The Rebeiro garden was a sanctuary lined with trimmed hedges, fountains glistening under moonlight, and lanterns swaying with the breeze. Away from the crowd, the night sky stretched freely, and for the first time that evening, Caliste allowed herself to breathe.
She found a wooden bench beneath a flowering acacia tree and sank down, resting her tired legs. She tilted her head up, admiring the crescent moon framed by scattered clouds. It had been years since she allowed herself the luxury of quiet, years since she felt unobserved.
But fate never allowed her peace for long.
A sudden thud against her back startled her.
Caliste blinked, turning her head swiftly. There stood a child no older than three or four dressed impeccably in a white shirt under a tailored brown vest, matching trousers, and polished shoes. His cheeks flushed from running, his dark curls slightly messy from the wind.
Caliste's lips parted. Such a handsome boy.
He looked at her with wide, luminous eyes that carried both innocence and maturity, as though he belonged to a world of privileges yet untouched by cruelty.
Caliste smiled, "Why are you roaming outside at this hour, little one? It's dangerous, insects might bite you." Her tone was gentle, instinctively maternal despite everything she had promised herself not to be.
The boy tilted his head, observing her with quiet curiosity. Then, with surprising boldness, he reached out his small hand and brushed hers. His touch was warm, tender—an innocent gesture that made Caliste's heart constrict in her chest.
She brushed her fingers through his curls softly, almost without thinking. "You should go inside, darling. Someone must be looking for you."
The boy smiled faintly, as though comforted by her presence, and nodded.
Just then, hurried footsteps rustled from the bushes.
"Sir Lucca!"
A woman dressed in a maid's uniform, clearly a nanny, emerged panting, her face pale with worry. She rushed toward them, bowing slightly when she saw Caliste.
"I deeply apologize, Miss, if the young master disturbed you. He tends to wander off when he grows restless." She bent lower, reaching for the boy's hand. "Sir Lucca, your father is already looking for you. We need to leave now."
Caliste straightened, blinking at the name. Lucca.
The boy Lucca looked up at the nanny, then back at Caliste, reluctant. But after a small tug, he complied, slipping his tiny hand into the nanny's grip.
Before following, the woman bowed again. "We are truly sorry, Miss."
Caliste waved her hand, smiling politely to mask her curiosity. "It's fine. He's a sweet boy."
With that, the nanny and the boy walked toward the estate's entrance driveway.
Yet Caliste couldn't stop staring at the child's retreating back. Something in her chest tightened painfully, a strange pull she couldn't explain. It wasn't just his boldness or the way he touched her hand it was something deeper, something that unsettled her.
Who does this child belong to?
Her steps moved before she realized it. Curiosity overcame her restraint. Keeping a careful distance, she followed the nanny and the boy through the lantern-lit garden path.
And then..
She froze.
Her blood turned cold.
Standing at the driveway, framed by the headlights of a waiting luxury car, was a man she once knew better than herself.
Lucian Velmore.
Tall. Imposing. His presence was as commanding as it had been years ago, his broad shoulders cutting a sharp silhouette against the night. He wore a black tailored suit that whispered of power and wealth, his expression unreadable yet dangerous in its stillness.
And the boy Lucca ran into his arms.
Caliste's knees nearly buckled. Her hand flew to her mouth as if to stop the scream building inside.
The boy Lucian's son.
Her heart thundered.
Every breath felt like broken glass inside her lungs.
Lucian crouched slightly to catch the boy, his usually cold face softening just enough for Caliste to notice. His hand brushed through the child's curls, his other hand steadying the boy against him. For the briefest second, Caliste saw something she thought she'd never see again Lucian Velmore, the man who once wanted to be a father.
Her body trembled.
Could it be…?
Her chest constricted violently as she stared at Lucca's features. The delicate shape of his nose, the sharpness in his gaze even at such a young age, the subtle resemblance that her heart screamed she recognized.
"Sir," the nanny's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, bowing as she reached Lucian. "Forgive me. He wandered off to the garden, but he is unharmed."
Lucian's dark gaze flicked toward her, stern yet controlled. "Be more careful next time."
The nanny nodded profusely.
But then his gaze shifted.
And met Caliste's.
For a split second, the world stopped.
Her lungs refused to breathe, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. His eyes, dark and sharp as ever, pinned her in place from across the distance. The air between them thickened like smoke, suffocating her with unspoken memories.
Caliste wanted to turn away. To flee. To erase this moment.
But she couldn't.
Her body betrayed her. She stood frozen, like prey caught under the predator's gaze.
Lucian's expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with something she couldn't name anger, disbelief, suspicion, or perhaps all of them tangled together.
The boy tugged at his father's sleeve, murmuring something, and Lucian finally tore his gaze from her, lifting the child into his arms.
That small movement cut deeper into Caliste than any words ever could.
A voice interrupted her daze. "Miss Caliste!"
Her secretary appeared from behind, touching her arm gently. "Madame Rebeiro is looking for you. She says the guests are waiting for your presence inside."
Caliste blinked, as though waking from a nightmare, and quickly turned away from the driveway. Her legs wobbled as she forced herself to walk back inside, every step heavier than the last.
She didn't dare look back.
Aftermath in Her Mind.
Inside the ballroom, the music played, laughter echoed, and wine glasses clinked, but Caliste felt none of it.
Her body was present, her lips curved into polite smiles, but her mind her soul remained trapped in that moment in the garden.
The boy.
His smile. His eyes. His features.
Lucca.
The name replayed in her mind like a cruel melody.
her throat tightened at the thought he was her child?
The one she never saw.
The one she gave up.
The one Lucian took away.
Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back fiercely. Not here. Not in front of them.
As the night stretched on, Caliste hid her trembling hands beneath the tablecloth. The conversations blurred into white noise, her breaths shallow and uneven.
Because no matter how hard she tried, her heart whispered the truth.
That boy. That beautiful child.
He was hers.
And Lucian Velmore had raised him without her.