I Told My Kids to Stop Hiring Me a Boyfriend, Then My CEO Asked for a Second Interview

POV: Lena

I was emptying Owen’s backpack to look for his weekly artwork when a folded piece of paper slipped from the bottom folder and fluttered onto the kitchen counter.

I picked it up, expecting a finger painting or a permission slip for the zoo.

Instead, bold black letters stared back at me in uneven, crooked print:

*URGENT: MOM NEEDS A BOYFRIEND (AND WE NEED A DAD).*

My stomach dropped straight through the linoleum floor.

I smoothed the crumpled page with trembling hands. Below the horrific title was a numbered list of demands: *Must know how to cook breakfast without burning it. Must never make our mom cry. Must keep chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer forever.*

And at the bottom, printed clearly beside a submission timestamp: *Sent via lena.bennett@valegroup.com.*

A cold wave of panic rushed over my skin.

I grabbed my tablet from the counter, unlocked it with a frantic swipe, and opened my work email application. My eyes darted to the sent folder.

There it was. Sent at 11:42 PM the previous night.

To *executive-inquiry@valegroup.com*.

The executive intake queue. The direct portal filtered only for high-priority corporate communications, board members, and the executive suite.

The room seemed to spin. I had spent three years building a spotless reputation at Vale Group as the quiet, reliable strategy lead who never caused a ripple of drama. And my five-year-olds had just emailed the top tier of corporate leadership asking for a romantic partner for their mother.

"Owen!" My voice came out sharper than I intended, vibrating with sheer shock. "Chloe! Benji! Get in here right now."

Pattering footsteps rushed down the hallway. The three of them appeared in the kitchen doorway, lined up side by side. Benji was clutching his stuffed green dinosaur against his chest, while Chloe immediately tucked her hands behind her back.

I held up the printed paper. "What is this?"

Owen’s eyes widened. He looked at Chloe, who bit her bottom lip.

"Did you three send this from my work account?" I demanded, holding the tablet out toward them. "Do you have any idea what you did?"

"We were just trying to help," Owen mumbled, his gaze dropping to his sneakers.

"Help?" My voice climbed an octave. "You don't send personal questionnaires through my company email! This goes to the most powerful people in my entire office. If HR sees this, I could lose my job. How did you even figure out how to do this?"

"I used the autofill," Owen whispered.

"Give me the tablet," I said, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Show me where this form is hosted. You are going to delete it right now."

Chloe suddenly stepped in front of Owen, her small chin lifting with stubborn defiance. Her dark eyes were glossy with unshed tears.

"Don't yell at him, Mommy!" she shouted, her voice shaking. "We didn't do it to be bad!"

"Chloe, this isn't a game—"

"We didn't do it because we want a dad like Leo has!" Chloe interrupted, her chest heaving as tears finally spilled over her cheeks. "We did it because of you!"

The anger in my chest froze mid-beat. "What?"

"You're always working," Chloe cried, wiping her wet face with the sleeve of her pink sweater. "You cook dinner, and you clean the bathroom, and you do the laundry until it's dark outside. And last night you were sitting in the dark crying at the empty computer because you don't have anyone to help you!"

The kitchen fell dead silent.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at my daughter, completely paralyzed.

Benji stepped forward, his lower lip trembling as he looked up at me with huge, sorrowful eyes. He reached out and tugged lightly on the hem of my skirt.

"We just want someone who brings you ice cream too, Mommy," Benji whispered. "So you don't look so tired."

The words struck me like a physical blow.

Every ounce of frustration drained out of me in an instant, replaced by a deep, aching hollow in my chest.

I had tried so hard to hide it. I smiled every morning at drop-off. I sang songs in the car. I stayed awake until midnight finishing budget forecasts so I wouldn't miss a single school play or doctor's appointment. I thought I had built a fortress around them, protecting them from the reality of how thin I was stretched.

They had seen every crack.

I dropped to my knees on the cold floor and pulled all three of them into my arms. Chloe buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing softly, while Benji wrapped his arms around my neck. Owen rested his forehead against my back, his small frame trembling.

"Oh, sweeties," I murmured, kissing the crowns of their heads. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."

I held them for a long time, listening to their quiet sniffs until their breathing steadied.

When I finally pulled back, I wiped Chloe’s cheeks with my thumbs and looked at each of them in turn.

"Listen to me, okay?" I said softly. "I know things are hard sometimes. And I know you want to help me. But a family isn't something you can fix with a website. You can't hire a man from an application form like you're choosing a babysitter."

"Why not?" Owen asked in a small, quiet voice.

"Because the world doesn't work that way," I explained gently. "You can't bring a stranger into our lives just because other kids have fathers. It isn't safe, and it isn't how relationships work. We have each other, and that is enough. Do you understand?"

Owen looked at the floor and nodded slowly. "Yes, Mommy."

"Okay," I said, exhaling a long, shaky breath as I stood up. I picked up the tablet and handed it to Owen. "Log into the survey tool and delete the form. All of it. Make sure the link is permanently closed."

Owen took the device with both hands. He tapped the screen several times, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Did you delete it?" I asked.

"Yes," Owen whispered. "The page says 'Survey Terminated.'"

I took the tablet back and checked the screen. The public URL was disabled, showing a standard 404 error page.

I closed my eyes in profound relief. It was over. Whatever automated intake system had logged the original email would flag the broken link as spam and wipe it from the executive queue. No harm done. No corporate disaster.

"Go wash your hands for dinner," I told them, managing a gentle smile. "I'm making grilled cheese."

The kids nodded quietly and shuffled down the hall toward the bathroom.

Owen hung back for a split second, glancing at me with a strange, guilty expression before turning the corner. But in the rush of preparing dinner, I pushed the suspicion aside.

I set the frying pan on the stove, feeling the heavy tension finally begin to melt from my shoulders. It was a close call, but I had caught it in time.

My phone buzzed against the countertop with a double vibration.

I picked it up, expecting a message from my department manager about the quarterly launch timeline.

Instead, a bright notification from the *Bright Stars Parent Portal* flashed across the screen.

*New Message from Mrs. Gable:*

*Hi Lena! Wonderful news! Your children’s special guest just confirmed his attendance for Friday's Family Day presentation. We have added him to the guest registry.*

I frowned, tapping the screen to open the message attachment.

Attached to the notification was a digital security clearance pass generated by the school's administrative office.

At the top of the clearance form, printed in crisp, official typography, was the guest's name:

*Guest Name: A. Vale*

*Affiliation: Vale Group - Executive Offices*

The room went icy cold.

My phone slipped an inch in my grasp as my heart slammed against my ribs.

Adrian Vale had confirmed.