Page 120 of My Brother's Billionaire Best Friends

Gavin glances at me in the mirror. “Yeah.”

Harrison nods. “Better now.”

Jack squeezes my hand. “Let’s never do that again.”

“Agreed.”

We’re halfway to the street when something tugs at the edge of my brain. “Wait,” I say slowly. “Earlier, Gavin—you said something about your mom buying buildings.”

He tenses.

“Like she’s buying buildings. Like that’s a thing. Why did you say it like that?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

I sit forward slightly. “Gavin.”

“I was going to tell you.”

“Tell me what? Is there aMrs. Butters?”

Jack turns slightly in his seat, watching him now. Harrison raises an eyebrow. Gavin sighs. “Okay, yes. There’s something I didn’t tell you. But it was to protect you.”

I cross my arms. “That excuse never works. Ask literally any pregnant woman.”

“She tried to buy your building,” he says quickly, like if he says it fast it’ll sting less. “The one you and the kids live in. She planned to evict the entire thing and gut it into a parking lot.”

My jaw drops. “What.”

“She was pissed and vengeful and bored. It was a tantrum.”

“You call that a tantrum?”

“She didn’t succeed,” Harrison adds. “It’s over.”

Jack frowns. “We handled it. Quietly. That’s why we didn’t tell you.”

I stare at them, stunned. “You didn’t think I deserved to know someone tried to evict my entire family?”

“We didn’t want you to worry,” Gavin says, his voice gentle.

“And you know we’d stop it,” Jack adds.

“And we did,” Harrison finishes.

I let out a breath. They’re all watching me now, like they’re waiting for a meltdown. I’m not going to give them one. But I am going to savor this moment.

I let the silence stretch just long enough to make them sweat.

Gavin’s gaze flicks to mine in the mirror. Jack’s fingers twitch where they rest near my hand, bracing for whatever comes next. Harrison exhales slowly through his nose like he’s mentally preparing to say, “I told you we should’ve warned her,” before I throw them all out of the car.

But the truth is, I’m not angry. I was—briefly—but underneath that sharp flash of outrage is something deeper. Something steadier. I’m touched. I’m honestly, ridiculously touched.

Because they didn’t keep it from me out of carelessness. They did it out of instinct. Out of protection. And maybe that would’ve driven me crazy in the past, but now? Now I understand the difference.

They weren’t trying to sideline me. They were trying to shoulder the weight with me—quietly, carefully, and without demanding credit.

I look at all three of them, let the corners of my mouth lift slowly. “That’s really condescending,” I say, my voice light, even as my heart swells. “And also, really sweet of you big jerks.”