Chapter 105 One Hundred And Five
Kennedy stayed longer than he intended.
That in itself unsettled him.
He had told himself he would ensure Antonia was comfortable, confirm the security measures, review the building protocols one last time, and then leave them to settle in privately. Logical. Efficient. Controlled.
Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of the living room nearly an hour later, jacket folded neatly over the back of a chair, sleeves of his dress shirt rolled once at the wrist.
Antonia moved through the apartment with quiet purpose, unpacking small essentials first—the baby’s blankets, bottles, a framed photo Lucy had slipped into her carry-on at the last minute. It was a picture of Antonia during her pregnancy, laughing at something off-camera. Radiant. Unaware of how complicated everything would become.
Kennedy noticed it.
He noticed everything.
“You can put that on the console table,” he said, gesturing toward a sleek oak surface beneath the windows.
She paused, then gave a faint smile. “Thank you.”
The baby had finally fallen into a deeper sleep inside the crib.
Antonia walked into the nursery to check on him again.
She didn’t know Kennedy had followed her halfway down the hallway before stopping.
He watched her through the partially open door.
The way she leaned over the crib.
The way her fingers lightly brushed the baby’s chest, as if confirming he was real.
The softness in her expression.
It did something dangerous to him.
Something that cracked open the disciplined armor he had worn.
This wasn’t an arrangement anymore.
It wasn’t a negotiation.
It wasn’t a solution to a corporate problem or a social inconvenience.
It was a family.
However fractured. However undefined.
Antonia turned and nearly collided with him.
“Oh.”
He stepped back immediately. “I apologize.”
“You keep doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Apologizing for existing in the same space as me.”
His jaw tightened faintly. “I’m trying to be respectful.”
“I don’t need distance,” she said quietly.
He studied her face.
“You may not,” he replied. “But I do.”
There was honesty in it. Not coldness. Not rejection.
Restraint.
She held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded. “I understand.”
He wasn’t sure she did.
They returned to the living area. The sun had shifted lower, casting amber light across the floors. The city outside looked softer from twelve stories up. Less sharp. Less ruthless.
Kennedy retrieved his coat.
“I’ll let you rest,” he said.
Her eyes flickered briefly, something unreadable. “You don’t have to go.”
“I do.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
It was easier to let her assume that.
He moved toward the door, then hesitated.
“Security will rotate every twelve hours. You won’t notice them unless there’s an issue.”
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything—”
“I know.”
A small silence.
He reached for the handle, then paused again.
“Antonia.”
“Yes?”
“I did not end things with Sofia for you.”
There it was.
Clear. Direct. Controlled.
Her expression didn’t change, but something behind her eyes did.
“I didn’t think you did,” she replied evenly.
“I ended it because it was not...”
“You don't need to explain to me,” she cut in.
His gaze sharpened.
“I want to,” he said, voice low, “you're a part of my life...”
Her breath caught faintly at the weight of that.
He opened the door.
“I’ll call tomorrow,” he said.
Then he was gone.
Across the street, partially concealed behind the tinted windows of a silver sedan parked beneath a row of trees, Sofia watched everything.
She had followed their car from the airport, keeping a careful distance. Close enough not to lose them. Far enough not to be obvious.
She hadn’t meant to follow him at first.
Not consciously.
She had gone to the airport for an entirely different reason. A friend of hers arriving. A coincidence.
But then she saw him.
Standing at arrivals.
Waiting.
Not for her.
For Antonia.
And his son.
The image had burned into her mind.
She had heard whispers, of course. Rumors inside Kennedy’s corporate circle that he had got a luxury apartment for Antonia and her baby.
But what hurt her more was the look in his eyes when Antonia stepped through those terminal doors.
Sofia had never seen him look at her that way.
Not once.
He had been attentive. Polite. Intimate even.
But never… undone.
She gripped the steering wheel now as she watched the high-rise building entrance.
When Kennedy emerged an hour later, she sat lower in her seat instinctively.
He didn’t look around.
He walked directly to his car, movements composed, expression unreadable.
But she noticed something subtle.
He paused before getting in.
Just briefly.
His gaze lifted toward the twelfth floor.
Toward a specific section of glass balconies.
Sofia followed his line of sight.
That was where she was.
Antonia.
With his child.
Jealousy wasn’t a sharp emotion.
It was slow.
Thick.
Poisonous.
It filled her chest steadily until breathing felt difficult.
He had ended things with her.
But had assured he wasn't going back to Antonia.
He lied.
She watched his car pull away now.
Watched until it disappeared into traffic.
Then her gaze returned to the building.
To the twelfth floor.
To the woman that had replaced her.
Her nails dug into her palm.
He had never looked at her the way he looked at Antonia.
But she could change that.
Or she could destroy the alternative.
Her gaze lifted again to the building.
Twelve floors.
One woman.
One child.
A faint smile curved her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
If Kennedy believed proximity changed judgment, he was right.
Because proximity also created vulnerability.
And Antonia had just made herself very vulnerable.
Sofia started the engine.
She didn’t drive away immediately.
Instead, she memorized the building entrance. The security desk. The side street. The underground parking ramp.
She noticed the cameras.
Counted them.
She was not impulsive.
Jealousy might fuel her, but strategy would guide her.
She placed the car into drive at last.
As she pulled away from the curb, her mind was already calculating.
If she couldn’t be the woman standing beside him in that apartment—
She would ensure no one else stood there peacefully either.
High above, unaware of the storm forming below, Antonia stood by the window with her sleeping son in her arms.
She looked down at the city lights flickering on one by one.
She didn’t see the silver sedan turning the corner.
She didn’t feel the eyes that had studied her.
All she felt was the quiet weight of the baby against her chest.
And the echo of Kennedy’s voice in her mind.
You're a part of my life.
She closed her eyes.
Not knowing that somewhere in the darkening streets below, someone had just decided that existence was unacceptable.