The Fever, the Storm, and the Billionaire’s Secret

The rain poured in thick sheets, drowning the school parking lot in a relentless storm. Maya let out an exasperated sigh, arms crossed as she glared out the window.

Of course, just her luck.

The final bell had rung ages ago, yet here she was—stuck in an empty classroom with Eddie Thompson, the nerd who had single-handedly ruined her escape plan by deciding to fall sick.

"This is your fault," she snapped, turning to him.

Eddie barely lifted his head from his desk, his glasses slipping down his nose. His usually sharp blue eyes were glassy, his skin unnervingly pale. "My fault?" he croaked, his voice hoarse and sluggish.

"Yes! If you weren't such a nerd who insists on staying late to make everything perfect, we would've left before the storm hit!"

Eddie sniffled, rubbing his temples like the argument itself was exhausting him. "Excuse me for wanting an A instead of whatever half-effort you usually put in."

Maya gasped. "Half-effort? I made the entire visual presentation!"

"You just made it prettier."

"That's the point!"

Eddie groaned, slumping over like even talking was draining his last bit of energy. "Can we argue after I stop feeling like death?"

Maya narrowed her eyes. "Ugh. That's it. You need to go home before you pass out."

Eddie lazily pointed at the window. "You realize it's still pouring, right?"

"And whose fault is that?"

Eddie ignored her and pulled out his phone. A minute later, Maya heard the sound of an engine outside. A sleek, black luxury car rolled up to the entrance.

Maya's jaw dropped. "No way."

The car had tinted windows, and the man who stepped out to open the door was in a full black suit.

She turned to Eddie, eyes wide. "Who is that?"

"My driver," Eddie muttered, already gathering his things.

Maya's brain short-circuited. "You have a driver?"

Eddie sighed, too sick to explain. "Are you coming or not?"

Maya hesitated. The thought of running through the storm versus stepping into a billionaire's car? Yeah, okay. She'd figure out this mystery later.

By the time they arrived at Eddie's place—no, his skyscraper—Maya was already in full-blown crisis mode. The underground parking lot alone looked like a car showroom, filled with Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and other vehicles that made Maya's bank account weep.

She turned to Eddie, voice shrill. "Are you a mafia prince?"

Eddie groaned. "Oh my God, Maya—"

"A secret royal? A crime lord? A—"

Eddie stepped into the elevator and smacked the button for the penthouse. Maya trailed after him in shock—until she saw the golden letters at the entrance.

Thompson Group Towers.

Her breath hitched. "No way."

Eddie, who had stopped at the elevator, looked back at her. "You coming?"

Maya pointed a shaky finger. "Thompson. Group. Towers."

"Yeah?"

"You are Thompson Group?!"

Eddie blinked. "My family owns it. What's your point?"

Maya let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "I bullied a billionaire's son."

Eddie smirked. "Yeah, I let you."

"YOU LET ME?!"

Eddie walked inside the penthouse, leaving Maya standing there with her sanity in shambles.

She tried to act normal, but it was impossible. She was standing in a penthouse straight out of a magazine—high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, and furniture that looked insultingly expensive. But instead of admiring it, she was too busy dealing with Eddie, who had officially shut down.

Eddie slumped onto the couch, his breathing shallow.

Maya frowned. "Oh, hell no."

She walked over and poked his arm. "Eddie?"

Nothing.

She frowned harder. "Eddie."

Still nothing.

Panic kicked in. Was he dead? Did the fever kill him? Oh God—

Then Eddie let out the softest, most exhausted sigh and curled up slightly.

Maya let out a relieved breath. "You little drama queen."

After a moment, she spotted a medicine bottle on the nearby table. Fever reducers. Good.

"Alright, sick nerd, time for your medicine."

Eddie groaned. "I hate medicine."

Maya raised an eyebrow. "And I hate tutoring you, but life isn't fair."

Too weak to argue, Eddie let her give him the pills. She handed him a glass of water, watching as he lazily sipped it like every movement was a struggle.

"God, you're pathetic," Maya muttered.

Eddie mumbled something, then slumped again.

Maya sighed. "Fine."

She grabbed a blanket from the couch and draped it over him.

But when she turned to leave, she felt something pulled her .

She froze she had no idea what it was.

Her hair. A strand of it had gotten caught in Eddie's watch.

Maya carefully leaned over, trying to untangle it without waking him. But as she did, her eyes landed on his face.

He looked… peaceful.

His usual sharp gaze was hidden behind closed lids, his long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks. His breathing was slow and steady, lips slightly parted.

Maya swallowed.

For a second—just a second—she had the strangest urge to reach out, to brush her fingers over his face, to—

She snapped out of it.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Shaking off the weird feeling, she quickly freed her hair and grabbed a sticky note. Scribbling something down, she stuck it on his desk and bolted.

Eddie woke up feeling… surprisingly warm. His fever had broken. He blinked, adjusting to the bright penthouse light.

Wait.

How did he get to bed ?

His last memory was sitting on the couch. But now—

A knock sounded at the door. His maid entered with a tray of tea.

"Good morning, young master. Your friend left once the storm calmed down

She told me to inform you once you woke up.

Eddie rubbed his temples. "Maya?"

The maid smiled politely. "Yes. She was quite… expressive."

Eddie frowned. What did that mean?

As he returned to his desk, something caught his eye.

A sticky note.

He picked it up, reading the messy handwriting:

"You look cute sleeping. – M"

Eddie stared.

Then, against all logic, he found himself smiling.

"What a weird girl."

But he didn't crumple the note.

Instead, he folded it neatly and tucked it into his desk drawer.