My Homeless Billionaire-Husband - Chapter #2 - Free To Read

Brian adjusted the collar of his faded coat, the frigid morning air cutting through the layers like a knife. The steps of City Central Hospital were already bustling—nurses arriving for shifts, patients being wheeled in, the occasional delivery truck idling near the loading docks.

He’d positioned himself at the perfect vantage point, sitting on the cold concrete wall just outside the employee entrance. It was where hospital staff often stopped for a smoke or a few minutes of quiet before their day began. It was also where Brian’s carefully constructed routine made him nearly invisible.

For three months, he’d lived as Greg McAllister. His scruffy beard, secondhand clothes, and habit of muttering to himself ensured no one paid him much mind. People were content to drop spare change in his coffee cup or ignore him altogether.

Until her.

The first time she stopped, Brian hadn’t even noticed her approach. He’d been focused on jotting notes in the margin of a crumpled newspaper, tracking patterns of deliveries.

A disposable cup of coffee appeared in his peripheral vision. When he looked up, the woman holding it smiled, her pale blue scrubs and messy ponytail framing a face that seemed out of place in a hospital rush.

“Morning,” she said, extending the cup.

Brian hesitated. His instincts told him to refuse, to maintain his anonymity, but the look in her eyes was different from the pitying glances he was used to. This was curiosity.

“Thanks,” he muttered, accepting the coffee.

She lingered for a moment. “Don’t mention it.”

And then she was gone, vanishing into the maze of hospital corridors.

The next morning, she brought another cup.

“Don’t get used to it,” she said with a smirk, handing it to him.

Brian studied her more closely this time. Her ID badge dangled from the pocket of her white coat: Dr. Madelyn Crawford.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” she replied, leaning against the wall beside him. “You just look like you could use a decent cup of coffee.”

“I could also use a million bucks, but I don’t see anyone handing that out,” he shot back.

Her laugh surprised him—bright, unguarded. “Fair enough.”

By the end of the week, their exchanges had become a routine. Every morning, she arrived with a cup of coffee and a few minutes to spare. They started with small talk—weather, the chaos of hospital life—but it wasn’t long before the conversation turned deeper.

Madelyn shared snippets of her life: her grueling shifts, her frustration with hospital politics, her upcoming wedding to Nathan Hayes, a “perfect on paper” match that she seemed hesitant to gush about.

Brian listened carefully, parsing through her words for anything that might connect to Morrison’s operation. At first, he assumed she was just another overworked doctor, but the more she talked, the more he realized there was more to her story.

Her family was a recurring theme, mentioned with equal parts affection and unease.

“The Crawfords are... complicated,” she said one morning, her tone guarded. “Let’s just say we don’t all agree on how money should be earned or used.”

That comment lingered in Brian’s mind. He made a mental note to dig deeper later, though he had no idea at the time just how deep her ties to Morrison ran.

One particularly cold evening, Madelyn found him still sitting outside the hospital after her shift ended. She carried a takeout bag instead of her usual coffee.

“You’re still here?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Brian shrugged. “Where else would I be?”

She hesitated, then handed him the bag. “It’s leftover stir-fry from the cafeteria. Not great, but better than nothing.”

He stared at the bag for a moment before taking it. “Why are you doing this?”

Madelyn tilted her head, considering the question. “I don’t know. You remind me of someone.”

“Yeah? Who?”

“My brother,” she admitted softly. “He... well, he made some bad choices. Ended up in a bad place.”

Brian nodded, sensing the rawness in her voice. “Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replied, shaking it off. “Anyway, eat. I’ve gotta go.”

As she walked away, Brian realized how much he looked forward to these moments. She wasn’t part of his mission, and yet he couldn’t deny the flicker of warmth her presence brought.

Their conversations grew more personal as the weeks passed. Madelyn often joined him on the hospital steps, sipping her own coffee as they talked. She opened up about her doubts regarding her upcoming wedding.

“Nathan’s a good guy,” she said one morning, her tone more convincing than her expression. “Smart, charming... on paper, we’re perfect.”

Brian smirked. “But?”

She exhaled, a puff of white mist in the cold air. “I don’t know. I guess I just wonder if ‘perfect’ is enough.”

“Perfect’s overrated,” Brian replied, thinking of Emily. She hadn’t been perfect, but she’d been everything he needed.

Madelyn gave him a curious look. “You speak from experience?”

“Something like that.”

He deflected with practiced ease, steering the conversation back to her. But later, in the quiet of his makeshift shelter, her question lingered. He hadn’t thought about Emily in weeks, too consumed by his mission. Yet now, the memory of her laugh, her determination, came rushing back.

One night, Brian spotted Madelyn leaving the hospital later than usual, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. She caught sight of him and stopped.

“Long shift?” he asked.

“Seventeen hours,” she said, rubbing her temples. “And I’ve got another tomorrow.”

“Sounds brutal.”

“It is.” She sank onto the steps beside him, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I guess it’s worth it.”

“For what?”

Madelyn hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ground. “For something good to come out of all this,” she said finally. “I can’t change my family, but I can try to make up for it.”

Her words hit Brian harder than he expected. He studied her profile, the way the faint glow of the streetlights caught in her hair. For the first time in months, he felt something other than anger driving him—a faint, unfamiliar pull toward the woman sitting beside him.

“You’re different,” he said before he could stop himself.

Madelyn turned to him, surprised. “Different how?”

“Most people wouldn’t bother,” he said, gesturing to the coffee cup she’d given him. “But you do.”

She smiled, a small, tired smile. “Maybe I just have bad judgment.”

Brian chuckled, the sound foreign to his ears. “Maybe.”

The weeks bled into each other, and Brian found himself looking forward to her visits more than he cared to admit. She was a distraction, yes, but also a reminder of the world beyond his mission—a world he hadn’t allowed himself to think about since Emily’s death.

Still, he couldn’t afford to lose focus. Every morning, after Madelyn disappeared into the hospital, he went back to work, studying the deliveries, tracking patterns, piecing together Morrison’s network. He told himself she was just another part of the cover—a reason to stay in one place without raising suspicion.

But deep down, he knew that wasn’t entirely true.

And that scared him.