Chapter 60 Moody Liam
RORY POV
"You've been spending way too much time with Daddy. I can't even remember the last time you slept in my wing..." Liam whined, his lower lip poking out as he pointedly ignored me.
He was officially holding a grudge, and he was being incredibly loud about it without saying much at all.
"Don't be so dramatic, Liam. We spent the entire afternoon together yesterday," | reminded him, reaching out to ruffle his dark hair. He ducked my hand like it was a fly he wanted to swat, his focus locked on his easel in the center of the drawing room. His little nose was flared in that silent, brooding anger that made him look exactly like a shrunken-down version of his father.
He still wouldn’t look at me. Just kept stabbing his paintbrush at the paper with his nose flared in pure six-year-old anger. “For three hours. Just three measly hours.”
Looks like someone had been counting.
I pulled out a chair and sat right in front of his mess of ruined drawings. “Let me make it up to you with cookies, okay? Fresh, warm ones. And I promise we’ll spend real time together after.”
“No.” He shrugged, not even glancing up. “You’re just going to burn the whole house down if you bake for me.”
I gasped, offended. "I could try! And hey, don't blame me for being busy-blame your daddy.
He's the one busy chaining me and cuffing me and punishing me when I could be spending all my time with my precious Liam."
Liam's head shot up instantly. The paintbrush slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the hardwood and splattering black oil across the rug. He scrambled out of his seat and grabbed my wrists, his small face tight with panic as he searched for bruises. "He punished you? Did he hurt you?"
My heart melted at how protective he was. But how was I supposed to explain that the “punishment” had involved me on my knees with his father’s cock down my throat until I was choking and crying? Definitely not that kind of hurt.
“No, sweetheart, he didn’t hurt me. In fact… he was nice.” My cheeks burned as the words left my mouth.
"But you said he punished you." He stared at me, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
"He didn't punish me like that..."
"Rory, you're such a liar," he said, shaking his head and climbing back into his chair with a huff.
“You’re being too mean to me, when D—” I cut myself off mid-sentence when I heard soft sniffles and muffled sounds coming from the small side room off the drawing room.
“Is someone here with you?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Aunty Viviane,” he answered without looking up from his painting.
“What? Is she crying?” My stomach dropped.
“Yeah. She’s been crying for over two hours now.”
He said it so casually, as if someone having a breakdown in the next room was just part of the background noise.
"And you just let her?" | asked, horrified.
"Am I supposed to pat her head and tell her I'm sorry?" He deadpanned, looking at me with those cold, blue Miller eyes.
"Yes! That's exactly what you're supposed to do!" I practically yelled.
Liam just shrugged. "Rory, stop worrying.
She's a big girl. She can handle herself."
Are they sure this boy is only six? How did he turn into a mini version of Alexander so fast?
I walked over to the small door and tried the handle. Locked. It wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I twisted.
"Vivienne? Open the door, please," | said, my voice rising with panic.
"Go away, Rory! I want to be alone. Just go back to your toddler!" she shouted from inside, her voice thick and hitched with snot.
Liam's head snapped up at the word toddler.
He directed a glare so sharp at that door I was surprised the wood didn't start smoking.
"I'm not leaving until you open up!" | yelled back, banging my fist against the frame.
After a few minutes of me threatening to call a locksmith-or worse, her brother-the lock finally clicked. Vivienne opened the door, and my heart shattered.
She looked completely ruined.
Her sleek bob was a wild mess, strands sticking to her tear-streaked face. Thick tears kept streaming down her cheeks, and the mucus in her nose was so heavy it made her sniffle wetly every few seconds. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She looked nothing like the fierce, put-together Viviane I knew.
“What happened, Vi?” I asked, panic rising in my chest as I stepped inside.
The moment the question left my mouth, fresh tears welled up and spilled over. She started crying uncontrollably, shoulders shaking, hands covering her face.
“It’s Luke…” she choked out between sobs.