really this naive, or is she just deliberately defying me?!’

It was no use. Cecelia was impossible to sway. Since there was no money to be made on the machinery, President Miller gave up.

’Whatever. There was still sand, lime, asphalt, cement, and all kinds of other building materials to procure later on. He would make damn sure to seize control of the sourcing from Cecelia then!’

"Forget it," he said abruptly. "Since the price in the county is so hard to negotiate, let’s just go with the one in town. No point wasting any more time talking. Let’s go. Back to town."

Cecelia returned to town, where she spent some time wheedling and cajoling the operator until she’d negotiated a bulk rate. And with that, the day came to a successful close.

That night, lying in his bed back at their rustic lodging, President Miller got angrier and angrier the more he thought about it.

’He was being one-upped by that little wench at every turn. If she kept her death grip on the other parts of the project too, this whole damn trip would be a complete waste!’

Unable to contain himself, he sent a message to Gwen Morgan.

"Miss Morgan, this Luna Linden is absolutely infuriating. Not only does she have no sense of boundaries with men, flirting with every male colleague, but she’s also trying to embezzle company funds and skim off the top. If I hadn’t been here to put a stop to it today... What do you think I should do?"

Gwen Morgan was practically giddy with delight when she read those words.

"You do what needs to be done, of course. With a bitch like that, your tolerance will only empower her to get worse. Gather evidence, send it all to me, and I’ll deal with it personally."

With Miss Morgan backing him, President Miller instantly felt a whole lot better.

Early the next morning, he began to discreetly gather his "evidence."

Cecelia came over again to help the village chief’s wife with breakfast, crouching by the sink to wash vegetables.

Seeing that her hands were red and raw from the cold, the handful of men warming themselves by the fire felt a little embarrassed and gathered around to help her.

CLICK. A photo was taken.

After breakfast, everyone went out with the village chief to survey the route and discuss the road’s dimensions. A wild rabbit suddenly darted out from the woods, startling Cecelia. A male colleague beside her reached out to steady her. CLICK. Another photo was taken.

One colleague finished taking a measurement and called out the number to the person recording, but they couldn’t hear him. Cecelia leaned in to read the number on the measuring tape herself. The moment her head drew close to her male colleague’s, another photo was taken.

All morning, President Miller did nothing but watch Cecelia, secretly snapping over a dozen "incriminating" photos.

At noon, Gwen Morgan was lounging on her office sofa, bored and scrolling through her phone, when a stream of photos flooded her inbox.

She tapped one open and was instantly stunned.

So clear. So vivid.

Photo after photo, frame after frame—she had no choice but to believe her eyes.

This Luna Linden didn’t just look like Cecelia Archer. She *was* Cecelia Archer.

’She wasn’t dead!’

’Not only was she alive, but she’d taken on a new identity, was managing a major Vaughn Group project, and was in frequent contact with Ryan?!’

This...

’Hadn’t Ryan recognized her?’

’As Damien Vaughn’s most capable right-hand man, how could he have made such a massive blunder?’

’Or... had he recognized her long ago, but...’

’Then... did Damien Vaughn know?’

’What if Damien Vaughn knew she wasn’t dead? Or what if he was the one who staged her fake death in the first place, helping her get a new identity so she could stay by his side...?’

The more Gwen Morgan thought, the more furious she became. Her vision swam, and she felt a rage so intense it was like she might cough up blood.

’Cecelia Archer! That bitch!’

’A lingering ghost who refuses to leave... Seducing Damien to such an insane, frenzied degree! If I don’t drag her down to the depths of hell, then am I, Gwen Morgan, even worthy of being called human?’

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