Chapter 70 70
The first pale light of morning filtered through the heavy curtains of the study.
Lucas had fallen asleep on the sofa sometime after 3 a.m., still fully dressed, one arm draped protectively over Mave’s small body.
The boy had curled into his side, thumb in his mouth, breathing slow and even.
Lucas woke first—neck stiff, eyes gritty, the events of the night crashing back in waves.
He looked down at the sleeping child and felt something ache deep in his chest.
Mave stirred a moment later. His eyes fluttered open, confused for half a second—then wide with recognition. He sat up fast, looking around the unfamiliar room, then back at Lucas.
“Daddy?” His voice was tiny, still thick with sleep.
“Hey, buddy.” Lucas sat up slowly, forcing a small smile. “Morning.”
Mave’s face crumpled almost immediately.
His bottom lip trembled.
Big tears welled up and spilled over.
“Daddy… I need my mommy.”
The words came out in a broken whisper, then louder, hiccupping. “I want Mommy. Where’s Mommy? She always makes breakfast and sings the silly song…”
Lucas’s throat tightened. He reached out, pulling Mave into his lap without thinking.
“Son… Daddy’s here,” he said quietly, rubbing slow circles on the boy’s back. “We don’t need Mommy right now, okay? Daddy’s got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Mave shook his head against Lucas’s chest, crying harder.
“But I want her Mommy…”
Lucas exhaled shakily.
He stood, lifting Mave with him, the boy’s legs wrapping around his waist like they’d done it a thousand times.
“Wait here,” Lucas murmured, even though he was the one moving. “Daddy’s got a surprise for you. Come with me.”
Mave sniffled, wiping his nose on his pajama sleeve. He clung to Lucas’s neck, still crying softly, as Lucas carried him down the quiet hallway toward the newly delivered room.
The door was already ajar—staff had worked through the night like ghosts. Lucas pushed it open with his foot.
“Look, son,” he said, voice gentle but proud. “This is your room.”
The space had been transformed.
An automatic bedtime storyteller device sat on the nightstand, ready to play stories with the push of a button. A giant brown teddy bear waited on the pillow like an old friend.
Mave’s crying slowed. His eyes went wide, taking it all in.
“Wow…” he whispered. “It’s like my comic…”
Lucas set him down gently on the rug.
“See? All for you. You can play here, read here, sleep here. It’s yours.”
Mave took one hesitant step forward, touching the teddy bear’s paw like he was afraid it would disappear. Then he turned back, eyes still shiny with tears.
“But… Mommy is missing.”
Lucas knelt to his level, forcing the words out even though they tasted wrong.
“No worries, buddy. You’ve got a mommy here now.”
Mave blinked, confused.
Lucas stood, took Mave’s hand, and led him back into the hallway, then down toward the east wing—Olivia’s suite.
He knocked once—then pushed the door open without waiting.
Olivia was sitting at her vanity, still in last night’s silk robe, makeup half-done, eyes puffy from crying and drinking. She looked up sharply, startled, then froze when she saw the small boy clutching Lucas’s hand.
Lucas didn’t hesitate.
He stepped forward, pulling Mave with him.
“Liv,” he said, voice flat. “This is Mave. Mave—this is your new mommy.”
Mave stared up at Olivia.
Her face was caked in foundation that hadn’t been blended properly, eyeliner smudged from tears, lipstick faded but still bold.
Mave shrank back against Lucas’s leg, eyes huge.
Olivia forced a smile—too wide.
“Hello… sweetheart.”
Mave shook his head slowly, voice tiny and trembling.
“Your makeup is scary,” he whispered. “I want my mommy.”
The words landed like a slap.
Olivia’s smile cracked.
Her hands clenched on the vanity edge.
Lucas felt the air leave the room.
He looked down at Mave—then at Olivia—then back at his son.
Mave tugged on Lucas’s hand, eyes filling again.
“I want my mommy,” he repeated, louder this time, voice cracking. “Please, Daddy.”
Lucas swallowed hard.
For the first time since last night, the certainty he’d carried like armor began to fracture.
He scooped Mave up again, holding him close.
“Okay,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else. “Okay, buddy.”
He turned and walked out without another word to Olivia.
The door clicked shut behind them.
In the hallway, Mave buried his face in Lucas’s neck, small body shaking with quiet sobs.
Lucas cleared his throat, trying to sound normal—trying to sound like a dad who knew what he was doing.
“Hey, buddy,” he started, keeping his voice soft. “You know, today’s a big day. We’re gonna get you ready for school. You’ll like it. There are kids your age, lots of toys, stories, snacks… you’ll meet your new school friends. They’ll probably love comics too. Maybe you can show them your Spider-Man one.”
Mave looked up slowly, bottom lip still trembling.
“But… will Mommy be there?” he asked in a small voice.
Lucas’s chest tightened. He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Not today, son. But Daddy will be right outside when school ends. I’ll pick you up myself. Promise.”
Mave hugged the teddy tighter and didn’t answer.
Lucas stood and called down the hall.
“Nanny Claire? Can you come help get him dressed?”
A moment later, a kind-faced woman in her late forties appeared—Claire, the longtime household nanny Eleanor had quietly summoned at dawn. She carried a neatly folded set of new clothes: soft blue jeans, a Spider-Man t-shirt, little sneakers still in the box.
“Good morning, Master Mave,” she said warmly, kneeling to his level. “Let’s get you ready for your big adventure, shall we?”
Mave shrank back against Lucas’s leg.
Claire smiled patiently and held up the t-shirt.
“Look, it’s your favorite hero. Would you like to wear this?”
Mave shook his head hard.
“I want Mommy to help me dress. She sings the getting-ready song. She does the buttons funny.”
Claire glanced at Lucas, who gave a small, helpless nod—keep going.
She tried again, gentle.
“Okay, sweetheart. How about we put on the shirt first? I’ll be quick, I promise.”
Mave’s face crumpled. He started to cry again—quiet, hiccupping sobs.
“No… I want Mommy… please…”
Claire tried to lift the hem of his pajama
top, just to start changing him. Mave twisted away, arms flailing, burying his face in Lucas’s thigh.
“I don’t want you! I want my mommy!”