“Okay,” I murmured, forcing a fragile smile. “For you, Adrian.”
Sebastian’s relief was immediate, slick and oily. “Perfect. How about we go out? Family day. Amusement park! Fresh air, rides, cotton candy—it’ll be fun!”
“If it makes Adrian happy,” I said, though the edges of my patience were fraying.
The problem, of course, was Livia.
She had called earlier that morning, offering to join. “Oh, I’d love to see them,” she’d said, all sugary sweetness. “It’ll be fun to treat Adrian.” Innocent enough in tone, but I knew better.
I had said nothing. Sometimes silence is all you can give.
We arrived, and for a while, the day held small joys: Adrian’s eyes lighting up at the carousel, the way he insisted on riding the tiny trains with me, the sticky traces of cotton candy smeared across his cheeks.
For him, the world was still full of bright possibilities. Watching him laugh felt like a fleeting theft from the nightmare I’d been living.
Livia hovered nearby, practiced and maternal. She took pictures, bought him one toy soldier and then another, and Adrian responded with that unfiltered warmth children reserve for anyone who gives them treats and attention.
“Livia! Look! You’re my favorite!” he shouted, his tone pure and bright.
My stomach twisted. Not just jealousy, but molten anger coiling hot and tight. This woman wore my money around her neck and my husband on her arm, and my son thought she was a safe harbor.
I kept my face neutral, pretending I didn’t understand their silent language, keeping the day from erupting into the confrontation I had been holding in check.
My phone buzzed—it was my butler. I stepped away from the crowd to answer, giving them space.
When I returned, I saw them from across the food court: Sebastian and Livia, two figures laughing too loudly, leaning into each other as though they were old lovers. Livia’s arm looped through his, her posture effortless, as if she belonged there.
“Where’s Adrian?” I demanded.
Sebastian spun, startled. “Isn’t he with you?”
“What? No! He was with you!” My stomach lurched.
He frowned, irritation flaring. “He got tired of the rides. I thought he followed you when you stepped away for that call.”
“I was gone for two minutes!” I snapped. “Do you honestly think a five-year-old could navigate this crowd alone? You were supposed to watch him!”