UNEXPECTEDLY THE BILLIONAIRE'S WIFE

"Ugh, finally," Layla muttered under her breath, her voice weighed down by exhaustion. She had been on her feet for nearly five hours, working non-stop. The clock had just hit 6 p.m., but her day wasn't over yet. She still had another job waiting... babysitting her neighbor Mrs. Cole's twins for the next three hours before she could finally call it a day.

Leaving the cozy warmth of the café where her shift had just ended, Layla wrapped her thin jacket tighter around her and headed toward Mrs. Cole's apartment. As soon as she knocked, the door swung open. Mrs. Cole stood there, cradling one of the twins -a little boy- in her arms, while the girl peeked from behind her mother's legs.

"Good evening, ma'am," Layla greeted politely, mustering a small smile despite the tiredness tugging at her features.

"Oh, Layla, sweetheart, how are you holding up?" Mrs. Cole asked kindly. "I'll be back before 9:30, but my husband might return earlier. Their dinner and snacks are already in the fridge, and before putting them to bed, please warm up some milk."

Layla nodded, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No problem, ma'am. I'll make sure they have warm milk before bed."

After Mrs. Cole left, Layla turned to the twins, who were already busy playing with their toys on the living room floor.

"Well, it's just the three of us now, huh?" she said, pouting playfully as she joined them, her heart a little lighter for the moment.

Hours passed, and by 9 p.m. sharp, Mr. Cole returned. The twins were already fast asleep, curled under their little blankets.

"Oh, good evening, Mr. Cole," Layla greeted as he stepped through the door.

"Layla, how are you? The twins are asleep already?" he asked, setting his keys down.

"Yes, sir. I put them to bed a while ago. I was just waiting for your wife to return so I could head home," she replied softly.

Mr. Cole reached for his wallet and pulled out a crisp $100 bill, handing it to her. "Here, let me pay you so you can get going."

Layla accepted the money with quiet gratitude. "Thank you, sir."

Once home, she gently pulled out a small, worn box from beneath her bed. Carefully, she added the $100 bill to the little stack inside, her growing collection of hard-earned cash. Every dollar she earned from side gigs went straight into that box. She was saving it for one thing: her father's prison bail.

Three years ago, her father had been arrested for drug possession and theft. He'd been caught during a police raid, and ever since that day, Layla had been left to fend for herself. For a long while, resentment filled her heart, anger at the man who'd let her down, who had chosen the wrong path and left her all alone.

But during her visits over time, something changed. Her father had changed. Surprisingly, he'd become more devout, more thoughtful, and