Chapter 71 71
Claire immediately backed off, hands raised in surrender. She stood slowly and stepped closer to Lucas, lowering her voice so Mave wouldn’t hear every word.
“Sir… he’s very upset. He’s not ready for a stranger helping him like this. He keeps asking for his mother. It’s… difficult. He won’t let me near him long enough to even get the pajamas off.”
Lucas looked down at Mave—now full-on crying into his leg, small fists clutching the fabric of his pants. The boy’s shoulders shook with each sob.
Lucas sighed—deep, bone-tired, the sound carrying every ounce of regret he’d been shoving down since last night.
“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know.”
He crouched again, pulling Mave gently into his arms.
“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he whispered against the boy’s curls. “We’ll figure it out. No rush today. Maybe school can wait one more day.”
Mave peeked up through wet lashes.
“Really?”
“Really,” Lucas said, even though he knew delaying enrollment would only complicate things later. “We’ll call the school. Tell them you’re coming tomorrow instead. Today… today we just stay home. You, me, and the big teddy. Sound good?”
Mave nodded slowly, sniffling.
“But… can Mommy come tomorrow?”
Lucas glanced at the clock on the wall—mid-morning already. He’d spent the last hour sitting on the floor of Mave’s new room, reading the same Spider-Man comic three times in a row just to keep the boy calm.
Mave had finally stopped crying, but he still hadn’t let go of the teddy bear or stopped glancing at the door every few minutes like Blair might walk through it.
Lucas’s phone buzzed again—third call from the office in twenty minutes. An urgent board meeting he couldn’t delay any longer. He sighed, rubbing his temples.
“Hey, buddy,” he said softly, crouching in front of Mave. “Daddy has to go do some work for a little while. Just downstairs in the study, okay? I won’t be far. Nanny Claire will check on you soon, and you’ve got all your new toys. You’ll be alright?”
Mave nodded slowly, eyes big and uncertain, but he didn’t cry this time. He just hugged the teddy tighter.
“Good boy.” Lucas ruffled his curls, kissed the top of his head, and stood. “I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”
He left the door cracked open and headed downstairs, shoulders heavy with guilt he couldn’t shake.
The house was quiet—too quiet. Eleanor was out at a charity luncheon, the staff scattered on their usual rounds. Mave sat alone on the thick rug, flipping through the comic pages without really reading them, whispering to the teddy bear like it was his only friend.
Soft footsteps approached.
The door eased open wider.
Olivia stepped inside.
She’d changed—makeup reapplied perfectly now, hair smoothed, wearing a crisp white blouse and tailored pants like she was going to a meeting instead of wandering the house.
But her eyes were still red-rimmed, her smile too tight.
She closed the door behind her with a quiet click.
Mave looked up, startled. His small body tensed.
Olivia tilted her head, studying him like he was a strange pet someone had brought home without asking.
“Well, hello again, little one,” she said, voice syrupy sweet. She walked closer, heels tapping slowly on the hardwood. “You’re all alone now, aren’t you?”
Mave scooted back an inch, clutching the comic to his chest.
Olivia crouched down slowly, balancing on her heels so she was eye-level with him.
“You know,” she began, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “this isn’t really your house. You don’t belong here.”
Mave’s eyes widened. He shook his head a tiny bit.
“Oh, yes,” Olivia continued, smile never reaching her eyes. “Your mommy doesn’t even know where you are. She probably thinks you’re lost.
And Lucas?” She paused, letting the name hang. “He isn’t your real daddy. Not really. He’s just… pretending. Because he feels sorry for you. But deep down? He doesn’t want you here either.”
Mave’s lip trembled. “Daddy said—”
“Daddy says a lot of things,” Olivia cut in smoothly. “But grown-ups lie sometimes.
Especially when they don’t want a noisy little boy around. You’re loud, you cry a lot, you make messes… nobody likes that. I certainly don’t. I hate this whole kid thing. It’s messy and annoying and it ruins everything.”
She reached out and brushed a curl off his forehead—gentle, but the touch made Mave flinch.
“You should probably go back to wherever you came from,” she whispered. “Before everyone gets really mad. Before they decide you’re not welcome anymore.”
Mave’s breathing caught. Tears welled up fast.
“I—I want my mommy,” he whimpered.
Olivia stood up slowly, brushing imaginary lint from her pants.
“Then maybe you should stop being such a baby about it,” she said coolly. “Or maybe she’ll never come. Maybe she doesn’t even want you back.”
She turned toward the door, pausing with her hand on the knob.
“Think about that while you’re sitting here all alone.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Mave stared at it for a long second.
Back in the study, Lucas sat behind the wide mahogany desk, papers scattered in front of him like casualties of war.
The conference call had ended twenty minutes ago, but he hadn’t moved. His laptop screen glowed with unread emails, yet his eyes were unfocused, staring at nothing.
The house felt too quiet now and every few minutes his mind drifted upstairs to the boy’s room, wondering if Mave had stopped crying yet.
A soft knock broke the silence.
One of the security team—tall, broad-shouldered, always the same calm professionalism—stepped inside.
“Sir,” he said quietly. “There’s a woman downstairs. She’s asking to see you.”
Lucas didn’t look up.
“I’m busy. Tell her to make an appointment. She can try another week.”
The guard didn’t move.
“She insists, sir. And Mrs. Eleanor… she’s already spoken to the woman. Mrs. Brooks ordered that you see her as soon as possible.”
Lucas let out a long, tired breath. He pressed the heel of his palm hard against his forehead, rubbing as if he could push the headache—and the entire last twenty-four hours—away.
“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll be there in five.”
The bodyguard gave a single nod and left, door closing softly behind him.
Lucas leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then he pushed himself up, straightened his shirt (still the same one from yesterday), ran a hand through his hair, and headed downstairs.
Eleanor stood near the bottom of the staircase, arms folded, expression tense. She caught Lucas’s eye as he descended and gave a small, nod toward the formal sitting room off to the side.
Lucas walked past her without a word.
He pushed the double doors open.
And froze.