Chapter 21 Twenty-one
Sebastian’s POV
The boy’s voice cracks the lobby’s sterile hum like a firework—“Mum!”—high-pitched, thrilled, and utterly unfiltered. Heads turn, but the sound cuts straight to the heart of every parent in a hundred-yard radius. A woman bursts through the automatic doors, coat flapping half-buttoned, dark curls exploding from a messy bun, eyes wild with the kind of panic only a missing child can ignite. She’s clutching a phone like a lifeline, knuckles white, voice already breaking.
“Oh, my Jamie!” She drops to her knees on the polished floor, arms flung wide. “I was so worried sick about you! Where did you run off to, Jamie? I turned around for two seconds to pay for parking, and you were gone!”
Jamie wriggles free from Lena’s gentle grip and barrels into his mother, nearly toppling her. She scoops him up in one fluid motion, burying her face in his curls, kissing the crown of his head over and over like she’s trying to imprint safety into his skin. “Never, ever do that again, you hear me? Mummy’s heart can’t take it. I thought I’d lost you forever.”
Jamie pulls back, cherry-red popsicle stick clamped between his teeth, tongue flashing neon. “I got lost by the big fish tank, Mum! I was crying really bad, but Lena found me!” He waves the melting treat like a victory flag. “She gave me this, and we played I-Spy till we found the front desk. She said the security guard looks like Captain America, and he does! She’s a superhero!”
The mother—Sarah, her name tag reads—turns to Lena, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, lower lip trembling. “Thank you. God, thank you. I thought—” Her voice cracks like thin ice. She shifts Jamie to her hip, extending a shaking hand. “I’m Sarah. You’re an angel. I owe you coffee, dinner, and my firstborn—well, maybe not that one; he’s a handful.”
Lena laughs, soft and genuine, taking the hand with both of hers. “Really, it’s nothing. He’s such a cute kid—total charmer. Kept calling the security guard ‘Captain America’ and tried to recruit him for a ‘mission.’” She ruffles Jamie’s curls, earning a gap-toothed grin. “Be a good boy, okay? No more stressing, Mummy. Superheroes stick with their teams.”
Jamie salutes with the popsicle, sticky red dripping onto Sarah’s coat. “Yes, ma’am! Promise!”
Sarah laughs through her tears, hugging him tighter, the sound wet and relieved. “I don’t know how to repay you. Seriously.” She mouths "thank you" again, eyes shining, as she hitches Jamie higher and heads for the exit. The boy waves over her shoulder, popsicle sword raised high. “Bye, Lena! Save the world!”
Lena waves back, smile lingering, then crouches to tie a nurse’s shoelace that’s come undone, murmuring, “Can’t have you tripping, superhero.” The nurse thanks her, flustered. Lena helps an elderly man with his walker next, steadying it as he shuffles toward radiology. Small, effortless kindnesses, woven into her like breathing.
I watch from the shadowed archway of the VIP corridor, hands buried in my pockets, an unfamiliar warmth blooming in my chest—slow, steady, dangerous. For a moment, I imagine her as a mother: patient, playful, and fierce. Her cradling a dark-haired child with my eyes, laughing in sunlight, tiny hands tugging her ponytail. The image hits like a shot of 18-year-old Macallan—smooth, potent, and impossible to shake.
I blink hard, jaw clenching. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m forty-eight, not some sentimental fool. She’s my employee. A walking HR nightmare. Yet here I am, in a hospital lobby, fantasizing about domestic bliss while my blood pressure’s about to be taken.
The conflict rages like a storm I can’t outrun. I’ve built an empire on control—boardrooms bend to my will, markets shift at my word. But Lena? She’s chaos in human form, unraveling me with a single glance. I want her—God help me, I do. Want her in ways that scorch reason.
And yet… the thought of her with someone else—some faceless “older, loaded” man—twists like a blade. I’m not proud of it. Jealousy is beneath me.
“I think you should add ‘very good with kids’ to your qualifications.”
Lena startles, spinning to face me, hazel eyes wide as saucers. “Sebastian!” Her voice pitches up, then drops, self-conscious, hands fluttering to smooth her hair. “What are you doing here?”
I step forward, hands still in my pockets, forcing nonchalance into my tone. “Annual check-up. I come every six months—bloodwork, stress test, the full interrogation. Like to stay in fighting shape.” I flex a subtle bicep under the charcoal wool; her gaze flicks down, then away, cheeks blooming pink.
She recovers, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Oh. Right. Good… good for you. Proactive. Very… CEO of you.”
I tilt my head, amused despite the war inside. “What about you? Playing superhero in pediatrics?”
She laughs, a nervous huff, glancing at the floor. “Nothing heroic. My roommate Avery’s out of town—Hamptons bartending gig. She asked me to pick up a package from a pharmacy two blocks over. I was cutting through the hospital to avoid the construction on 72nd when I heard crying. Found this little guy by the aquarium, tears everywhere, popsicle melted down his shirt. He’d followed a balloon vendor and got turned around. We retraced his steps—turns out the vendor was by the gift shop. Got him to the front desk and bought him a new popsicle to stop the meltdown. That’s it.”
I nod, impressed despite the iron grip I keep on my expression. “Not many people stop for strangers. Especially not in this city. You didn’t have to.”
She shrugs, but her eyes soften, almost shy. “Kids are easy. They just want to feel safe. And he reminded me of my little cousin—same curls, same obsession with Spider-Man.”
Silence stretches, charged like the air before a storm. Nurses bustle past with clipboards; a pager beeps overhead. Dr. Harlan’s waiting—my name’s probably flashing on his tablet. I should go. Instead, the words tumble out before my brain catches up: “Want to come in with me?”
The question hangs there, raw and reckless. Her stare is long and searching, lips parted in surprise. I’m about to backpedal—forget I asked, stupid idea, unprofessional—when she says, “Sure.”