Billionaire Boss Pretends To Be Broke On Every Blind Date — Until He Meets A Single Mom Who…
The Museum Scheme
Marcus spent the next three days in a state of controlled panic that his executive team found both baffling and amusing.
“Let me get this straight,”
his Chief Operating Officer, David Park, said during their Thursday meeting.
“You want us to remove your photograph from the museum entrance?”
“Temporarily relocate it,”
Marcus corrected, pacing his corner office.
“Just for Saturday afternoon. And the plaques—all of them in the Bennett Wing.”
“The wing that’s literally named after you? Can we temporarily cover the signage?”
David stared at him like he’d suggested selling the company for a dollar.
“Marcus, what is going on? You’ve been distracted all week. Yesterday you approved a budget proposal you’d already rejected twice, and this morning you called our Singapore partners at 3:00 a.m. their time because you forgot about time zones.”
Marcus sank into his leather chair, rubbing his temples. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawled beneath him—a kingdom he’d built from a college dorm room and a good idea.
Everything he’d achieved, every success, every billion in the bank, suddenly felt like an obstacle rather than an accomplishment.
“I met someone,”
he admitted finally.
David’s eyebrows shot up.
“The construction worker thing again?”
“She’s a nurse. Single mother. She works at City General, raises her daughter alone, and she’s the most real person I’ve talked to in years.”
Marcus pulled up Rachel’s photo from her social media profile—limited and carefully private, mostly pictures of a little girl with pigtails holding butterflies and flowers.
“She thinks I’m a construction project manager named Mark who drives an old truck.”
“Oh boy,”
David muttered.
“Marcus, you can’t keep doing this.”
“Eventually…”
“I know.”
Marcus stood again, unable to sit still.
“I know it’s insane. I know I should have told her the truth immediately, but David, you should have seen her face when she talked about her ex. About the guys who’ve dated her just to leverage connections or who disappeared when they realized she had a kid. She’s been through enough.”
“So your solution is to lie to her?”
The words hit harder than Marcus expected. He turned away from David’s knowing look, staring out at the cityscape.
“I just need time. Time to show her I’m interested in her, not just playing some game. Once she knows me—the real me, not the bank account—then I’ll tell her everything.”
“And you think she’ll be fine with the deception?”
Marcus didn’t answer because he didn’t have a good one.
By Friday evening, he’d arranged everything. The museum director, an old college friend named Patricia Holmes, had been surprisingly understanding after Marcus explained the situation, or at least a version of it that made him sound less insane.
“You’re lucky the Bennett Wing is set up modularly,”
Patricia told him over the phone.
“We can rotate those panels overnight. Your photo will be in storage for the weekend, but Marcus, this is absolutely the last time I’m doing something like this. If you want to date someone while pretending to be poor, might I suggest not taking them to buildings you donated?”
“Point taken,”
Marcus said.
“I owe you one.”
“You owe me several, and I expect a very generous donation to our education programs as payment for this absurdity.”
Saturday morning arrived with the weight of impending disaster. Marcus dressed carefully: jeans from a regular department store, a simple button-down shirt, and work boots that he’d actually scuffed up this time.
He left his penthouse in the service elevator, walked two blocks to the garage where he kept the pickup truck, and drove to the museum like a man heading to his own execution.
Rachel and Sophie were waiting at the entrance. The little girl wore a purple dress covered in butterfly prints and light-up sneakers that blinked with every step.
Her hair was pulled into two ponytails tied with ribbons, and she clutched a small stuffed butterfly toy.
“Mark!”
Rachel waved, and Marcus felt his stomach twist with guilt at the fake name.
“Hi,”
he managed, walking over. He crouched down to Sophie’s level.
“You must be Sophie. Your mom told me you’re a butterfly expert.”
Sophie regarded him with the solemn suspicion of a five-year-old meeting a stranger.
“Are you my mommy’s friend?”
“I hope so,”
Marcus said honestly.
“Do you like butterflies?”
“I do now.”
That earned him a small smile. Sophie looked up at her mother.
“He’s okay, I guess.”
Rachel laughed, the sound easing some of Marcus’ tension.
“High praise from the tough critic. Should we head inside?”
The museum was crowded with families, the weekend rush in full swing. Marcus had visited dozens of times for board meetings and donation events, always through private entrances with champagne and catered hors d’oeuvres.
Seeing it through the main entrance, standing in line with regular people, felt oddly intimate. He kept waiting for someone to recognize him—a security guard, a staff member, anyone who’d seen his photo in the business section or at fundraising galas.
But people just moved past him, focused on their own families and exhibits.
“Tickets are on me,”
Rachel said, pulling out her wallet at the admission desk.
“Rachel, no. You bought coffee last time. My turn.”
She was already handing over her credit card before Marcus could argue. He watched the transaction with discomfort, knowing that the admission fees for all three of them cost about what he usually spent on lunch.
Sophie grabbed his hand with sticky fingers as they entered, her earlier suspicion forgotten in her excitement.
“The butterflies are this way! I saw pictures online!”
She dragged him through the main hall, Rachel following with an amused smile. Marcus barely had time to note with relief that the photograph rotation had worked; his face was nowhere in sight, replaced by a generic museum banner.
