Chapter 228: Shelter from the Storm
Chapter 228: Shelter from the Storm
The thunder still echoed in Sophia's ears as she clutched Julia and Simon closer. Both children trembled against her, their small bodies shaking with each distant rumble.
Lucas exhaled sharply, his frustration evident. But one look at the kids' pale faces made him swallow whatever retort he'd been preparing.
He turned to Sophia, ignoring Zachary entirely. "Are you sure about this?"
Sophia met his eyes, reading the concern there—and the reluctance to leave her alone with Zachary. "We'll be fine. You should get to safety too."
"Sophia—"
"Please, Lucas." Her voice was firm despite the exhaustion weighing on her. "I need to get the kids somewhere safe. That's all that matters right now."
Lucas's jaw worked. He glanced at the children, then back at her. "Call me when the storm passes."
"I will."
He walked away without another word. Sophia watched his taillights disappear into the rain, feeling strangely hollow.
Then Zachary's hand was at her back. "Let's go."
She wanted to shake him off but another crack of thunder made Julia whimper, and suddenly nothing else mattered.
---
The penthouse was nothing like she'd expected. Warm hardwood floors, a gas fireplace already lit, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the storm-lashed city, comfortable, lived-in..
"Whoa," Simon breathed, momentarily distracted from his fear.
Julia still clung to Sophia, but her eyes were wide as she took in the space.
Zachary crouched down to their level. "How about some hot chocolate? I have the good kind with marshmallows."
Julia looked up at Sophia uncertainly.
"Don't let him in. Don't let the kids get attached again."
But she was so tired of being the villain in her children's eyes.
"That sounds nice," Sophia heard herself say.
---
In the kitchen, Zachary moved with easy confidence, pulling out ingredients and—Sophia noticed with a painful jolt—several varieties of the herbal tea she used to drink.
He still kept it stocked.
She focused on settling the children at the counter, trying not to think about what that meant.
"Can we see the view?" Simon asked.
"When the storm calms down," Zachary promised. He poured hot chocolate into mugs decorated with cartoon characters.
Sophia's defenses wavered.
"Do you live here all alone?" Julia asked, accepting her mug.
Zachary's eyes flicked to Sophia. "Yes. Just me."
"That's sad. Houses should have families in them."
Sophia's throat constricted. "Julia—"
"She's right," Zachary said quietly. "It is too big for one person."
The silence stretched uncomfortably. Simon slurped his cocoa, then looked up with brutal childhood honesty. "How come you're not at that lady's house? The one who called you before."
Of course they'd ask.
Sophia braced herself for excuses, for lies—
"Because you needed me more," Zachary said simply. "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Julia studied him solemnly. "Do you promise?"
"I promise."
Sophia couldn't listen anymore. She stood abruptly. "I should check the weather updates."
She retreated to the living room before he could respond, before the softness in his voice could burrow any deeper under her skin.
---
She stood at the window, arms wrapped tight around herself, watching the city disappear under the storm. In the reflection, she could see Zachary and the children in the kitchen—Julia giggling at something he'd said, Simon leaning closer with wide eyes.
The sound twisted like a knife in her chest.
"This is what I wanted to give them. What I convinced myself he could never be."
Her phone buzzed. Lucas: "Made it home safe. You okay?"
"We're fine, thank you."
His response was immediate: "Call if you need anything."
She pocketed her phone as Zachary appeared beside her with fresh tea. Earl Grey. Exactly how she used to take it.
"You remembered," she said before she could stop herself.
"I remember everything."
She didn't know how to respond. They stood in silence, watching the rain, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down between them.
Behind them, Julia squealed: "Simon says there's a game room!"
"There is," Zachary confirmed. "With an arcade machine and a ball pit."
Despite everything, Sophia's lips twitched. "A ball pit?"
"I had it installed last month." He still wasn't looking at her. "Thought maybe... if you ever brought them by..."
"Don't, don't do this to me, don't make me hope."
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then darkness.
---
Julia's scream pierced the air. Simon started crying.
"I'm right here." Zachary's voice cut through the panic, completely steady. "Nobody move."
Emergency lighting kicked in—soft blue along the baseboards. Not pitch black, but dim enough to be frightening for children.
"We have a generator," Zachary continued, already moving toward them. "We're completely safe."
He scooped Julia up as if she weighed nothing. His free hand found Simon's shoulder. "Want to see something cool? The game room has glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."
"Really?"
"Really. Come on."
Sophia followed them down the hall, her emotions a tangled mess. The game room's ceiling glowed with constellations, and both children tilted their heads back in wonder.
"Find the Big Dipper," Zachary challenged gently.
They immediately started searching, fear forgotten.
He turned to Sophia, lowering his voice. "There are candles if you need more light. Battery lamps in the bedrooms."
"You really prepared for everything." She couldn't keep the wonder from her voice.
"I wasn't going to let anything happen to you." A pause. "To them."
"To you." he'd said it. Not just the children.
Her.
"Zachary—"
His phone buzzed, harsh and insistent. His expression shifted immediately—hardened into something cold and concerned.
"I need to take this." He was already moving toward the hall. "Can you...?"
"I've got them."
He disappeared into his bedroom, door clicking shut.
Sophia settled between her children, pointing out stars, keeping her voice light. But she tracked the sound of his voice through the wall—low, urgent, almost angry.
The call lasted five minutes. Then another came. Then another.
By the time she got the children to bed—Julia and Simon tucked into a guest room that looked like something from a fairy tale—Zachary was on his fourth call.
She emerged to find him at the window, phone pressed to his ear.
"I don't care what it takes. Handle it. Now."
His voice was cold. Clipped. Nothing like the gentle tone he'd used with the children.
When he ended the call, his posture remained rigid.
Sophia found herself crossing the room. "What's wrong?"
He turned, surprise flickering across his features. "Nothing you need to worry about."
"That's not an answer."
"It's work. Just... complications." But his jaw was tight, his eyes troubled in a way that made her stomach drop.
"In the middle of a typhoon?"
"Business doesn't stop for weather." A failed attempt at a smile. "The kids asleep?"
"Zachary, if something's wrong—"
"It's fine. I've got it under control."
Another buzz. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath.
"I need to make another call." Already moving away. "Make yourself comfortable."
The bedroom door closed. Firmly.
Sophia stood alone in the candlelit living room, listening to the storm outside and urgent murmurs from behind the closed door.
Something was very wrong.
And he was shutting her out completely.
She wrapped her arms around herself, exhaustion and confusion warring with a growing sense of dread she couldn't name.
Whatever was happening on those calls—it wasn't just work.
Outside, lightning split the sky.