My Billionaire Ex Beg For A Second Chance-Chapter 128: Clean Up Your Own Mess

The second Felix stormed into Crawford Enterprises, the entire reception area collectively straightened. Secretaries exchanged nervous glances. Interns practically pressed themselves against the walls. Even the security guard at the front desk subtly stiffened.

And why wouldn’t they? Felix Crawford, usually the picture of calm confidence, now walked with shoulders squared, jaw clenched, and an expression that could curdle milk.

Straight to the top floor. Straight to the lion’s den.

The second the elevator opened to the executive level, he didn’t bother knocking. He pushed the door open, causing it to slam against the wall.

"Why," Felix ground out, "did you send a woman to my house?!"

Wilson sat comfortably behind his massive mahogany desk, a cup of coffee in hand. He didn’t even flinch. If anything, he slowly set his mug down, crossed one leg over the other, and offered his son the most innocent smile Felix had ever seen—and that was saying something.

"Good morning to you too, son," Wilson said, tone entirely too calm.

"Don’t play dumb with me," Felix growled, stalking across the office until he stood right in front of the desk. His hands braced the edge, fingers splayed, as he leaned in. "Why did you send a woman to my house?!"

Wilson blinked. "Woman?"

Felix scowled deeper. "Lara Johanssen. Ring a bell?"

Recognition sparked in Wilson’s eyes, and a slow grin tugged at his lips. "Ah. Lara." He nodded as if talking about the weather. "Oscar Johanssen’s daughter. Lovely girl. Smart. Refined. Beautiful, too—"

"Dad," Felix cut him off, voice strained as his hand scraped down his face. "I don’t care if she’s the queen of England. Why was she at my house last night?" His eyes narrowed. "Didn’t we already have this conversation days ago? About how I’m not interested in any arranged marriage?"

Wilson leaned back in his chair, fingers lacing behind his head as though he had all the time in the world. "We did. I remember. Very well, actually."

"Then?" Felix gestured wildly with one hand, incredulous. "Then why?! Why is she standing at my front door at ten o’clock at night with a suitcase, claiming she’s my future fiancée?!"

Wilson laughed under his breath, shaking his head like a parent amused by a child’s tantrum. "Relax, Felix. It wasn’t me."

Felix blinked. "What?"

Wilson lifted a hand, palm facing up. "I didn’t send her. Months ago, Oscar and I made an agreement—back when you were... what, twenty?" He waved it off. "It was more of a friendly ’what if’ scenario. We both joked, said it’d be wonderful if our kids ended up together. But it wasn’t formal. Nothing legal. I told Oscar it wasn’t going to happen after you made your stance very clear."

Felix stared. His hands slowly dropped from the desk. "You’re serious?"

"Very." Wilson’s lips twitched. "Seems like Lara didn’t take the hint, though. My guess? She convinced herself it was more than just talk. Took matters into her own hands."

Felix dragged his hands down his face again with an exhausted groan. "Fantastic. So because you and your buddy thought it’d be cute to pair us like prize poodles, I’m the one cleaning up the mess now?"

Wilson spread his hands, utterly unapologetic. "That’s parenting, son. You’re welcome."

Felix glared, pacing in front of the desk now. "God..." He raked his hands through his hair. "Do you realize how awkward that was? She showed up at my house. With luggage. And—get this—when I told her to get a hotel, she practically pleaded like a kicked puppy about how she was too tired, it was too late, hotels were full—throwing every logical excuse at me." He groaned. "And I... I let her stay."

Wilson’s brows shot up, grinning now. "Did you?"

"Don’t. Just—don’t read into it," Felix snapped, stabbing a finger at him. "I slept in my own damn room, and she took the guest room."

Wilson chuckled, crossing his arms. "Still... She must be persistent."

"She is. Annoyingly so." Felix groaned, scrubbing the back of his neck. "I dropped her off at a hotel first thing this morning before coming here. She’s probably unpacking her ten thousand suitcases as we speak."

Wilson hummed, amused. "If she’s anything like her father, she won’t give up easily."

"Great. Just great." Felix threw his hands up. "Why does this stuff keep happening to me? One problem after another."

Wilson tilted his head slightly, observing his son. "You know... some men would be flattered."

"Well, some men aren’t me." Felix exhaled heavily. "I’ve got enough on my plate without some... random woman barging into my life, thinking she’s about to get a ring on her finger."

Wilson smirked, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "Random woman, huh?" He arched a brow. "Are you sure it’s just that? Or..."

Felix shot him a flat, warning look. "No. Don’t even start."

Wilson chuckled. "Fine. Fine. I’ll stay out of it." He leaned back again, tapping a finger against his chin. "Though... you should probably handle this sooner rather than later. Make it clear to her—before she starts picking out curtains."

Felix groaned. "Don’t remind me."

His father was right. He was so focused on getting to his father first to confront him that he forgot to talk things through with that woman first.

Wilson grinned. "Look at it this way—at least it wasn’t me barging into your life this time."

Felix laughed dryly. "Small mercies."

Wilson glanced at his watch. "You better go. The longer you wait, the more suitcases she’ll unpack."

Felix sighed, adjusting his cuffs. "Yeah. I know."

He walked toward the door, then paused, resting his hand on the knob.

"Dad," he said without turning around, "next time... no more matchmaking. Ever."

Wilson chuckled behind him. "No promises, son."

Felix rolled his eyes and pulled the door open.

As he stepped into the elevator, one thought ran through his head on repeat.

Gah... I really need to clean up this mess. Why does it always feel like problems are lining up at my door one after another...