Single Dad Texted ‘I Miss You’ to the CEO by Mistake — She Stopped and Whispered, ‘Say It Again’
He typed quickly, not looking at the name at the top of the screen, just letting the exhaustion bleed out of him.
I miss you too.
So much.
It’s been a nightmare here tonight but I’m surviving.
Can’t wait to see you.
He hit send.
The satisfying little swoosh sounded loud in the quiet apartment.
He tossed the phone onto the desk, leaned back in his ergonomic chair, and cracked his neck.
The database was finally stable.
The migration was complete.
He had saved the company from a multi-million dollar bottleneck.
He could finally sleep for three hours before Chloe woke up demanding dinosaur oatmeal.
As he reached for the power button on his monitor, his phone screen lit up with a delivery receipt.
Liam glanced at it.
The blood in his veins turned to ice.
The name at the top of the text thread didn’t say Mom.
It said Morgan Hayes – CEO (EMERGENCY).
Liam stared at the glowing rectangle.
The world seemed to drop out from beneath his chair.
He picked up the phone with trembling fingers, as if it were a live grenade.
I miss you too.
So much.
It’s been a nightmare here tonight but I’m surviving.
Can’t wait to see you.
Delivered to the billionaire owner of his company.
He jammed his finger against the message, desperately looking for an ‘unsend’ option, but it was a standard SMS.
It was gone.
It was sitting on the encrypted, thousand-dollar smartphone of a woman who fired vice presidents for typos in their quarterly reports.
Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through his exhaustion.
He stood up, pacing the small living room, stepping over the Legos.
What was he supposed to do?
Follow it up with ‘Sorry, meant for my mom’?
At 2:20 AM?
That somehow felt worse.
It felt pathetic.
It highlighted how unprofessional he was, texting executives in the middle of the night.
“Okay,” Liam muttered to the empty room.
“Okay. She’s asleep. She has her phone on Do Not Disturb. She’s a CEO. She gets a thousand emails an hour. She won’t even read it. She’ll delete it. It’s fine.”
He repeated it to himself until his breathing slowed.
He turned off his monitors, crawled into bed, and stared at the ceiling until the sun came up, dreading the morning with every fiber of his being.
The morning was a blur of burnt toast, missing left shoes, and rushing Chloe to her elementary school drop-off.
By the time Liam swiped his badge at the gleaming glass turnstiles of Hayes Logistics headquarters, he felt like a dead man walking.
His phone had remained violently silent all morning.
No angry calls from HR.
No curt emails demanding his immediate resignation.