Morning sunlight filtered weakly through the penthouse’s tall windows, catching in the thin layer of haze that hung over the city. I could hear the faint hum of traffic below, the kind of background noise that should have been comforting. But in this house, even silence sounded expensive… and lonely.

Liam’s soft laughter broke that silence.

It was the first sound in days that made me breathe again.

He sat cross-legged on the floor near the glass wall, flipping through one of his toy cars, the kind I’d packed from home. I knelt beside him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. His brown eyes—his father’s eyes—looked up at me with a grin that melted my chest.

“Mom, is he always this quiet?” Liam asked, glancing toward the hallway where Adrian’s deep voice echoed faintly.

I hesitated. “He’s… busy. That’s how he is.”

“He doesn’t smile much,” Liam added, tilting his head. “But he gave me this.”

He held up a sleek black pen—too expensive for a child to own. Adrian must’ve handed it to him absentmindedly.

“Did he?” I said softly. “That’s… nice of him.”

Liam nodded proudly, like it was a trophy. I wanted to tell him the truth—that the man he admired barely looked at him, that this pen meant nothing—but I couldn’t. He didn’t know Adrian was his father. And I wasn’t ready for him to. Not yet.

As I straightened up, I heard a faint click—the door to Adrian’s study.

Liam brightened. “Can I talk to him?”

“Liam—”

But before I could stop him, he darted off. My heart dropped as I followed the sound of his small footsteps across the marble.

The door to Adrian’s study was half-open, the scent of rich tobacco drifting out. I froze.

Inside, Adrian sat behind his desk, a cigarette burning between his fingers. The smoke curled in lazy swirls, tracing through the air like something alive. His suit jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened—the rarest version of him I’d ever seen.

And there was Liam—standing right in front of him.

My stomach knotted.

“Hey,” Liam said shyly, clutching the pen. “You work a lot, huh?”

Adrian looked up, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—a soft recognition, maybe. But it vanished almost immediately.

“Work keeps the world spinning,” he said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

Liam shrugged, unfazed. “Mom said I can play here if I don’t touch things.”

“Hmm.” Adrian took another drag, the ember glowing red. “And what happens if you do?”

“I’ll get grounded,” Liam said with a grin.

Adrian’s mouth curved faintly—something between amusement and disbelief. “At least your mother teaches obedience.”

That was when I entered.

“Adrian!”

My voice sliced through the air before I realized I was shouting. The cigarette slipped from his hand and hit the ashtray. Liam turned, startled.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, crossing the room. “You’re smoking—right next to him?”

Adrian blinked, utterly calm. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t ‘good morning’ me!” I hissed. “Are you out of your mind? He’s a child, Adrian!”

“He’s fine,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair.

“Fine?” I repeated, incredulous. “He’s inhaling smoke from your stupid cigarette!”

Adrian raised a brow, unbothered. “He’s a man, Evelyn. He’ll smoke one day. Better he gets used to it early.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The arrogance in his voice lit something dangerous in me.

“He’s a child!” I shouted. “Not your damn protégé!”

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. He looked from me to Liam, then back again, like we were both inconveniences in his carefully curated morning.

“Liam,” I said, my tone softening, “go to your room, baby.”

“But Mom—”

“Now.”

He hesitated, then nodded and slipped out, the door closing quietly behind him.

The silence that followed was sharp, electric.

I turned back to Adrian, anger surging through me. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes,” he said simply, lighting another cigarette.

I snatched it from his hand and crushed it against the desk. “Then maybe you should listen.”

He stared at me, his jaw tightening slightly. “Are you done?”

“No,” I said, stepping closer. “You think your money gives you the right to do whatever you want, even around a child? You’re supposed to be smarter than this, Adrian. But you act like a—”

“Careful,” he interrupted, his voice dangerously low.

“No,” I fired back. “I’m not going to be careful! Not when you’re this reckless. You treat people like they don’t matter. Like feelings are a weakness. But guess what—this isn’t your boardroom. This is real life.”

His eyes hardened, and for a second, I thought he’d yell. But instead, he smiled—a cold, humorless smile.

“Save your energy,” he said evenly. “We have a meeting at eight.”

I blinked, disbelief flooding through me. “You’re unbelievable. You think I’m going anywhere with you after this?”

He stood, towering over me, every inch the commanding CEO again. “Yes. Because that’s what you agreed to when you signed that contract.”

“I’m not your employee!”

He tilted his head slightly. “No. You’re my wife. At least on paper.”

The way he said it—so detached, so mechanical—made my throat tighten.

“Then maybe you should start acting like one,” I spat.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “And maybe you should remember what this marriage is.”

The words hit like a slap.

I stared at him, trembling. “You’re heartless.”

He exhaled slowly, unfazed. “I’m practical.”

I folded my arms. “I’m not going anywhere with you until you apologize to Liam.”

For the first time, a flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Apologize?”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “He’s a child, Adrian. You scared him. You owe him that much.”

He laughed under his breath—a low, quiet sound that sent chills down my spine. “I don’t do apologies.”

“You should try it sometime,” I shot back.

He looked down at me, eyes glinting. “Get ready by eight.”

I didn’t move. “Say it, Adrian.”

He stepped closer, so close I could smell the faint trace of smoke and cedar on his skin. “Get. Ready. By. Eight.”

The tone left no room for argument. It wasn’t a request—it was a command.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. My heart pounded so loud I could hear it echoing in the silence.

Finally, I turned away. “You’ll regret treating people this way one day.”

His voice followed me, low and cold. “I never regret anything.”

I walked out before I said something I couldn’t take back.

But behind me, I heard the faint click of the lighter again—the sound of him lighting another cigarette.

The same smoke that filled the room seemed to follow me down the hall, wrapping around my chest, heavy and suffocating.

I paused outside Liam’s door. He sat on the bed, hugging his knees, the pen Adrian gave him lying forgotten beside him.

“Mom?” he said quietly.

“Yeah, baby?”

He looked up at me, his voice small. “Did I make him angry?”

My chest ached. “No, sweetheart. He’s just… not used to people caring about him.”

Liam frowned, confused. “That’s sad.”

I smiled faintly, brushing his hair back. “It is.”

As I watched him, a thought whispered in the back of my mind — maybe one day, Adrian would care. But until then, I’d have to protect Liam from him… even if it meant standing between them like a shield.

From down the hall, Adrian’s voice echoed faintly:

“Don’t be late.”

I wondered if I had just signed up to live in a war zone — one built not on guns or violence, but on pride, power, and the kind of emotion that could burn you alive.