The whispers rippled across campus like wildfire.
"Is that a Bentley?"
"No way—look at those heels."
"Wait... isn't that Adrien Carter's mom?"
Adrien didn't need to look. He knew.
The soft purr of the engine. The door opening with chauffeur precision. The kind of silence that screamed money, power, and a warning not to underestimate the woman stepping out.
Ava Carter emerged in a fitted black suit, ruby-red heels, a handbag that probably cost someone's tuition, and sunglasses that shielded eyes capable of slicing through boardrooms. She looked like she belonged on a magazine cover—not outside a college dorm.
And yet, the second she saw him—
"Baby!" she cried out, voice high with excitement.
The poise shattered.
In two seconds flat, she was running across campus like no one was watching. Tailored blazer flaring behind her, heels pounding like a battle cry, arms already open.
Adrien barely had time to react before she crashed into him, arms around his neck, kissing both his cheeks, then his forehead, then his jaw like he was five again and had just scraped his knee.
"I missed you so much, my boy! My heart! You look thinner—are you even eating?! Why are you so tall now? You left a boy and came back a basketball player! Look at your face—have you been sleeping enough? You forgot your moisturizer, didn't you? Did you forget me?!"
She was kissing him between every sentence, cupping his face like he might disappear, smoothing down his hair even as he ducked, mortified.
"M-Mom!" Adrien hissed, but he was laughing through gritted teeth, cheeks blazing red. "People are staring!"
"Let them!" she declared proudly, cradling his face. "I carried you for nine months. I have the right to embarrass you."
She sniffled. He noticed.
"Did you cry?" he asked softly.
"I sobbed into your pillow last night," she muttered. "And your baby blanket."
"Oh my God—"
"I love you, Adrien Carter. You're my whole world. I don't care if you're the IT boy of the entire university. You'll always be my clingy little koala who wouldn't let go of my leg in kindergarten."
He groaned and hugged her tight anyway. He couldn't help it.
Because underneath the suits and stilettos, she was still Mom.
His empire in lipstick.
His shield, his warmth.
His Ava.
---
Alex stood by the parked car, one hand tucked into his coat pocket, the other resting on the hood as he watched the chaos unfold.
Ava was glowing—sunlight catching in the gold of her earrings, heels clicking like thunder, arms thrown around Adrien like she'd waited a lifetime for this moment. Her lipstick smudged slightly from all the kisses, her sleek bun coming undone as she fussed over their son.
Their son.
Alex's throat tightened.
Not because he didn't belong in the picture—but because once upon a time, he'd shattered it.
And now here she was, the woman he'd once broken, rebuilding everything he destroyed with elegance that felt almost godlike. And Adrien… laughing despite himself, cheeks flushed, still the boy he swore he'd protect before he even knew what love or fatherhood meant.
Alex didn't move. Didn't interrupt.
He didn't belong in the moment. Not yet.
He was just a witness to it.
To her strength.
To Adrien's light.
To the kind of love he once drowned in—and now watched from the shoreline.
But even from here, watching her laugh and cry and smother their son in affection, something inside him ached with the desperate hope that maybe—someday—he wouldn't have to love them from a distance.
That maybe there was still room in the empire.
If not as king… then as someone who finally learned how to kneel.
---
Ava didn't care that they were in the middle of Adrien's college campus.
She didn't care about the dozen students filing past, openly gawking at the tall, handsome boy being smothered by a woman in heels and diamonds.
The moment she saw him, she launched forward with a breathless, "My baby!" and practically leapt into his arms.
Adrien barely caught her in time.
"Mum—!"
She was already kissing his cheeks, patting his chest, brushing imaginary dust off his collar, eyes scanning him top to toe like she was checking for injuries.
"You've gotten taller again! Have you been sleeping enough? Your skin looks dry—are you drinking water? Do you even own moisturizer? Adrien Carter, if you're living on ramen and caffeine, I swear I'll—"
"Mum," he wheezed, trying not to laugh. "You're suffocating me."
"Good. You deserve to be suffocated in love," she said, clutching him tighter.
A group of students nearby slowed down, watching with open smiles.
"Is that his mom?"
"She's stunning—look at her."
"They're so cute. That's the CEO, right? I saw her in Forbes last month!"
Adrien groaned as she kissed the top of his head. "I swear, you're going to start trending again."
"I better trend," Ava said, unfazed, smoothing his shirt down and clinging to his arm like it was her lifeline. "I birthed you. I survived your toddler tantrums and teenage mood swings. If anyone's allowed to embarrass you, it's me."
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
He gave in, looping an arm around her shoulder, walking her toward his dorm with half a dozen students still stealing glances.
One girl whispered, "He's the IT boy, and his mom is... actually cool."
Another boy chuckled, "Man, I want someone to love me the way she loves him."
Adrien looked down at Ava, who was still tucked into his side, holding on like she'd never let go.
"Don't ever change, Mum."
She smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Only if you promise not to grow up without me."
---
Ava looked entirely out of place in the cramped little dorm room, her silk blouse and Louboutin heels standing out against the bland concrete walls and scattered textbooks.
But she made it home in seconds.
She kicked off her heels with a sigh, pulled Adrien's hoodie off the back of his chair, and threw it over her tailored outfit. It swallowed her frame, but she wore it like armor.
"Where's your kettle?" she asked, already rifling through the cupboards.
Adrien chuckled. "Middle cabinet. Second shelf. I think. Maybe."
She shot him a look. "If I find expired instant noodles in here, I'm dragging you home."
He flopped on the bed, watching her move like she belonged — because, really, she always did. "You already dragged me in public."
"Not enough," she muttered, boiling water, pulling out mugs, and wrinkling her nose at his sad selection of grocery items. "No sugar? Adrien Carter, are you trying to die young?"
"I've been busy."
"You've been neglected," she corrected, grabbing a cloth and wiping down his desk. "This room is a crime scene."
"Okay, Martha Stewart."
"Flattery won't save you."
But her voice was soft, amused, affectionate. She made him tea exactly how he liked it — strong, hot, barely sweet — and handed it to him with both hands, as if offering gold.
Then, she sat on the edge of his bed, eyes scanning his face in that mother way that always made his throat close.
"You're doing okay?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "Yeah. I like it here. It's intense, but... I think I'm thriving."
She beamed and reached to fix his collar again, fingers lingering on his shoulder. "You always do."
"I get it from you."
A pause.
Her hand dropped, but her eyes stayed warm. "You've got your father's eyes," she said, tone unreadable. "But everything good in you? That's all me."
Adrien didn't speak, just leaned forward until his head rested against her shoulder. She hugged him instantly, burying her nose in his hair.
"My baby," she whispered.
"I'm taller than you."
"And I still carried you for nine months and raised you by myself. You're allowed to be taller. I'm still the boss."
He smiled into her shoulder.
They sat in silence for a moment — a mother in her son's hoodie, sipping tea in a tiny dorm, her empire temporarily forgotten for the boy who'd always come first.
"I'm proud of you, Mum," he said softly.
She froze. Then held him tighter.
And for the first time since she'd dropped him off, she cried.
But this time, they were happy tears.